Karen

"Don't fight me. I'll leave you and George homeless and penniless unless you do exactly as I want. Karen, I want you on your knees. I want your obedience. I want your surrender."

"George would rather lose everything then have me give myself to you," I said weakly. George's words rang in my ears. 'Give Eric whatever he wants,' he'd said. Did George know that meant me? Was he trading me for his financial future? No. He couldn't mean that. Could he see I wanted Eric? Was he giving me permission to have an affair? Why had he told me to dress in something nicer? Did he know?

I wanted five minutes. That's all. Just five minutes alone someplace quiet where I could think. I couldn't think. The world was spinning in wild, erotic gyrations. I wanted it to stop so I could think.

"Undress, Karen. Let me see your body."

I shook my head no. Quickly he stood, towering over me like an implacable giant. My tears started anew. I staggered to my feet and stumbled to the plate glass window overlooking the plant floor. It was a magnificent overview, letting me see the product of so many years of hard work. George and I would have nothing to show for those years if we lost it.

I sagged against the air-conditioning unit that extended from the wall at desk height. I sensed him behind me. I started to turn. He drove his body against mine. The timing and force of his assault drove my legs apart, his knees inside my thighs. His height and strength trapped me with only my toes touching the floor. He crossed my wrists in front of me. The long, powerful fingers of his left hand wrapped around my wrists and forced them downward.

"No! Goddamn you! No!" I screamed.

"Sshh. It's okay, Karen. It's all right for you to surrender to me," he whispered soothingly.

I slammed my head back, hoping to hit him in the face. He trapped my head with his right hand and held it there. Trapped, unable to get leverage with my legs, his strong arms wrapped around me, I screamed and cursed, fought and struggled, using every ounce of energy and power in me. When my struggles slowed, he relaxed his grip, giving me false hope of escape. I struggled harder which exhausted me more quickly.

Like an insect in a spider web, I futilely struggled against an unavoidable fate. Like the insect, I was ultimately exhausted. I collapsed against him, lying still and helpless in his arms.

Somewhere in my bifurcated mind, the woman who was me watched us from above. She saw me in his arms. She felt his strength and my struggles and futility. She felt his cock hardening against my bottom as I rubbed against him. She felt our muscles war. She smelled our sweat, mine made pungent by my fear. She heard our sounds, the gasps and grunting, the words spewed mindlessly by me. She felt the heat.

The woman knew the outcome before it occurred. She relished the delicious male/female battle she observed. She tingled in anticipation of the female's surrender to the male who entrapped her.

His erection laying against the crack of my bottom and his arms around me dominated my thoughts. My bottom moved against the bulge in his trousers. Stop rubbing against him like some wanton hussy, the voice said. I can't, I cried.

I didn't feel him unbutton the two lower buttons of my blouse. I first felt his fingers on the wet, hot skin of my belly. His fingers moved over my rib cage. I groaned as they unsnapped my front attaching bra. Gently, those fingers wrapped around my breast, squeezing, testing, evaluating, and, yes, tantalizing. Thumb and forefinger closed on my nipple and rolled it back and forth. Desire raced through me.

"Please. For God's sake," I whimpered.

"You've lovely breasts, Karen. I'm going to enjoy them," he whispered in my ear. "I'm going to enjoy all of you. You're a very sexual woman. Why you've repressed it, I'll never know. But you'll repress it no more. You're my woman now and I expect unbridled sexuality from my women."

His woman? How could that be?

His voice was soothing and reassuring. It was warm, the kind of warmth a man's voice has when he has bedded a woman who has pleased him, or when he is pleased with the woman he'll soon bed. I didn't misconstrue warmth as weakness. He intended for me to fully comply with his demands.

"You have a lovely neck, too," he murmured as he nuzzled the side of my neck under my hair.

His lips, his tongue nibbled and caressed my neck. Electricity flickered through me. Chills went down my spine. He pulled my head back and kissed me, nibbling at my lips, tongue caressing mine, his breath hot and sweet in my nose. He kissed me again.

Strange, isn't it? Cursing and weeping, I'd struggled until exhaustion. Now I lay passively in his arms as he kissed me and fondled my breasts. I felt secure and warm. I was weightless, his body still supporting mine as my toes brushed the ground. His hardness throbbed against me. Heat was rising again and sweat oozed from me. Heat from a different source; heat of a different kind.

