She opened an eye, but her whole world was still one of darkness. She felt something around her face, like a mask. She cooled down with fear as she began to regain consciousness. Ronnie tried to move but couldn’t.
She felt the rope wrapped around her body, shaking it firmly on a narrow sofa. His wrists were fastened, then pulled behind his head, where they were attached to the back of the sofa.
Ronnie realized she was totally naked. His legs were stretched under the couch and tightened to his ankles, the couch forcing his legs. For a brief time, she was terrified by the realization that her sex was open and fully exposed. She screamed, but the mess in her mouth made everything almost impossible.
Then she realized something else. Her vagina was filled with something hard. It was like a big dick sitting there filling her up. Ronnie became aware quite quickly and as she did, the sound of the sweet song suddenly made its entrance into her world. Like he did, the dildo in his vulva started with the rhythmic caricature. The dildo was attached to a device that was mounted on the end of the sofa, a device that pushed the dildo about four inches into and out of its vulva at the rhythm of about two strokes per second.
The dildo was wide in width, a little over an inch and a half, and it stretched Ronnie’s sex with each push, bringing to her senses a strange mixture of pain and excitement.
Then, as her consciousness was restored, the dildo regained her body and she started almost silently moaning her way to an orgasm. She knew it was only the beginning of what she had been promised - and she was not looking forward to seeing what she was expecting. She could face the dildo for now, but knew it would soon be painful because he continued his relentless fucking action in his vulva. Her sex became more sensitive and tender to every attack and, even when her second orgasm was built to her inevitable apogee, Ronnie began to feel the pain that this huge device was causing her.
Like the third orgasm mixed with the pain of the intrusive instrument, Ronnie remembers why she was here and knew she had no choice. She’d have to bear everything that was going to be asked of her.
The letter was sitting on the dining table, and under it was the envelope in which it was displayed. Posted, not hand delivered. Posted. The letter was addressed to Craig Carter and, as usual, he arrived at the station that morning while his wife, Ronnie, was still dressing upstairs.
Normally, the radio was on in the kitchen while Craig was preparing his breakfast, but the kettle had boiled for a long time and turned off and, after opening the post, Craig had waited.
“Breakfast ready, honey?” The female voice called downstairs. Silence, not the usual answer. Then came the steps as Ronnie went down the stairs.
“What’s up?” She asked him to turn his head around the dining room door and notice that the table was naked.
“That’s it,” Craig told her as he held the paper for her.
Ronnie took the sheet and looked at it, becoming pale like her.
“Shit!” She said. “What bastard would send something like that?”
“The bastard you fuck, maybe?” Craig spit the words.
“But I wasn’t, it’s only you,” said Ronnie.
Really. Craig took the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Craig, I thought you’d like to know that your wife is really good in bed. She really is one of the best oral donors I know and I like tattooing inside her left leg - how fun to have a four-leaf clover just below her shaved sex. I’m really jealous that you have at your disposal one of the most eminent clitoris I’ve ever had the pleasure of trapping. And I think your wife is a good fuck. I just want to know how much I enjoyed our time together over the last six weeks. The letter was not signed. Ronnie had become pale. “Then spit out Craig, tell me nothing’s going on.”