Checking his watch again, Jack mulled over in his mind his meticulously detailed plan, one in which he had fastidiously calculated every move, every action he would take, until he had her bound and gagged, her white fleshy ass hoisted high into the air and that juicy clam, perfectly puffy and symmetrical inviting him to fuck it. He would make her beg, he had decided. Tonight, that bitch was going to beg, first for him to fuck her and then for him to stop, which of course, he did not intend to do. Tonight, she was going to get it rough, hard and definitely without mercy.

         Plunged deep into his raincoat pockets, Jack’s numb fingers rummaged, touching, simply seeking out recognizable shapes and textures. He knew it was all there, but wanted to milk his feelings of undeniable sensuality and mastery. A thin cord, joined to a hard round shaped ball, a little over an inch in diameter, confirmed the gag was present. Thicker, heavier and significantly more course lengths of rope made him smile. He could see her naked body bent over the bed, hands hopelessly tied behind her back in unremitted surrender – what choice would she have. The unmistakable warmth of his thick, one-piece woollen head cover would mask his face and the six-inch steel blade, safely enveloped in a leather sheath, would ensure her silence until he forced her mouth full, unable to utter a single sound from the gag.

         Then there was her mask.

         Sensual between his fingers, its touch sent shivers down his spine. Already he could see it over her head, nostril’s flaring and red painted, pouting lips, the only part of her face visible, except his white jism, contrasting heavily against the shiny black of the mask, made of smooth stretchy Lycra, dribbling from between those fuckable red lips.

         ‘Gag?’ He chuckled. He hoped she would. Freshly erupted bile would mean he had got to her at a deeper level and the smell would forever remind her of tonight and what he did to her. Tonight wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about his need to inject his cum deeply inside her. This was a statement. This was going to be an act of revenge for all the misery she caused. He wanted this to be an everlasting memory, one she would take with her to her grave. God knows she had earned it.

         Finally, two pieces of freezing cold, metallic, finely machined, solid-silver nipple clamps contrasted heavily against the fiery warmth of his erection angrily trapped within confining clothes. He pressed the clamps against his shaft - hard. The thin and sharp edges bit deeply into soft, blood pumped flesh. The pain was instant, intense and gratifying, but was nothing compared to what she would feel. He almost felt jealous.

         Stamping his feet again, he wondered if she would be naked when he pulled back the bed cover. That is when she would wake. He was sure of it. At first, she wouldn’t know what was happening. It would take a few moments for her to realise that something was wrong, that someone was in her house, standing by her bed, his large frame hovering over her. 

         Then the moment would come. Terror erupting across her face and disbelief filling those incredible soft blue eyes, she would know, she would have to face the inevitable – would she resist? Jack hoped so. He hoped she would try to run. He hoped she would be wearing something thin and flimsy that covered most of her nakedness, but would flash just enough skin to turn him on as she panicked and fought, with long, long thin legs thrashing and kicking out at him. If he did it right, if he let her struggle, he would see in the semi-darkness flashes of uncovered pussy and heaving breasts and maybe a hint of her ass. He liked that. He liked the idea of that.

         Then he could tear at her nightwear. Then he could rip and pull at her clothing, the terrifying sound of her only cover shredded without her able to prevent it would fill her ears with the dread of the inevitable. The sound of her impeding nakedness would fill the room. She would not be able to stop it. The knowledge that she could not thwart him would fill her tiny body with horror and unavoidable hopelessness. With any luck, she would urinate on the bed, making her sense of degradation complete and an opportunity for him to push her uptown, snobby face into it as he fucked her from behind, but it wasn’t going to end there. Also in his pocket was a small bottle of lubricant. He had thought long and hard over the lubricant and decided to use it, not because he didn’t want her to feel the pain, but because he wanted to feel the tightness and sheer eroticism of his erection in her back passage and didn’t want to leave it to chance.

         Then he would make her suck it. He would make her take his erection deep into her mouth, pulling her hair tightly, pulling her head back and making sure her throat was open enough to take all of him. That’s when he would make her taste her own shit. Then she would know how he feels. That’s when she would experience the ultimate humiliation. Maybe that’s when she will gag?

         He hoped so.