You are what you are. That's just the way it is. There's no changing it, there's no fixing it and there's no escape.
We all put on an act for the rest of the world, of course, and that usually gets us by, but the best of times are those when what we are really works, and right now, as I glared down at her and saw the fear in her eyes... I was having a very good time indeed.
It had been easy to get in. Her husband had been all too happy to give up the garage opener.
"He's a fucking idiot and he's kind of got a gambling problem," my buddy Sammy had sarcastically informed me on the phone with giddy delight, "We're into him for a solid hundred G's plus we got him on tape with Gracie. Ernie roughed him up a bit, stripped him down and squeezed his balls, gave him the treatment. Gets em every time. He couldn't give it up fast enough, old lady and all."
There's another immutable fact of nature... There's no accounting for taste. You like what you like and, as always, Sammy had my number.
"She's fucking perfect," he gloated, knowing he was going to soak me for some serious cash, "Just what you always wanted, blond, petite and cute as hell. She used to be a gymnast, championship caliber in fact, till her boobs got too big, and get this... She's a PK married to a preacher. I'd bet a sawbuck she's only had the one stick in her whole life and all he's got is a twig. Doesn't get any better than that."
He was right of course, Sammy always did know his stuff and I was almost salivating just looking at her, but I had a job to do first. I had worn black just because it was more intimidating and I could have brandished a knife, but that would have been cheating, not that I would have minded, but in this case I didn't need to.
All I needed was to be myself, plus I was twice her size. She didn't stand a chance and she knew it, but she gave it a try anyway.
"Who are you!" she barked, halfheartedly, as she turned around from in front of the kitchen sink and saw me standing there.
"Jason Michael Wheeler," I gladly informed her, throwing her off guard and scaring her even more before delivering another little blow, "and you are Molly Blankenship."
"What do you want?" she asked, her head now spinning furiously, trying to figure out what to do.
"You know what I want," I answered, confirming her worst fears with my eyes as much as with my words.
"You'd better get out of here," she tried, for the last time.
"You know that's not going to happen and you need to be careful about your attitude," I informed her menacingly, although inwardly I was having to hide my enjoyment.
Now not knowing what to do, she was like the proverbial deer in the headlights as I walked around the center food preparation table and approached until I towered over her.
Slowly reaching out and taking a fistful of her hair, which she kept in a cute little pixie cut, also much to my liking, I bent her head back slightly, leaned close to her face and gained her final submission.
"Do we understand each other, Molly?"
Nodding her head slightly in assent, I wasn't satisfied and took it a step further.
"Say it!" I whispered.
"Yes, I understand," she answered, looking into my eyes as I held her there for a long moment before letting go.
"Good!" I cheerfully replied, again throwing her off, "Get you purse and your car keys, we're going for a ride."
"In case you're wondering, we're going to my place," I informed her after we were out of the house and on the road with me behind the wheel, "I believe we have until tomorrow evening late before your husband comes home. By the way, this car of yours is a real clunker, you deserve better. We're going to have to do something about that."
Not asking any questions, I could see she was thinking about ways in which she might facilitate an escape or draw someone's attention to her plight, but once again my confident and casual attitude made her think the better of it and we rode the rest of the way in silence, not speaking again until I had taken her into my house and carefully set all the alarms.
"Drink?" I asked casually, leaving her to look around as she pleased while I busied myself at the wet bar.
"I don't drink," she coldly and sarcastically informed me, but gave in when I offered her a soda instead, "You're ever so kind."
Her fear only somewhat subsided, I took a seat in my favorite chair and watched her as she walked about the room looking at the pictures and so forth for a while, knowing she was looking for clues and information and a possible escape route, but I wasn't worried.
I had all the bases covered. She was mine now. Her life as she had known it was over, she just didn't know it yet.
Waiting until she had satisfied her curiosity and finally returned to stand in front of me, I treated her to act two of her personal little drama.
"Alright, let's get to it, take off your clothes," I ordered, already almost beside myself with lust, but, nevertheless, fully in control and determined to extend my enjoyment to the fullest extent and in every detail, "all of them."
Knowing she had no choice and realizing simply by my demeanor that it would be even worse if she protested, she slowly and silently began to comply as my hormones inwardly raged.
