Seeing is believing

As consciousness returned Sam became aware of the ache in his shoulders….and an overwhelming need to piss. “Where am I?” drowsily he asked the darkness.

This question – though revealing much about our hero’s own innocently cliched assumptions – got no reply. So he dozed off again, waking however many hours later feeling no less numb and muddled. The pee problem had solved itself though….

Sam felt the warm sticky dampness stinging his buttocks. He’d wet himself. This was less distressing than it might have been. Sam was still high as a kite. Totally out of it. Whacked. Fucked, in fact.

Half-asleep, he tried to investigate his immediate surroundings. As he was pinned down in complete darkness there wasn’t much he could explore. Just the air: comfortably warm, but smelling unpleasantly of chemicals – floral disinfectant, perhaps. Light: none; and sound likewise. Only his own breathing.

And it was dark. So dark. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had inhabited such blackness. He wasn’t well either. His head hurt, well not exactly hurt but it was all furry inside. He shook it vigorously and then, in a moment of sharp fear, remembered his last waking moments.

He’d felt a similar sensation – his head zapping sideways – when she’d slapped him. She’d slapped him hard, right across the face, the one with the spiky patent leather collar. They were all pretty terrifying but she was the tallest. And the heaviest. Which was saying something. The dog had been a good size, too. Oh, yes, the dog…

It was fear of their unmuzzled pit bull that had stopped Sam running in the first place. As they’d stalked across the street towards him while he knelt shell-shocked on the sidewalk he’d known they meant no good.

And he would have turned tail – after all, even a pudgy middle-aged man can outrun three tightly corseted women wearing five-inch heels. Even if they would’ve each reached about 6 foot barefoot… But the dog wasn’t wearing heels….

So he’d scrambled to his feet and stood his ground, an ingratiating smile on his face. They’d walked right up to him – just that bit too close for comfort – and then, as he’d rummaged around his reeling brain for some conversational opening, he’d felt warmth on his shin. A glance down gave shocking information. The goddamn dog was pissing on his leg.

Looking up accusingly he’d met the glittering purple irises of the tallest amazon. She was a *lot* more pissed than he was at that moment. Sam didn’t think he’d ever been as angry as she looked.

“Fuckin’ spammer!” she’d cried and slapped him like a gunshot. No one had hit Sam since 10th grade. Not many people had even sworn at him. He was just blinking in shock when, in a moment from a nightmare, she’d stabbed him.

At least he’d believed that with his dying breath. But it was becoming clear to Sam that the second terrifying blow had been no more than a vicious spike with a hypodermic. And he hadn’t taken his dying breath yet either. But he *was* strapped to something. It felt like a dentist’s chair. Not uncomfortable, perhaps, if only his arms hadn’t been quite so strained by their bonds.

Sam was captive. And drugged. And, he finally realized, naked. But before he could panic, the light went on. Not much light, but he could see where he was. And who was there. No one. No one at all…. Not that he could see, at least.

The room looked like a movie theater. It was small, no bigger than his own living room at home, and there were no other seats. So not much like a movie theater. But the smell was right, there were no windows, a huge screen dominated the room and his own chair faced it. Sam was pathetically pleased to see that he had been right. It was a dentist’s chair.

Then he thought of what that might mean, and all smugness drained coldly away. He’d seen Marathon Man, although his own dentist, a chubby millionaire, treated him like a favorite relative. Should do too, reflected Sam. The orthodontic work for the kids alone must’ve paid for…

Distracted by this train of thought, Sam jolted himself back to the present with an effort. The drug, whatever it was, seemed to have sapped his will. Surely he should be terrified, furious, desperate to escape? Bruce Willis would be doing something by now. But Sam knew he felt none of this, just a fuzzy apprehension that something not very nice seemed likely to happen soon.

The lights started to dim a little and he felt himself start to slip sideways into dreams again. But then the movie started.

It was his own kitchen – and part of the sitting room. They were sort of open plan. It was morning – broad daylight – and there was Mary-Beth coming in from the garden with a basket heaped with raspberries. Why was she naked? Sam felt his penis stir. With her lavish curves and milky skin she was still quite a fox, that wife of his.

“She is, isn’t she?” came a silky voice from behind him.”Nice Ass!! They are not the same old recycled pics your used to seeing on those other bogus teen sites! Still, they’re all the same aren’t they, underneath – whores, lesbians and other respectable women?”