My resistance ceased. Limply my hands lay before me. Eagerly his hands sought the button and zipper at my waist. Resistance flared. I grunted and pushed against him. He jerked me hard against him, knocking the wind from me. His teeth dug into the muscles of my neck, like a stallion holding a mare in place as he mounts her. Something happened: maybe release of hormones from primordial urges. A warm tingling sensation overcame me. I resisted no more.

He slipped my blouse and bra off, lay me back on the soft carpet and finished removing my clothes. I watched as he dropped his trousers and boxers. When I saw his cock, I gasped. It was so red and hard. I wanted it so much. He knelt between my legs. My wrists were crossed and pinned over my head. My legs were doubled and trapped under his arms. His cock nestled between my lower lips. Our eyes were open. His face was a picture of male pride and conquest. I felt every millimeter of his skin as he slowly entered me. I juiced to ease his way. I spasmed around him, expanding for him. He stopped, only partially in me.

I lifted my hips to hurry him. "Please don't stop." I whimpered.

A victor's smile on his face, he slammed against me, driving me into the floor. His cockhead hit my cervix.

"Oh, God. I'm cumming," I murmured.

Large, hard, demanding, his cock plundered me again and again, drawing from me orgasms I didn't believe possible. I, who'd never experienced more than one orgasm, felt the power of multiple ones crashing over me. Sweat covered us. Heat radiated. I whimpered and mewed under him, rewarding his taking of me with my pleasure at having been taken.

"Look at me!" he demanded. Buried in me to the hilt, he stopped. His face contorted. He began to shake as he pumped his seed into me. Ecstacy covered his face as he emptied himself. He released his hold on my legs and slumped on me.

I should've pushed him away. Instead, I put my arms around him and held his hard body tightly against mine. His cock softened in me as our bodies cooled. My hands stroked his back. My lips nuzzled his neck. He raised up to look in my eyes. I saw a gentleness in him. I saw pride: pride of bringing a woman to sexual nirvana; pride of ownership. What did he see in me? Happiness? Satisfaction? Joy? They were there.

"Now Karen, we'll always end the same way. Use your mouth to clean me," he said after he rolled to lay beside me.

I had no urge to resist or disobey. I took him in my mouth, tasting our juices coating him. He stroked my sweat soaked hair as I eagerly complied. His hand was gentle, his touch reassuring.

"Well done," he said softly.

I stopped to gaze into his eyes.

"Take your hand and gather my cum from your pussy. Lick your fingers clean. No, Karen. Always look at me when you do it so I can share your joy at tasting me."

My eyes were locked to his as my fingers sought the nectar he left. The tingling urge to again open myself for him crept over me. As I licked my fingers, I saw his cock jump and swell. He wanted me again. Me! I was thrilled and eager for him.

"I'm sorry to end this," he whispered in my ear, "but we need to go to dinner. Polly's cooking. We're all eating together."

I cringed at the mention of my daughters and husband. Shame filled me. A cold, sick dampness crept across my skin. Even my tears seemed cold on my face. With my back to him, I sought my clothes and quickly redressed. When I turned to face him, he had a soft smile.

"Why are you doing this to me, Eric?" I asked timidly.

"Does it matter? It's happening."

"Please tell me. I need to know."

"You shouldn't feel guilty about this, Karen. You resisted, but I was too strong. I took you. All you need to know is that you're mine now. Mine. And I'll do with you as I wish."

Guilty? My guilt was an albatross around my neck. It devastated me. I was crushed by the weight of it . . . but, oh god, why did I feel this way? Why did I feel warm and happy? Why did I enjoy him so much? He extended his hand to me. He helped me to my feet and pulled me against him.

"You're a good lover, Karen," he said softly. "You'll be better when you surrender. You'll be a sexual animal. My animal." He kissed me. "I'll see you at my house."

He kissed me again and left me in the quiet of my own office.

I thought of nothing else but his taking of me as I drove home to bathe and change. As I drove to his home, I lectured myself. You need to end this affair, I said. You must stop it for Polly's sake, and for George's. I was George's wife. I was Polly's mother. I couldn't be Eric's woman, too. Could I? Could I answer the sexual call my body gave me each moment I was with him?

By the time I parked my car in front of his house, I was eaten by turmoil and indecision.

