The Intruder

Chapter One-2

Having patted her dry, the slave soothed Bethany’s skin with a cool lotion and then took her, still completely naked, back downstairs. Their Mistress was now sitting on a sofa, a mirror propped up on the seat beside her. For the first time that day she addressed Bethany, instructing her to come close and get on all fours, her bottom towards the sofa. Beth obeyed, looking over her shoulder as her Mistress held up the mirror so the results of her ordeal could be revealed to her for the first time. Her buttocks were almost scarlet and glistening with the oily lotion. In contrast pale words had been formed on each cheek where the black latex had masked the skin, clear now despite only being seen in reflection, a humiliating sun tattoo. On one buttock the legend ‘BUM w***e’ and on the other ‘f**k HERE’, with a neat arrow going diagonally down towards the small indent in the cheek that heralded the gateway to her anus.

Beth’s face turned as red as her bottom with the humiliation and the excited thoughts of what was to follow. Would she be left at the mercy of the slaves? Or perhaps taken to the Mistress’s club—or worse still to a public place—and left exposed and on her knees, with any passer-by able to read and act upon the instructions clearly marked on her arse? The Mistress spoke again, telling her that the punishment was far from over. Beth gasped as she saw the leather paddle being raised up, ready to deliver unspeakable pain and pleasure to her tortured flesh.

Now writhing on the bed, Beth was frigging herself furiously, trying hard not to take herself over the edge, wanting to find out what else was to become of her in her perverted imagination. She knew she couldn’t last long, both hands now simultaneously working her p***y as the filth raged in her head. The sudden chime from the phone made her squeal and jump, her fingers leaping from her quim with a lewd plop. She answered the phone hastily, like a guilty child caught in the act, her fingers smearing the receiver with her juices. Her husband seldom called at this time when he was away. He sure as hell picked his moments.

“Where are you?” His voice seemed stern and unfamiliar.

“Stephen?” Her head was still immersed in the memories of the fantasy and her concentration struggled to resurface though she knew something was wrong. The voice said again:

“Where are you?”

Her previous excitement was being replaced by edginess now as she tried to make sense of the situation. The voice sounded intelligent and with no accent, just like her husband’s but it was slightly deeper and more commanding somehow. It was this that compelled her to reply,

“I’m in bed. Stephen what’s-”

“Do exactly as I say. Stay where you are and do not make a sound. I am coming to rob you now.”

The phone went dead and Beth stared in shock at it. It wasn’t Stephen. Was it Stephen? Had he said ‘rob’? The adrenalin shiver started at the top of her head and spread coldly down her body and into her limbs. If it wasn’t Stephen, then who was it? A crank caller seemed the obvious answer. She checked the last number re-dial, which proved to be withheld. She was worried now. What should she do, and where the f**k was her useless husband when she needed him? Since she didn’t know his number, phoning him would entail leaving the perceived safety of her bedroom and going downstairs for her cell phone. She climbed off the bed onto shaky legs and put on her silk gown to cover her nakedness. She had only made two steps towards the door when she heard the stairs creaking outside her room. Her cry froze in her throat as she looked around vainly for a weapon of some kind or a place to hide. In the end she did what all good victims in horror films do and climbed back into bed with her knees up, with only her head peeping out from the covers.

As the door swung slowly open, two pencil-thin beams of light speared through the darkness and lit up points on the opposite wall. The figure entered the room and the lights swung around towards her before being lost in the glow from her bedside lamps. She could see the beams came from the small torches mounted either side of his head, an apparatus usually favoured by SWAT teams and the odd club DJ.

He moved silently towards the bed, everything below his chest obscured from her vision by the TV. His approach brought his head into view and she could see he was wearing a shiny black balaclava-style mask beneath his torch apparatus. The mask covered most of his face, cutting away just above the tip of his nose and leaving his mouth and chin completely exposed before joining back up at the neck. His eyes were hidden behind slits cut into the mask, and any chance of observing them was prevented by the torch beams. The mask was made either of patent leather or rubber, she could not tell which. If he had been a superhero, it was possible his mum may have fashioned it for him. In all likelihood it had simply been purchased from an internet s*x shop.

Beth’s jaw was trembling uncontrollably with fear and her heart was pounding in her chest. Inexplicably and selfishly her p***y was still trying to demand some attention, seemingly oblivious to the current crisis. The man was now at the foot of the bed and she could appreciate his size. He was taller than her husband and with broader shoulders. He rested one gloved hand on the top of the TV and with a fresh rush of crippling fear Beth could see he was holding a knife. The blade was flat and short, perhaps only three inches in length although quite broad. It was made of polished steel, almost white in colour as it glinted menacingly in the half-light. Now would have been a good time to scream for help but Beth was still rendered mute and in the end it was he who broke the silence.