Christ Jesus! With shocking blasphemy Sam, a devout man, came crashing into consciousness – and total recall. It was about spam. It was *all* about spam. OK, his job was mass mailing on behalf of adult sites. He knew it wasn’t popular. It was legal, though, wasn’t it? But suddenly, for whatever crazy reason, it seemed to have escaped into his contented domesticity.

He recalled the nude cheerleaders on the train, the gloating lechery of the guard as he spurted his jism over their vacant glossy faces. Actually that was quite a cool memory.

But hot on its heels came darker pictures. His younger daughter, Joni, flushed and squealing under the pumping butt of her grandfather. The grunts of the old man as he finished off – and the cheerful acceptance of the hideous scene by Joni’s brother and mother. And here she was again. His wife, Mary-Beth. Mother of his children, college sweetheart, anchor – Mary-Beth!

This film must’ve been shot this morning – or yesterday morning – Sam had lost track of time. But definitely before he came back from work and found the nightmare that awaited him. He remembered the berry juice stains on Mary-Beth when she met him at the station. Yes. This must be a movie about what happened before he arrived…

Humming to herself, Mary-Beth was running the hot tap in the kitchen. As the sink was filling she walked over to the refrigerator. Collecting an armful of vegetables she walked back and dumped them without ceremony into the hot water. She stretched to the rack, took down a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil and up-ended it in the water. “Soup,” thought Sam, vaguely.

Standing in front of the sink, Mary-Beth, businesslike until now, slid her hand down until her fingers were buried in her pussy hair. It was quite clear what she was doing. The rhythmic purpose and the flush that spread on her face were both exciting to Sam, and oddly horrifying. It wasn’t the masturbation that worried him – Sam was no prude in the marriage bed – it was the context. Why was she doing that? What was she going to do next?

Then a half-naked man appeared on-screen and, striding over behind Mary-Beth, slid his huge hands possessively up from her waist to cover her breasts. It was Jim, his golf partner. It was Jim – his investment advisor. It was good old Jim and he was totally at home in Sam’s kitchen wearing nothing but his shorts. It was good old Jim and he was relishing the luxurious volume and weight of Sam’s wife’s breasts.

And Mary-Beth wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t at all surprised… She wasn’t surprised at all… The horror of what this told him flooded Sam. He couldn’t bear to watch but could not bring himself to look away. All awareness of his bondage had left him. Sam’s heart was up on the screen.

With one hand still juggling her monga DDs, Jim’s other slid down to take over the frigging Mary-Beth had been giving herself. “You get our little friends ready,” he said in teasing voice. “I’ll get you ready to use them…”

Mary-Beth’s arms were elbow deep in warm oily water. She was washing vegetables. Sam was confused. This was meaningless…

And what about Jim? He was a married man. His heart breaking over Mary-Beth, Sam had a thought to spare for what Jim’s Debbie would feel when she found out. How many times had the four of them had dinner… gone bowling together….?

A dreadful sense of deja vu overtook Sam as, slender, tanned and naked, Debbie sauntered through the archway into the kitchen. “Need any help in here?” she asked huskily, and started to laugh. She seemed sorta drunk or something, Sam registered…. Not herself, in any event.

She peeked over shoulders of the pair by the sink and giggled inanely. “Looks like we’re cooking.”

Some sort of weird game. Some innocent explanation. Skin cancer – sunburn remedies. Desperate thoughts scooted through Sam’s souffled brain. Alternative medicine, perhaps? But if so why hadn’t they mentioned it?

Debbie was leaning over the basket on the kitchen table. Sam was distracted by the sight of her shaven pussy. He’d never have guessed, not in a million years. And pierced nipples. A sudden feeling of earthquake rippled beneath Sam. He shifted in his chair – its surface – whether leather or vinyl – was sticking to his naked back and buttocks. Sam knew a moment of embarrassment when he thought of the noise he was certain to make when he was peeled away from it.

If the man Sam trusted to invest his hard-earned dollars was capable of feeling up Mary-Beth in plain view of his own wife. And if that same wife, English teacher and ex-Girl Scout leader, was walking around with shaved pussy and piercings under her seersucker, then what was the world coming to?”

“Spam, Sam, spam… Spam… Sam.. that’s what the world’s coming to….” the murmur almost went unnoticed as the action on screen kept Sam in a fever of fear and horror. Sam was even oblivious of his own rock-hard erection. His unseen captors were not.

Debbie was absent-mindedly pulling her long dark nipples. She gave little tugs to the rings which pierced them. She was very rough, observed Sam.

Then, grinning to herself, she impulsively scooped up a double-handful of berries from the basket and mashed the fruit deep into her cunt. The juice trickled down her thighs, and fragments of fruit fell to the floor. She padded through to the living room. “Mind the carpet!” screamed Sam’s mind’s eye.

