I am still fuming about Sebastian's behavior the next morning as I am making my first cup off coffee. How dare he treat me with such disrespect? My husband is still home and eating breakfast while reading the paper. I am ready for him to leave. He has been curious about my foul behavior since yesterday. I can't tell him that the handyman has me sexually frustrated.
When I think my mood can't get any worse my phone rings and I recognize the number from the caller ID as Sebastian's. I swear in my head. My husband looks at me and asks, "Are you going to fucking answer that?" "Hello," I say answering the phone. "Good morning, Grace. Yesterday while I was there I was so distracted by your services that I forgot to get payment for my services," he declares. "I do apologize for that," I say through my teeth. "I will make that up to you today. I can't come over myself today, because I am swamped, but my brother, Tristan, will be over for the payment," he informs me. "That'll be fine," I hear myself say. We hang up and my husband is looking at me with a questioning look. "That was the handyman who fixed the sink yesterday, and it appears I forgot to pay him," I inform him with a nervous laugh. He reaches into his wallet and hands me money, and says "Give him a decent tip out of this for not making you wait for his services." "He's making me fucking wait for his sexual services," I think to myself, but I say to my husband nonchalantly, "Sure no problem."
About 30 minutes after my husband leaves for work I hear the doorbell. I look through the peephole to confirm it is Tristan. The name on the shirt confirms it and he is carrying what appears to be a tool box. As I open the door his hand snakes out and grabs me by the throat and pushes me into the foyer wall. "Please don't hurt me," I beg of him. He replies, "Sebastian tells me that he left you hanging yesterday and that you needed to be properly fucked today. I don't know about proper fucking, but I do know about improper fucking and you'll be begging me for more before I am done."
Before I can react he drags me by the hair into the first open door which is the billiard room and sits down the toolbox. He closes and locks the door. His hand unleashes me and I run for the door. He grabs the back of my nightgown and the thin fabric rips. "Whore, I like a woman who fights me," he claims. "I am not a fucking whore," I scream. He grabs both of my nipples roughly and uses them to pull me closer to him. "What do you call a woman that fucks someone who's not her husband," he whispers in my ear. "You call her a whore and today you will be my whore, willingly or unwillingly. The choice is yours."
I stand there naked and mute pondering the circumstances before me. "I will come to you willingly," I inform him. "That's a good slut," he responds with mischief in his eyes. He takes his clothes off and he is gloriously aroused. He is covered in tattoos. I unknowingly lick my lips. "Like what you see, tramp?" he questions. "Yes," I mutter.
He is standing before me and pushes me to my knees. He grabs his dick and pushes himself towards my mouth. I hesitate opening for him and he pinches my nose so hard that I am forced to open my mouth. With his cock in my mouth and both of his hands holding onto the back of my head he rocks back and forth. With each thrust he goes deeper and deeper until I gag.
He pushes me back and I fall onto my ass. He reaches into his toolbox and pulls out somethings I can't see what are. He lifts me into his arms and throws me onto the pooltable. I see the rope as he ties my arms and legs to the pooltable. My crotch is hanging slightly off of the table. I open my mouth to question what he is going to do when he places a ball gag into my mouth. He places a blindfold over my eyes. I whine at the discomfort. He bites my nipple hard and tells me to shut the fuck up.
I feel him enter my asshole with his aroused dick. My entire body stiffens as he thrusts in and out not attempting to be gentle at all. My asshole has never been used for the pleasure of a man. With each thrust I feel myself starting to relax and I realize that I am enjoying it.
He removes himself and I feel something cold and slick being inserted into my asshole. If I had to guess it is a glass buttplug. I feel him thrust his cock into my vagina. He pounds me hard until I feel myself stiffen and release as he stiffens and release. I feel his cum running down my legs as he removes the gag. His fingers scoop up some of the ejaculation and he shoves it into my mouth.
He unties me and has me standing in front of him. "You're a dirty bitch," he says with a sneer.
He forces me back onto my knees and instructs me to lick off the sexual juices from him. Once he is satisfied that he is properly cleaned he stands me on my feet. "I'll be needing that payment," he says as he smacks me on the ass. I sorely walk into the kitchen to retrieve the money for the sink as he is getting dressed.
He kisses me on the forehead as he grabs the money, and says, "We'll have to do that again soon. You're such a good whore with a great pussy that's tight on my large cock." He walks out the door not waiting for my response. I wonder to myself if I would like to have Tristan inside me again and I believe I do.
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