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Chapter 1 The trap is set
My name is Norah
Bentley. I am a 42 year old divorced female. I am proud of what I have
achieved. After a messy divorce 7 years ago I threw myself single-mindedly into
my passion: property investment. I have now built up a property portfolio of 16
rental houses and have a net worth of over one million dollars. Yes, I flaunt
my success.
Many people call
me a hard-nosed bitch. I am ruthless with my tenants and have no time for hard
luck stories. Pay the rent on time, or take a hike. As a female I am not
prepared to show weakness or compassion, as there are always the no-hopers who
are waiting to take advantage.
This is my
persona. Successful, tough, emotionless.
Knowing this
about me makes my story seem even more unbelievable. Even now, many months
later, my mind still whirls with confusion.
Before I begin my
story, I must make a confession, as much as it hurts my pride. My divorce 7
years ago cut a deep wound in my emotions that just would not heal. I confess I
was not a good wife. I was demanding, jealous, and smothering. I should not
have been surprised that the useless prick took refuge in the panties of his
brainless, buxom secretary, then left me for her.
I cried non-stop
for 10 days. When I stopped crying, I dried my eyes and resolved I would never
be hurt again.
With a ruthless
passion I focused on property investment and became damn good at it. I did not
allow myself to have private life; as to do so would leave me vulnerable. Oh, I
had a few one-night stands, but no one lasted more than a few weeks before I
booted them out of my life. Gradually the men dried up. I guess my reputation
preceded me.
Eventually the
few close friends I had following my divorce also melted away. Initially I
thumbed my nose at them, thinking they were jealous of my success, but I now
realise I was probably not a nice person to be around.
Enough
of my bleeding-heart confessions. It is just a delaying tactic. I will reluctantly
tell you my story.
The 17th
started off like any other day. My life is very
regimented, and I like to believe this is because I am focused and successful.
My alarm goes off at
At
However Mark and
Diane were an attractive, well groomed young couple,
well presented, and although they were both still students they did have
part-time jobs and ensured me there would be no problems with the lease.
What a damn fool
I was. I hated to be proven wrong. These young troublemakers will be gone
within a week, I resolved. I do not
phone, as it gives my wormy tenants an opportunity to spin me a sad, sob story.
For me it is the full frontal, knock-on-the-door assault.
It was late
afternoon when I pulled up outside 17 Wisteria in my sporty little Mercedes.
Mark and Diane’s battered Honda was parked outside so I knew they were home.
With authority I strode up to the front door and knocked loudly. To my
annoyance there was no response. A knocked again, longer and
louder. Still no response. By now I was getting
more than a little steamy under the collar. Stop avoiding me you useless little
worms.
I knocked a third
time, loud enough to wake the dead. But again it elicited no response.
Frustrated, I tried the front door and found it was unlocked. I stepped inside
and called out. There was no answer but I could hear a noise down the hallway.
Not one to back away, I strode down the hallway. The bedroom door was partly
ajar. I was about to hammer on the door when I caught a glimpse of Diane and I
was frozen in my tracks. I stared, disbelieving.
Diane was tied
spreadeagled on the bed, facedown, totally naked, her hands and feet tied to
each corner. Rope was also tied tightly around her waist, and then looped
through the crack of her buttocks and obviously secured in the front. Her labia
were split by the rope and from my vantage point I could clearly see them
protruding, red and swollen. Diane’s buttocks, thighs, and upper back were
covered with red welts were she had obviously been whipped with something.
My heart began to
beat furiously, and I feared I was witnessing some sort of assault and battery
on Diane. Without breathing I took a step back, with the intention of
retreating to safety and phoning the police. But then to my amazement Mark came
into view. His young body was also totally naked. His semi
erect penis swinging freely in front of athletic body.
My mind was
racing with confusion. What was I witnessing here.
Initially I had thought it was an assault by an intruder, but now it appeared
if it was some sort of debauched, perverted sexual activity. I was sickened,
and it confirmed my low option of today’s youth.
But despite my
distaste at what I was witnessing, my eyes remained fixated on the scene I was
viewing through the slightly ajar door. Mark was untying the ropes that secured
Diane’s ankle and wrists to the bed corners. Once untied, Diane took a moment
to rub the painful looking, ugly red welts on her buttocks. But instead of
getting up off the bed, I watch disbelievingly as she slowly turned over on her
back, then opened her legs and raised her arms above her head. Mark moved
silently around the bed, again securing Diane’s hands and feet to the corners
of the bed.
