I walked out of the office, dejected. It had only been a bit of personal photocopying in work time, and now I'd lost my job over it. I grabbed the few possessions I cared about from my desk under the watchful eye of the security guard, who then escorted me from the building.
I only lived a few minutes' walk away, and my wife's car wasn't on the drive, so I went straight in, upstairs, and got undressed. The laptop was still in the bedroom from where I had been watching Netflix the night before, and I grabbed it, loaded up a porn site, and prepared for a fury wank. Half way through, the bastard thing overheated and shut down. I swiped it off the bed, and threw myself back against the headboard in the blackest of moods.
After a few minutes sulking, I went to retrieve the laptop, then noticed an unfamiliar book under the bed. I grabbed it, flicked through a few pages, and realised that it was my wife's private journal. I was about to chuck it back where I found it, when I came across a page from a few months back, detailing a sexual fantasy.
"I know we've been married for over a year now, but I'm too embarrassed to ask Alex to do this for me, as I'm the one who usually takes charge. I have a deep yearning to taste a total loss of control. I want him to come in as a stranger, naked but masked, showing off his hard abs but covering his face. I want him to pin me down, restrain me, and take me no matter how many times I ask him to stop. I want so badly to resist him, but for him to force his way past it, make my body react while my mind tries to stop it, and to fill me with his hot spunk."
I was rock hard. I read the entry again, while gently stroking the full length of my erect shaft. This stuff was masturbation gold, and I wanted to make it last.
I was interrupted once again, this time by the sound of the key in the door. I heard Pippa come in. It was only after a minute when I heard her sister reply that I realised that she wasn't on the phone, and had company. My cock twitched, desperate for release. I tried to calm myself, and it relaxed a little, but remained at its fullest size. If it was loss of control she wanted, I could give her that...
I went to the cupboard and looked for a disguise. I found the clean bandages I'd used on a first aid course some time ago, and a half empty box of camo paint from my days in the army cadets. I smeared the green, brown and black all over my torso and the sides of my legs, making sure to cover over any moles and scars that might give me away. I then crept into the bathroom, and wound the gauze around my head, wrapping it completely so I could see through the weave of the material, but I was unidentifiable to anyone else. I quietly took down one of the towel rails. Metal, and reasonably heavy, it would serve as an excellent non-deadly weapon and added to my air of intimidation.
I could hear them in the kitchen, and waited for them to move to the living room, where there were fewer things they could hit me with in the event that my disguise worked as well as I hoped. I snuck downstairs, hovered on the penultimate step - then, deliberately stepped on the creaky stair. There was no turning back now. This was on. I stepped to the door, put the chain on, locked it, and flung the keys into the kitchen where they slid under the fridge. There was no way out without them. As Pippa, my sweet wife Pippa, came to the living room door to see what the noise was, she paled and screamed. Her sister ran to her side, and I held the rail up above my head.
I realised that my voice would give me away, so I gestured stiffly for them to go back into the room. I closed the door, then turned to reach the reel of speaker cable which had been sitting behind it so I could tie them up. As I bent down, erection still gently throbbing, Lisa, the sister, smashed a vase over my head. Fortunately, it was quite a thin piece, and when I glanced at myself in the mirror over the hearth, the blood on my head was soaking into the gauze and adding to my already terrifying visage. I looked at her, put my head on one side, then cracked her across the head with the towel rail, knocking her clean out. I used the wire to tie Pippa's hands together, and then her feet, tore off her top and gagged her with it. I then set to work on her unconscious sister. Nobody tells you how heavy people are when they're out cold. I cleared the coffee table with a swipe of the rail, and struggled to move her, face down, on to the table. I tied a hand or foot to each table leg, then gagged her too.
In shifting Lisa's comatose form, my cock had come up against her round arse. Lisa wasn't slim like Pippa, and while she wasn't fat, the combination of her solid frame and her dedication to her career had meant that she'd never had time for a man. It was widely known that, at the age of 30, she was still a virgin. I looked across at Pippa. She wasn't crying. She was pale, shaking, and clearly petrified, but she wasn't crying. I figured that meant that she hadn't got to "complete loss of control" yet. I couldn't wait to see what her tipping point would be.
I watched Lisa start to wake up, and crouched on my heels in front of her face while she started to make noises, then test the bonds holding her to the table. I stroked her face with a finger, while bringing my cock back to full readiness. She started shouting at me, telling me to get the fuck out, and not to fucking touch her with my filthy fucking hands. I spotted my penknife on the mantelpiece, stood to get it, and then used the saw attachment to remove her clothes, destroying them in the process. She screamed and swore the whole time, but with all of the neighbours at work, and living in a detached double-glazed property - nobody was ever going to hear.