The camera followed Debbie into the family room. She threw herself onto Sam and Mary-Beth’s new cream couch and laid down, thighs splayed. Was this a hidden camera or did she know she was being watched? It was very well filmed. The close-up was almost too good, especially if you were the guy still paying for the couch….

Debbie’s unmanicured, sensible, teacher’s fingers were busily working her bald juice-covered mound. She was a slick masturbator; within seconds Sam could see the clear cunt juice adding its glisten to the red pulp and seeds that coated her pussy, thighs – and much of the cushion…. Her sticky fingers drew out those long finger-like nipples. The little glans of her hard clit poked through the puffy juice-stained lips of her naked sex.

Sam was fascinated to see the half dozen little golden hoops that pierced her labia on either side. If you had a piece of ribbon, he thought, you could lace her up like a hiking boot.

“I’m soooo hot, can’t wait!” she cooed. “Hope you’re feeling hungry, Mary-Beth!”

“Fuckin’ am,” answered Mary-Beth coarsely. “!Cat.girl@wants.to.eat.you! Prepare yourself for the ultimate hardcore cybersex experience of your life!”

What had happened to his life? Sam could understand nothing. His wife didn’t use bad language. Never had, never would. And as for the rest of it…. Sam’s mind groped…

She came through from the kitchen and joined Debbie on the couch. With Debbie lying back, knees gaping, there wasn’t much room, but this was surely no justification for Mary-Beth to kneel between the other woman’s thighs and lick the clotted fruit off her cunt.

Sam watched in revulsion as, having licked all the pulp and juice off the shaven slit, his wife pulled their mutual friend’s pierced labia apart with greedy expertise and sucked the whole of Debbie’s big hard clit into her mouth.

The suction and savagery must’ve been exquisitely painful. Whoever was in charge of camera angles made sure Sam saw the sharp teeth as Mary-Beth’s predatory mouth engulfed the vulnerable aroused flesh and the mixture of agony and submission that filled her victim’s face.

“They’re hot and greasy, honey. Hope you are too.” Jim was standing at the kitchen doorway, his hands filled with vegetables, an impressive prominence tenting his shorts.

In one hand he held a cucumber you could use for a baseball bat. In the other a plastic bowl containing a selection of bloated zucchini, a string of garlic and some tomatoes.

“Where’s the oregano?” teased the silky voice behind him, but Sam wasn’t too far gone to fall for that one. He knew this wasn’t Home Ec.

Suddenly Debbie looked directly at the camera. With her face filling the screen she gave that patient, tender smile that so reassured the smaller children and said “Please watch me as I spread my pussy and masterbate. More is better and I love to see how much my pussy and ass can hold. My own FREE homepage devoted to FISTING AND FOREIGN OBJECT FETISH. Stop by for free pics of me and my friends stuffing and getting stuffed, beggin for more!”

“No… no… “quavered Sam. “Oh yes,” said the voice. “Loosen your collar, and unbuckle your belt because it’s time for a soothing break from the awful political correctness and constriction of the world! Soak up the wholesome goodness of beautiful naked women.”

“That wasn’t one of mine!” Sam appealed. The irrelevance of loosened collars and unbuckled belts to a man who was strapped naked to a dentist’s chair crossed his mind, but he decided it might be safer not to comment.

“No, that header wasn’t one of yours. But if you were going to be taunted would you rather I used that one or….”

“I’m stretching this slave’s cunt wide open!” finished his wife.

“…this one,” purred his tormentor. “You did write that one, didn’t you?”

“Oh shit, ” said Sam, and slumped in his bonds.

Jim had Debbie’s fragile arms stretched over the back of the sofa, gripping both wrists easily in one massive hairy hand while with the other he slowly pulled on his wife’s nipple rings. Her small breasts were stretched outwards, her eyes were screwed up and she was moaning. Sam would’ve believed she was in agony if she’d been struggling. Even a little bit….

But no, she was helping her tormentors, easing her ass forward on the couch and tilting her pelvis to allow Mary-Beth better access to her swollen sex. Running her pointed pink tongue over her lips, Debbie begged, ” I want to be your girl, your babe and slut… Fuck me like the slut I am”

“You will submit…slave!!!” Mary Beth answered from between Debbie’s knees, a demonic expression contorting her motherly face. In this new and revolting incarnation she reminded Sam of some Nazi midwife, an effect increased by the crimson juice that smeared her face and hands.