I could not help
noticing her breasts. They were small but very firm, and still held their form
despite the fact she was lying on her back. Her nipples were erect and pointing
invitingly into the air.
Mark then untied
the rope that was secured tightly around her waist, and pulled it out from
between her legs. Diane’s pubic region was even more clearly exposed to me. She
had neatly trimmed but sparsely covered blond pubic hair that did little to
cover her vaginal region. Mark disappeared out of view for a moment then
returned, a vicious looking short wispy whip held in his right hand.
I was aware that
beads of sweat were beginning to roll down my forehead. I was only too aware I
needed to do something. Either burst in and confront
the pair of them, or get my butt out of there and deal with the rent problem
later. But unbelievably I just stood there, taking in the debauched scene. I
was revolted, but could not take my eyes away from the scene that was before
me. It was somehow giving me sensory overload in a manner I could not even
begin to comprehend.
I was transfixed
as Mark rested the whip on Diane’s pubic mound
“Lift it, “ he commanded, without emotion
Incredibly Diane
arched her buttocks off the bed, pushing her pubic mound high in the air. It
was one of the most sexually crass acts I had ever seen in my 42 years. Yet I
was glued to the spot, almost not daring to blink.
With Diane’s
pubic mound raised high, and her legs spread, I could even see her engorged
clitoris pushing out from its hood, brazenly displaying her sexual arousal.
Here juices were oozing from her swollen lips. Despite my distaste at what I
was witnessing, I also knew that her fully aroused vagina was one of the most
truly deeply erotic things I had ever witnessed.
Although my
former husband and I had been sexually active when first married, I had soon
become bored, and eventually found the whole groping, sweaty act of making love
something I tried to avoid. It was always done in bed with the light off and I
tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. Any attempts at foreplay by
my husband were discouraged. Although I hated to face up to it, deep down I
knew that it was hardly surprising he started banging his bimbo secretary.
Mark continued to
rest the whip on Diane’s pubic mound
“Higher” he again
commanded
Diane strained to
arch herself even higher off the bed. Her buttocks were now 12 inches clear of
the bed, and despite myself I admired her agility and athleticism. The muscles
in her shapely legs were clearly defined, and she was obviously carrying no
extra weight. Incredibly I found myself trying to visualise being in Diane’s
place. I knew I would look nowhere as svelte as she did. Although I was not
grossly overweight, I had not taken good care of my body in recent years. I had
packed on many extra pounds on my hips and thighs through poor diet and a lack
of exercise. My constant excuse was I was too busy being successful to worry
about exercising or eating properly.
I almost shook my
head in bemusement. Here I was witnessing the most sexually explicit act I had
ever seen, and I was worrying how overweight I would look if ever I were
subjected to the same abuse.
‘Forget it girl’,
I told myself. Do you seriously think you would allow yourself to be abused
like that by another person? Not bloody likely. But even as I silently
chastised myself and wanted to leave my young tenants to their sexually
sadistic games, I could not divert my eyes from what I was witnessing.
Despite myself, I
found my eyes wandering up Diane’s well defined legs, taking in her straining
calf muscles, then again taking in the sight of her most private of regions.
Diane’s pubic lips had now been forced open from the combination of having her
legs forced open, her hips elevated, and her high level of sexual arousal. I
could now see the delicate pinkness of the inside of her vagina. I was breathing
heavily, I felt flushed, and sweat continued to run down my forehead. I badly
needed to wipe my brow to stop the sweat from running into my eyes but was
afraid the movement would draw attention to myself. If
I could see Mark, it stood to reason that he could also see me if he glanced
toward the doorway.
It seemed like an
eternity that Diane had been forced to keep her hips raised high off the bed,
although in reality I had no concept of time. Then in a sudden movement Mark
raised the whip and brought it down on her pubic mould. It happened so quickly
that I jumped with fright when Diane let out a howl of anguish as the whip connect. An ugly red welt quickly appeared, clearly
visible even through her blond wispy pubic hair. She had lowered her buttocks
back onto the bed and was grimacing with pain.
‘How can the
stupid little tart allow herself to be subjected to
such a sadistic act’? I was totally confused. What I was witnessing was
barbaric and surely nobody would willingly subject themselves to such pain. Yet
I had only too clearly seen with my own eyes how sexually aroused Diane was.
“Up!” Mark demanded, again resting the whip
provocatively on her pubic mound.
