Clive had taken her to her favourite restaurant, San Martino in Chelsea, and had
encouraged her to drink more wine than usual with her trout. She was anxious to be alone
with him. At their normal corner table Rosemary was able to rub her foot and knee up and
down the length of Clive's leg without anyone being aware. His knee gently slid
forward and she trapped it between her own thighs, squeezing gently.
Irritatingly for Rosemary, Clive seemed more interested in her doing him a little
favour than he was in her attentions. It seemed a friend of his was working on a
university thesis and this would be helped by sight of some papers from Donald's firm
- some project or other that Clive knew the firm was engaged in. It was wrong, a part of
Rosemary's drink-relaxed mind knew that, but Clive was persistent. He knew exactly
where the papers would be in Donald's large wall-safe in his study and he would use
the copier so that the papers could be replaced in minutes without anyone being aware. It
was harmless, but would do his friend a big favour.
Rosemary had as usual helped with the expensive bill. In fact, as was her habit,
she paid the majority of it. She knew Clive didn't have too much money but that
wasn't a problem, Donald always topped up her considerable weekly spending allowance
upon request and without question.
They paid up and took a cab back to Rosemary's house. On the back seat,
Rosemary pressed her breasts against Clive's shoulder, poking her tongue delicately
in his ear as she whispered in a low soft voice how she wanted to get his clothes off when
they reached her house.
But Clive insisted that they get the matter of the thesis out of the way first and
suggested that Rosemary opened the safe and then went to have a bath, where he would join
her after he'd attended to the copying. Minor alarm bells jangled in Rosemary's
brain, but this was Clive. This was someone who, although he dominated her, would never do
her any harm or rob her. Anyway, only Donald's office papers were in the outer safe
and their money was locked away in another, smaller, safe. Stuffy old office papers, it
could do no harm for Clive to take his damn copies if the sight of some stupid old papers
inspired his friend enough to help him through university.
Although Rosemary stood with her back to Clive as she dialled the combination, she
could never have envisaged the camcorder (one of several bought secretly by Clive with
Rosemary's own money) filming silently, recording everything. Or indeed the dusky
maid, Angelica, taking still shots with an expensive camera. The camera never lies and
these two intrusions faithfully showed Rosemary opening the safe and handing several
bundles of files over for Clive to sort through and copy. It didn't miss Rosemary
pressing her loins against Clive, her hands in his back pockets, pulling him against her
as he stood impassive, Rosemary kissing his neck, raising one of her legs as she kissed
him deeply before leaving the room to go upstairs.
The cameras, or the finally edited videos, did not show Clive and Angelica sorting
through the files, extracting the ones marked Confidential and copying them. Nor did it
show Clive unexpectedly finding a diary in the safe which recorded deals and payments
which Donald really should never have committed to paper.
Rosemary relaxed, luxuriating in her scented bath, the effects of the alcohol
gradually trickling from her senses with the perspiration which popped from her satin
skin. She gradually became aware that Clive had been downstairs for nearly an hour.
Reluctantly she stood up, water cascading from her scrubbed pink nudity. Drying herself
briefly, she found a white towelling robe, pulled it on. Just as she reached the bathroom
door, it opened.
Clive stood there. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said in the
'official' accent he used for his 'games'. "I have reason to
believe you have a banned substances about your person and I must give you a complete body
search."
"Please, you cannot do that, I'm a respectable married woman,” responded
Rosemary, joining in with the game they often played. She loved Clive's dominating
ways with her, loved playing the submissive role. It contrasted with the reality of her
position in life which her marriage to Donald gave her. She could just lie back and be
told what to do within the safe environment of her home and marriage. No decisions to be
made or questions asked. A creature of fortune being turned this way and that by the
vagaries of life. No control, no responsibilities or blame.
"Out of the bathroom, hands on your head, please, open your mouth wide."
Rosemary complied, her gown gaping open to reveal most of her breasts, small and
conical, with hard pink tips. Clive's fingers pushed gently inside her mouth,
exploring.
"Tongue out, please, as far as you can."
Feeling slightly silly, Rosemary extended her tongue. Clive's fingers cupped
it, slid suggestively up and down it. Then he brought his mouth down nearly to hers, his
tongue briefly darting out to touch hers and then withdrew. Rosemary leaned forward
slightly.
"Keep quite still, no moving at all." His hands were now softly probing
her ears, they were bright red as he stroked over the small lobes. The knowing hands were
now on the nape of her neck, under the hairline. Rosemary trembled and shuddered, the
fingers felt as if they were charged with electricity.
"Remove the gown, please."
Rosemary undid the sash and let her covering drop in a white puddle at her feet to
reveal her splendid nudity.
"Spread-eagle against a wall please, arms and legs straight, feet away from
the wall."
Rosemary closed her eyes and shuddered in delicious anticipation as she heard the
rustle of clothing. Suddenly Clive was right behind her, naked, she could feel the male
hardness of him brushing the globes of her buttocks. She began to move.
"Keep quite still or I'll stop." A deep sigh of frustration as
Rosemary resumed her unmoving position as a nude marble statue.
Strong muscular hands and arms sliding over her, cupping her breasts, over her flat
stomach to delve in the soft down below. Between the warm wetness of her spread thighs
making her gyrate involuntarily and squirm, then up inside her as the hot rigid pole of
his manhood slid between the cleft of her buttocks. A slap on her buttock cheeks.
"Hands and knees, legs wide." He was going to take her doggy fashion
again.
As Rosemary knelt, fully stretched, Clive's stomach slapped against her
buttocks, his hands squeezing her small breasts, covering them almost completely, his
manhood pumping into her; she was totally unaware, probably wouldn't have cared at
that moment anyway, that another concealed video camera was purring away again.
The initially tender hand on her soft swaying breasts suddenly became, at
Clive's whim, two cruel pincers. Rosemary gasped, eyes screwed shut, and went rigid
as a strong forefinger and thumb gripped tightly and stretched each tender breast and
nipple. Clive luxuriated in the exquisite feel of Rosemary's soft buttocks clenching
with pain, her vagina gripping his root as she tensed.
Clive whispered in her ear.
"Every time I pump into you I want to hear you say 'Thank you sir, fuck
me harder please' and I want to hear you say it loud and clear. If you get a bit
carried away or forget to say it, you can expect these little rosebuds to become very
sore, I'm afraid. You understand?"
In her mixture of pain and pleasure, Rosemary could only nod her tousled head but
the pincers pulled her orbs again so that Rosemary threw her head back. Clive's mouth
descended to her ear again.
"Tell me you understand - a nice loud firm voice - forget you're kneeling
on the floor like an animal. Then we will begin, and you will get your reward."
"I - I understand." Rosemary spoke as clearly as she could under the
circumstances, fists clenched into balls on the floor. She was struggling to forget the
ghastly pinching and pulling on her nipples whilst also trying to focus on the wonderful
throbbing rod buried in her womanhood - the rod she craved and which she wanted to slide,
thrust and pulse within her.
She sighed with relief and pleasure; the horrible grip slackened on her buds of
love and the piston began moving within her, sliding out until it barely tickled her outer
lips and then pushing back right into her smooth passage until his groin tickled the
rounded cheeks of her bottom. Then the beginning of a pinch on her nipples reminded
Rosemary of her obligation, her duty, if she was to receive pleasure and avoid pain.
"Thank you, sir, fuck me harder, please." Rosemary managed to perform the
ritual and was rewarded by another stroke.
"Thank you, sir, fuck me harder, please."
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