“I am not going to harm you,” he said, “do exactly as I say and you will be fine.”

His voice was calm and even and Beth found herself easing away from the peak of hysteria, although her gaze remained resolutely on the knife.

“I am just going to take a few things. They can be easily replaced. I do not plan to hurt you, do you understand?”

She managed to nod in affirmation. Something in the way he spoke led her to believe his words and she felt assured and almost secure in his presence. He slowly moved sideways from behind the TV and emerged into the open and Beth finally broke her silence, a short gasping sob escaping from her lips at what she saw. Everything he wore was black: his sweater and the small duffel bag that he had over his shoulder, the army boots and his loose leather trousers that were fastened with the help of a heavy belt. The trousers had no zipper, instead a pair of nickel studs by the waistline could be used to secure a flap designed to conceal the crotch. These studs were not, however, currently being utilised. The flap was hanging down and bursting from the opening was the most enormous erect c**k that Bethany had ever seen.

She was simply transfixed by his member. Its girth was huge and even at the end she would have struggled to get her hand around it. It was almost three times as long as the knife, which now looked pitifully impotent next to this great weapon. The network of raised veins stretched at the skin and looked ready to burst. The foreskin was partially pulled back revealing a bulbous purple head that shone with its engorgement and threatened to explode. His c**k was free of pubic hair, his smooth scrotum tensing as his heavy balls rose and fell in their tight confines. If she could have taken her eyes of his c**k she might have seen the smug sneer that flitted across his lips.

He turned from her and moved across to the chest of drawers to her left. She could now see the side view of his erection as it stretched out from his body. She shivered at the thought of being made to take these huge dimensions inside her, and fear returned to push away her relative composure. Despite his assurances she now realised he must have plans beyond simple robbery, or why else was his p***s naked and ready for action? Her knees closed together in reaction to her thoughts but her p***y, still flushed with arousal from her wanking, twinged with anticipation.

The man had opened the little box on top of her chest that contained her jewellery. She now felt the first pang of regret that they were not more secure as there were several items of both sentimental and monetary value. She knew Stephen would be more worried about the latter. She wondered what else the Intruder would plunder from the house. Some of the art and artefacts her husband had accrued were quite valuable and potentially irreplaceable. There was little of hers around the house except her phone and purse, which she assumed had already been emptied. He was loading the contents of the box into his duffel bag and she again found herself staring at his crotch. She had more to lose than jewellery. Looking up at him she saw that he was smiling at her, obviously enjoying the pull his member had on her vision. She jumped slightly and quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught ogling him. His smile, she realised, was one of arrogance. He expected her to be transfixed by his organ and took pleasure from the control it had over her.

Much as she disliked his arrogance she could not defeat it. She found herself unable to keep her eyes off his big c**k. How on earth did he manage to sustain such a rigid erection? It was harder than any she had seen and she knew that if she could just put her hand around it, it would feel like hot iron in her palm. Again she realised her fear had ebbed away and instead she was beset by a calmness at odds with her situation. It came from him. He was controlling her without force by emitting an air of assured authority. Bizarrely she was finding herself glad to be under his power and looking forward to his commands.

He had returned to his original position by the side of the bed and was staring at her, the arrogant smile not yet quite gone. When he spoke his voice was again calm but terse:

“Do as I say. Come here and kneel in front of me.”

Her heart was banging hard but despite her shaking limbs she complied, climbing from the bed and dropping down so that her face was level with his p***s. Her breathing was hard and audible as she knelt before him staring at his beautiful c**k. It was bobbing gently as the blood pulsed through it and her head was going up and down, following its movements. It was hypnotizing her, actually drawing her in closer until she could smell his arousal. The glans was still impossibly swollen and ready to burst, a tear of pre-come glistening at the very tip.

She was waiting for his command. She felt no fear or trepidation, only the desire to plunge her mouth down onto his snake and feel the venom spray into her. She had to force herself to keep her hands by her sides, to keep her mouth shut and wait for his instruction which she knew must come. She could feel the wetness running from her p***y and she was now desperate to have him try to f**k her with this huge c**k. Still he remained unmoved, torturing her with his silence and completely aware of the effect he was having on her. When finally he spoke it was quietly, but she still jumped and her stomach churned, her bowels loosening with fearful anticipation.