Diane hesitated
for a few moments, then to my utter amazement she
strained her leg muscles to get her hips again elevated high off the bed. The
whip struck a second time, crisscrossing the existing welt, and again Diane
cried out in a sob of pain.
The sweat had now
run down my forehead into my eyes and my vision was becoming blurred despite
the fact I was constantly blinking my eyes. I decided it was time to beat a
hasty retreat, although I knew deep down some primal urge wanted me to stay. I
slowly retraced my steps down the hallway, exited the open front door and very
quietly closed it behind me. I almost ran down the pathway, quickly opening my
car door and jumping inside. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. A glance in the
mirror confirmed my face was flushed like I had never seen before, and I
struggled to slow my pounding heart. I felt as if I had just run a marathon.
A wave of
revulsion suddenly swept over me. I felt sick at my own conduct. How could I
have just stood there ogling that perverted act? I shook my head in
bewilderment. I resolved to block the whole incident out and never think of it
again. I am good at blocking out emotions that clog my mind and do not
contribute to my persona of success.
However, much to
my annoyance, I failed miserably that evening to block the events I had
witnessed from my mind. Like some pornographic video it just kept replaying in
front of my visual senses. In the end, out of total frustration, I decided to
take a sleeping pill and retire early, knowing I would feel much better after a
good night’s sleep.
Once in bed I
kept my mind focused on the financial journal I was reading. Thankfully I felt
my eyes became droopy and was overcome by sleep. But less than an hour later I
was awake, my head thick and fuzzy from the strong sleeping pill I had taken.
Still the sickening scene of the hapless Diane played before my senses. My body
was burning as if I was running a fever. There was inner warmth in the pit of
my stomach that felt unusually pleasant.
I tried to think
clearly through the haze of my drowsiness, to make sense of the pleasant
sensations flowing through my body. Almost without knowing it I allowed one of
my hands to stray down to my vagina. I was wet beyond belief. As my fingers
grazed my clitoris it felt like an electric current running through my body. As
if following a secret command from deep within, I splayed my legs wide open,
then strained to lift my pelvis high in the air, mimicking the lurid act I had
witnessed of my young tenant. As I imagined a silent whip being raised above me
I slid my fingers deep inside my vagina and finger-fucked myself with
relentless vigour. In no time my hips were bucking with the most intense orgasm
I had ever experienced. As I lay there afterwards, my body glowing with a
pleasant warm sweat, I drifted off to a deep and restful sleep.
When I awoke in
the morning I was unsure if the whole experience had been real or a dream. But
deep down I knew and I felt revolted with myself. I had not masturbated since I
was an awkward teenager fantasising over some impossible love.
After two cups of
very strong coffee I felt my mind settling down to its normal, well-ordered
self. I checked my on-line internet bank statement and noticed that Mark and
Diane’s rent had gone through, albeit two days late. A little voice in my head
told me to let it go, not to worry about the late payment. But that was not my
style. I don’t forgive and forget. If I let them get away with it now, they
will think they can take advantage of me whenever they like. I looked at my
watch. It was a little after
The phone rang
for what seemed an eternity before a sleepy voice greeted me at the other end.
It was Mark. I informed him, formally, that it was Mrs Bentley, his landlady,
speaking. Mark seemed unimpressed, and said nothing
“Your rent was 2
days late” I spoke angrily
“I have paid it
lady” was Mark’s belligerent response
I exploded.
“Listen here, you little fucker. The rent is to be paid on the due date, not
when you feel like paying it.”
“And if I don’t?”
Far from being fazed by my verbal assault, Mark almost seemed to be enjoying
himself
“What?” I
shouted, disbelieving that he could even think of asking me such a question
Without giving me
the opportunity to answer his question he pressed on.
“Are landlords
able to enter a tenants house without getting
permission first?” Mark’s question was voiced with confidence and authority.
My blood ran
cold. Surely he did not know I had entered their house yesterday and witnessed
their sordid sexual activities. Unusually for me, I was flustered, and unsure
of how to respond.
“Well?”
I hung up. I was
shaking with anger that he had treated me with such contempt. The cheeky little upstart. But beneath my anger I was deeply
concerned by his question. Why had he asked it? Surely he couldn’t have known.
There was no way they would have continued in such a brazen manner if they had
known someone was watching.
Although it
worried me, I eventually rationalised that it was just a silly coincidence.
Nevertheless I shied away from another confrontation with the pair of them,
deciding that in this case I might just make an exception and let the matter
lie.
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