Apart from gripping the wrists of his squirming wife, Jim was doing nothing but watch in lecherous fascination, though his dick was poking out of his shorts. Sam was dismayed but not surprised to see that Jim was astonishingly well hung.

It was hardly surprising Sam wasn’t surprised. Things were not going his way at all the last day or so and by now Sam would have been more surprised if his best friend’s member had been a moderate and unthreatening organ. So Sam wasn’t at all surprised to see that the man helping Sam’s wife apply vegetable oil and vegetable dildos to his own helpless blonde wife was hung like a horse.

Then, as if to rub it in, the unseen camerawoman (Sam just knew it was a woman) zoomed in to let Sam fully appreciate the girth and hardness of Jim’s massive hard-on. He could see the pre-cum glistening on the shiny, slightly wrinkled glans For the first time in his cosy existence Sam fully appreciated the saying “Life’s a bitch”.

Zoom to another close-up. Without warning his wife gripped the twin rows of tiny golden rings between the tips of her fingers and used them to spread Debbie’s vaginal opening until even Sam could see the dark petaled tunnel – see it as a hole rather than a mystery. The rings were pulling at the flesh. Sam winced at the thought of the damage possible. Debbie, after all, was *not* a hiking boot.

“It’s tight isn’t Debbie?” his wife sneered. “Tight like your pathetic little asshole, bitch! Well, we’re gonna stretch that cunt until it’s the size it should’ve been if you were a real woman!”

“No!” Sam gasped. Debbie and Jim’s childlessness, the punishing anguish of clinics and tests, was a topic both he and Mary-Beth touched on only with the most delicate of concern. Many a time he’d looked at his own bright-eyed trio and mourned for the kids his friends couldn’t have. And now Mary-Beth was using this pain in some perverted game.

“This is horrible,” Sam protested.

“Of course it is, sweety. But it’s what the suckers want, isn’t it? Why, as you said yourself, come by for a few free pics of the most outrageously vile lesbian action ever!!” The voice sniggered loathsomely.

“But I didn’t mean this sort of outrageously vile!” Sam protested.

“Oh, I see. Then exactly what sort of vile did you have in mind?” The voice, gentle but bitter, ran its nails down Sam’s soul, so long asleep.

On screen, although tears dripped from Debbie’s half-closed eyes, she was panting in excitement as Mary-Beth took the monster cucumber in one hand and greased Debbie’s small pink slit with the other. She appeared to be using some lite butter-substitute. In another life, Sam remembered his wife encouraging him to switch to this brand to protect his heart. He wished now he’d known where else it had been…..

The huge glossy green nub was targeted at Debbie’s hole and, looking up to meet Jim’s fascinated eyes and lecherous grin, Mary-Beth started slowly forcing the hot cucumber into the small, glistening aperture. Despite himself, Sam was aroused by the way Debbie’s puffy cunt lips were pulled and fattened by the grotesque penetration.

Inch by inch, and with an intent vulpine expression, Mary-Beth was forcing nine, ten, 11 inches up Debbie’s obscenely stretched sex. He could see the muscles jerking in her flat muscular belly. There was a quite a bit to go… Mary-Beth jabbed it in suddenly another couple of inches. Debbie’s eyes shot open and she gave a yelp of pain. “No!” she shrieked.

“Yes, you little wimp. What was it you said? Oh yes. ‘I love my tits and pussy tied and tortured!’ Well now you’re getting it. Plus a little surprise AnalAction” She rammed the last few inches into her squirming victim and reached out a hand to Jim without looking, like a surgeon. He had the zucchini ready for her. Mary-Beth straightened up.

Grinning, Jim, still gripping his wife’s wrists like a rapist, flipped her over. It was clear why Mary-Beth had got out of the way. Debbie’s slim legs and narrow butt flew past her as the lighter woman was flung down on the sofa again, this time face down. The cucumber was still in place, but Mary-Beth gave it a few vicious jabs as she knelt on the fragile body of the tortured sex-slave. Debbie yipped and her husband, no longer needing to hold her, stood up and started to milk his huge black cock. Sam did a double-take.

“Inter-racial’s very popular isn’t it, Sam?” asked the voice. “I mean we know Jim’s Irish by descent, but we thought we’d mix and match a little. Just to make it exciting…”

Baffled, Sam ignored her. He was riveted to the action on-screen. It was so hot and yet so bitterly, bitterly cold. Not a scrap of tenderness – or even passion – in that bleak, mechanical tripling…..