I fought back tears as I rang the bell. Polly answered and greeted me warmly. Dinner was delicious. My daughters were scintillating. My husband was buoyant from a day's victory at the golf course and the promise of relief in the business. Eric was the perfect host and son-in-law to be.

No one noticed the change in me. What did you expect? the voice said. You're not wearing a scarlet letter. But do they know?

At first, I was very self-conscious. Numbness infused me. With great effort, I successfully compartmentalized the day, letting me enjoy part of the evening with my family.

George's golf tournament continued through Sunday. Eric and I agreed to meet at the plant in the morning to "continue what we started." The others believed what we'd started was his review of our company. Only he and I knew what those words really meant.

He spoke but once of the relationship he insisted we have. We were alone in the kitchen. He cupped my mound through my dress. He squeezed, his finger finding my opening. "Mine," he whispered in my ear. Chills went through me.

Standing there in his kitchen, I bolstered my resolve to fight him. I decided to tell my family his plans, to tell them right now. I couldn't allow further assignations with him. But when I reentered the living room, they were on the floor in an intimate and animated discussion.

"Oh, Eric, will you really pay for my college?" Patty was saying.

"Of course, until your dad gets back on his feet again," Eric replied positively. Patty threw her arms around him and hugged him warmly, her happiness radiating from her face.

"And that'll be real soon, honey," George responded, getting his warm hug from Patty as he did.

I couldn't confront him in front of them. I couldn't crush their hopes and joys even for my own protection. As I looked at Eric with them, he appeared to be happy and a part of the group.

I wondered what in him was driving him to do what he was doing to me. How could he be so sexually tyrannical with me and pleasant with them? Whatever it was, I must deal with it by myself. Deal with it? Relish it. Be honest with yourself, Karen.

That night at home, George quickly succumbed to sleep. My sleep was intermittent. Wild sexual dreams repeatedly awakened me in a hot sweat and with a pounding heart. Once my hand was between my legs when I awakened. I cried myself back to sleep. Each time, a troubled sleep brought dreams again.

When the alarm aroused me, I stumbled into the bathroom dazed from lack of sleep and hurrying not to be late. I don't remember dressing. I was half way to the office before I realized what I wore. Once again, I'd selected one of my all encompassing blouse and skirt combinations. This one was the most revealing I owned. Its materials were silky and clingy and tight around me. And I was braless. I'd never gone braless in my life. The weight and movement of my freed breasts was a constant reminder of the conflict in me.

Twice I pulled off the street to cry. I told myself it's only a lack of sleep. It's guilt. Yesterday won't happen again I said. But I knew it would. He would have me again. Only this time, there'd be no going back. This time I'd belong to Eric Winston.

I called George from my car phone. He was pulling into the parking lot at the golf club. He didn't even notice I was crying as he told me to make sure Eric was impressed. Impressed? Yes, Eric was impressed. By me. By my wanton surrender. By my whimpering as he fucked me. I cried I could cry no more.

I resolved to resist Eric. Why? Who knows? The war in me was titanic. I wouldn't let him take me as he had only yesterday. I must end what he had begun.

When I arrived at the office, Eric was sitting in his car reading the Sunday newspaper. He hopped out and gave me a big smile. When he leaned over to kiss me, I turned away. Both his arms were full so he couldn't grab me and make me kiss him. He lugged a suitcase and a sack of food as he followed me to my office. As I was making coffee for us, I heard the furnace roar to life. Soon, hot air was blowing into the room. I wondered why he'd turned up the heat.

In my office, he'd moved a straight chair to the center of the floor. In front of it was a blue exercise mat big enough to lie down on. The mat extended to the edge of my desk. He was sitting in my chair. His blue eyes locked onto me.

"Coffee's ready," I said, trying to make my voice light and happy. I placed his coffee on the desk in front of him and started to sit down.

"Don't sit, Karen," he said. "Today's devoted to our pleasure. I expect total obedience from you."

"No, Eric. I'm ending it," I said as I sat in the chair in flagrant disobedience to his order.

Don't listen to my words, Eric. Please. Listen to my body language. Take me. How could I think that? How could I not think it? End my turmoil, Eric. End it!

"Don't try to resist, Karen. I took you yesterday. I'll take you again today and every day I desire."

"Eric, I'm to be your mother-in-law. I'm married to another man. This is wrong."

"No. It's right. I won't allow you a way out. If you disobey me, you'll be punished."