Folding her clothes and neatly placing them on the arm of a nearby chair in order to delay as much as possible, she paused slightly as she was finally left with nothing on except her bra and panties, but looking into my eyes and receiving no reprieve, she slowly removed them as well, being very careful to cover herself as best she could all along the way with her hands.
"Put your arms down," I ordered, when she was done, "Let me get a look at you."
Waiting as a long moment passed in which she couldn't quite bring herself to do as I wished, I gave her a little bit of my special brand of encouragement.
"Look, I warned you before about making mistakes. Besides, I told you, come tomorrow night you're going to be safely tucked away in that cozy little home of yours, safe and sound and no worse for wear. Now do it."
Watching her eyes grow moist as she fought the urge to cry, I was enjoying myself immensely as she slowly lowered her arms and afforded me the spectacle of her total nudity, and once again I couldn't believe my good fortune.
I had to hand it to Sammy. She WAS perfect. It was easy to see why she had been good at gymnastics. She wasn't exactly a fireplug, but she was head to toe solid, which, as I said before, was much to my taste, and the rest of the package had me practically salivating as well.
Jutting out proudly from her chest, her boobs were of the classic teardrop shape and were adorned by the most perfectly round and perfectly centered areola's I had ever seen and her nipples were thick and long and pointed straight out.
Her beaver was thick and hid her pussy, but it didn't matter, I would take care of that immediately.
"The bathroom is down the hall, you'll find what you need to shave your pussy and don't dally, if I have to come get you, you'll be sorry.
Mixing myself a drink at the wet bar and feeding my lust with a couple of good shots of whiskey, I was pleased to learn she had heeded my warning and had accomplished her task forthwith, but I was more than amazed when she once again stood naked before me.
Without a doubt she had the biggest pussy I had ever seen, but also the most beautiful, again depending on what you like.
Her outer labia were at least three sizes too big for her and completely obscured her clit and inner lips, extending well out and well down between her legs, leaving only the crack between them which formed the cutest dimple where it met her robust and well defined pubis.
"Turn around, let me look at you," I ordered, forcing her to do so several times, first to simply enjoy her horror at having to exhibit herself , but even more than that, I wanted some time to simply marvel at her last, but not least important feature.
Not only did she have beautiful tits and more pussy than you could cover with your hand, without a doubt she had the perkiest most well rounded ass that the human genome is capable of producing... and I couldn't wait any longer to put a paddle to it.
"Come on," I ordered, rising from my chair and putting one hand on her shoulder.
Escorting her through a nearby door and into another room, she immediately reacted just as I knew she would and flew into a full-fledged panic as she saw the hideous device in front of her.
Having formerly been a weight lifting machine, I had carefully modified it to fit my needs and now, to my delight and Molly's great dread, it was going to serve a quite different purpose.
Consisting of three simple horizontal bars, one for her ankles and one for her waist, there was also a third horizontal bar higher up and slightly forward for her wrists.
Both the ankle and waist bars were well padded while the high bar was bare, but the already attached leather wrist and ankle cuffs as well as the ping pong paddle hanging by a simple hook from the center of the high bar left no doubt about what was going to happen.
"NO! Please!" she cried desperately after she had figured it out and quickly tried to bolt, forcing me to once again grab her by the hair of her head and propel her briskly up against the waist bar and, in spite of her best efforts, I quickly had both her ankles and wrists securely fastened in place.
Now taking my time as she continued to plead, I carefully went about the most enjoyable business of adjusting her position to my complete satisfaction.
First moving the sliding cuff fasteners outward until both her ankles and wrists were at shoulder width, I then carefully adjusted the positions of all three bars with some hand cranks I had engineered myself, finally positioning her exactly as I wanted.
Stretched tight with her feet well off the floor and her body bent only slightly over at the waist, she was hanging by her wrists, with the waist bar only serving to push her bottom out a ways... all the better to serve my purpose.
"No! No! No! Please!!" she continued to plead, much to my delight, as I finally removed the ping pong paddle from the high bar and prepared to use it, "No! Please! I'll do whatever you want! Please!"
Paying no attention to her cries for mercy, I took another long moment to admire the magnificent view of her pussy looming large between her legs before setting a small egg timer I had bought especially for the occasion to five minutes and went to work.
Administering only to her right buttock and with only enough force to sting, I adopted my favorite method of moderately paced strokes in perfect rhythm. I wanted her to know exactly when the next blow was coming and not be able to do anything about it, thereby greatly increasing her sense of helplessness.