Yanking Debbie’s golden thighs and pale buttocks apart, Mary-Beth spat in a workmanlike way on her exposed pink asshole. Although it was clear, from the clenching and jerking of her muscles, that Debbie was trying to evade this final intrusion, Mary-Beth was already forcing the arch of the fat zucchini deep into her bowels. Between Debbie’s sobs and Jim’s panting the air was filled with urgent sounds and, as her husband moved in beside Mary-Beth, Sam assumed he planned to jerk off over his wife’s tear-blotched face.

But no. He was crouching behind Mary-Beth, with something else entirely on his mind. Mary-Beth, now transformed into one of those hardcore, beautiful, violent bitches that were the staple product of Sam’s working life, was too engrossed in jabbing the two vegetables brutally in and out of their victim’s holes to notice Jim’s stealthy, gloating approach to her own exposed and gaping twat.

“It’s *******OLD, WRINKLED PUSSIES REVEALED******* all over again, eh, Sam? Of course, all three of these losers are far too old for real spam-fodder. Not exactly HS Virgins Nude, eh, sugar? Besides which, the skinny one’s got tanlines.”

God, how he hated that voice. Perhaps Mary-Beth’s familiar pussy was time-worn – but time-honored in his eyes too. How dare this invisible bitch insult her? He even resented the slur on Jim and Debbie. Sam’s cornered mind clutched at straws….

But his attention was recaptured as the screen shifted to a close-up of Mary-Beth’s face. Her eyes were widening. She looked stunned.”No!” she yelled. Then, as her voice rose to a screech: “No you BASTARD! No!!! Not me, you mother-fucker. Not me!! Debbie!!”

Switching to another close-up, Sam could see what Jim was doing. Slowly and with determination, Jim was forcing his massive fist into Mary-Beth’s child-bearing pussy. It seemed impossible.

Jim decided so apparently, because after what seemed an age he pulled it back in defeat. Mary-Beth let out a thankful sigh.

But she couldn’t see what Sam could. Jim had picked up the tub of lite spread and was thoroughly lubricating not only his fingers but between his fingers, the back of his hand, his wrist and some of his forearm. He had laid the gnarled shape of a gourmet string of garlic within easy reach as well.

Sam had never been an imaginative man but he winced. His face scrunched in horrified anticipation as Jim slickly pushed four well-oiled fingers between Mary-Beth’s labia. Engrossed in her torment of the other woman, she hardly noticed this until he followed through with an almighty thrust which shoved half his forearm up her fertile cleft.

The spitted woman jerked in agony, but was too late. Her heavy white tits bounced provocatively but that was all. Once Jim’s fist was buried right up her cunt, Mary-Beth dared not move an inch.

“JEEEEEEZZZZZUZZZZZZ!!!!!!” The agonizing sound of his impaled wife’s shrieks filled the room.

“Gosh, that must hurt, poor baby! Even after three kids that’s way too big for you, honey!” he thought aloud.

“Yes, it is,” responded the voice. “Funny how watching her get it made you cum.”

And he had. So involved in the action he hadn’t even been conscious of it, Sam had just shot his load all over his naked belly. His dick, still pumping, was twitching with lust.

“See to him, Agent Kim,” the voice barked, and a slender hand equipped with medicated wipes appeared, apparently from beneath the chair. A disembodied naked arm slipped between his legs to clean the ejaculate off his skin. There were a few spatters on the seat and his unseen housekeeper attended to these also with economical movements.

“So, Sam…” triumphed his tormentor. “Things that you want to see but were afraid to ask to see, eh? And Joni hasn’t even arrived home from school yet… Remember that bit, eh?”

Sam felt like a child with a wet bed. He’d lost control of his reactions. His body had ignored his values. He felt like he’d watched a murder. He felt as if he’d committed some sort of murder.

Humiliation ran up him like a forest fire, leaping from cock to gut to heart to bursting head. It was Sam’s day for bodily secretions. First piss, then semen, now tears. They fell helplessly down his face as his heart broke with betrayal and sheer misery. “It’s so ugly,” he begged no one. “Why’s it so ugly?”

“Where’s the love? What happened to Mary-Beth? What happened to Jim and Debbie? Weren’t we friends? And what in heaven’s name has happened to my life?” A torrent of questions expressed his disbelief.

“Love? Friendship? Family? Who needs RL sexual fulfillment and domestic contentment when you and your colleagues can make a buck selling sTrAnGe sExUaL eNcOuNtErS? You want ’em. You got ’em…” The voice starting laughing, a revolting low sexy but sluttish growl which broke into a smoker’s cough. Then the lights went out again….