He opened the suitcase and removed a flexible leather shaft about three feet long. Blood crashed through my veins. I feared his answer, but I asked.

"What is that?"

"A whip. I'll whip you for your disobedience."

"You wouldn't?" I gasped.

"Yes, I would. I'd do it without hesitation. Would you like a demonstration?"

My head shook "no."

Gracefully and quickly, he moved beside me, taking my hand. He guided me to the mat and instructed me to kneel on it facing the chair. The sweat broke out between my breasts, a droplet running down my belly. For a moment, I considered resisting. His grip tightened on my arm. Trembling and red faced, I knelt on the mat. My eyes teared and overflowed, silent wetness running down my cheek.

"Spread your knees shoulder width," he ordered.

What was I to do? He'd left me no choice. I couldn't risk the loss of everything for an act of disobedience. Now he had added the fear of swift and painful punishment if I resisted but a moment. Slowly, I opened my knees, making me acutely aware of my femaleness. He's making me ready for him, I thought.

Eric handed my coffee to me and sat in the chair I faced. He moved it forward until his knees, which were spread wide, were on either side of my head. Suddenly, my world was the small v-shaped area bound by his legs. Acutely aware his cock at the tip of the V would soon be in me again, I unsuccessfully struggled to look away. I sipped my coffee and waited. Waited for him to take me again.

The office and the coffee were hot. My blood was churning. Perspiration rolled down me in torrents. My blouse was soaked. It was plastered to my over hot and wet skin, making me more visually tantalizing than if I wore nothing. My nipples were erect and easily seen. I didn't pull the blouse from my skin to hide myself from him. My skirt stuck to my legs. I adjusted it, smoothing it over my thighs. After I did, I realized my legs were more visible that way. Why hadn't I thought of that before?

I waited, the minutes numbing my senses, the tension playing with my mind. Finally, he lifted my chin to look in his face. His countenance was hard, his sexual need open and obvious. He sat back. When I looked away, the stiff tip of his whip under my chin brought my eyes to him again.

"We both know you wouldn't hurt your family. I saw that in your face when you left the kitchen last night. Is that correct, Karen?"

"Yes."

"My taking of you is between us. You and me. We both know I'll win. We both know I'll have you as mine."

"You can take me. You can rape me and I won't report it. But I'll never be yours."

I said it with all the strength in me. Was I convincing? Was I believable as I knelt obediently between his legs, my own legs spread in inviting supplication, my body hot with wanting?

"You've already mine, Karen."

Was he right? I thought as he sipped coffee and stared at me with those hypnotic blue eyes. I was on the edge. - the very edge - of that great canyon called surrender. I was at the precipice: herded there as a sheep herded by a sheep dog; trapped there by the box he built around me. The unwalled side was the precipice.

I'd go off the edge. I had no doubt about that. He would accept nothing less. Would I make him push me off that edge? Or would I jump?

All my senses were on full alert. The color of his jeans was vivid and bright. Their tightness around his muscular legs enthralled me. The bulge at the V of his legs was never out of sight or mind. The weight of my breasts was full and heavy. I felt them move enticingly with each breath I took. My spread legs created an emptiness needing to be filled. My cheeks were wet with my tears. I could feel each drop of the sweat slipping down my body. I could smell us, both of us. I could smell my moisture excreted between my legs. When, absentmindedly, I stroked my skirt taut over my thighs, it seemed I could feel the pattern of the cloth.

I waited. The tension increased.

"I'm going to give you a mantra, Karen. When I say 'mantra', you'll repeat it continuously until I say 'stop'. You'll live by this mantra. It'll be the thought which governs you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes, sir, is your proper response," he said.

"Yes, sir," I repeated. If I had any will to resist, my voice didn't reveal it.

"Good. This is your mantra. 'I'm Eric's hot, willing woman."

"I'm not yours. I'm not," I whimpered.

The whip hissed through the air, slamming into the blue mat beside my leg. It sounded like a rifle shot. I screamed in panic, doubling over, holding myself in fear. Eric was a patient man, a patient man with laughter in his eyes he struggled to hide. He'll never use that whip on you, the voice in my head said. I know, I answered, but isn't it erotic to think he might? Eric waited until I composed myself. When I looked up at him, I saw the message in his expression: Surrender. You have no choice.

"Shall we try again? Say your mantra, Karen."