Inspired on viewing the classic erotic film Emanuel, again after a ten year period.
Emanuel was essentially a newly-wed, having married Karl Gehringer only a week before moving to the outskirts of Los Angeles a little over a month ago. She quickly learned that she was reasonably good at tennis, well at Karl's club anyway. She was nineteen and virtually everyone else at the club was in their thirties, or older. Her youth gave her an advantage especially in the longer sets.
She played twice weekly with the ambition of improving her game by the fall. She didn't flirt with any of the men she encountered at the club. After all she had her man; and while Karl was her first lover as far as she was concerned, sex with Karl was more than interesting, it was compelling.
And so, when Karl was forced into leaving her at home while he flew to Hamburg, Germany to work out the details of a promising merger of his business with that of the largest auto manufacturer in Germany, Emanuel threw herself into tennis on a daily basis.
Emanuel parked her Jaguar in the country club's parking lot rather than have the valet park it for her. She considered it her car, and didn't want just anyone handling it.
Emanuel walked into the women's locker room and looked for an open locker. She found an empty one between two women who changed into street clothing without exposing any naughty parts.
Emanuel opened her locker and began removing her outer garments. Another, older woman stood across from her, slowly undressing but her eyes remained on Emanuel.
As the woman removed her bra, she began a conversation with the younger Emanuel. "I hear you're quite the tennis player. It's Mrs. Gehringer, isn't it?"
Stepping out of her dress, Emanuel said, "Yes, but its Emanuel, please, not Mrs. Gehringer."
"Emanuel ... what a lovely name," the woman turned toward Emanuel, presenting her with a full view of her generous breasts.
Non-plussed, Emanuel plucked her bra strap and dropped the bra into her hand then turned to the other woman; they were nipple to nipple with only inches separating them.
"I don't believe we've met, Emanuel said softly.
"Haven, Mrs. Muriel Haven," the woman replied. "My husband..."
"Is the noted heart surgeon," Emanuel said, finishing Muriel's sentence for her.
"Yes ... you seem to be in excellent condition, Emanuel. Do you work out with anyone here at the club?"
"Only if you count my tennis playing," Emanuel replied.
"Oh, you're that Emanuel," Muriel said coolly.
Emanuel gave Muriel a puzzled look, and the older woman was forced to explain herself.
"I only meant that I have heard of your abilities in tennis. Why you're already considered the best woman player to come along in years."
Emanuel picked a sports bra out of her gym bag and donned it. Muriel tugged her shorts off and stood there wearing only a lace embroidered thong. Emanuel turned away to pull on a tennis skirt and then a tennis top. For all practical purposes, other than her sneakers, she was ready to play.
Muriel peeled the thong off and tossed it into the bottom of her locker as five other women stopped several feet from them and without any particular ceremony, began removing leotards and sports bras then chatted with one another like magpies in their under things and less. As they continued talking, they dressed and filmy, wired brassieres, satin panties, and thongs were much in evidence. The ladies presumably were headed out on the town after taking their leave of the country Club.
Most of the women were well endowed in the mammary area; and more than a few were candidates for breast reduction surgery. Nipple jewelry proved to be quite popular among them and downstairs, Brazilians outnumbered the bushes while several labia rings winked and twinkled here and there.
The women ranged in age from late twenties to late fifties, but most of them appeared to be in their thirties. Regardless of their ages, most of the women were in good shape, with only one or two needing to do some more work on their bellies and thighs.
Emanuel, having experienced how surreptitiously men check up women, was surprised to notice the women openly gazing at each other, appraising each other's bodies without embarrassment.
Muriel, on the other hand, now stood nude, with one foot up on a stool, rubbing a lotion onto her leg while still watching Emanuel out of the corner of her eye. It occurred to Emanuel that Muriel was the type woman who would much rather spend an hour prancing around the locker room stark naked, than actually doing any kind of exercise.
Emanuel couldn't help but hear bits and pieces of the women's conversation, which seemed to be about husbands and boyfriends, and sex, sex, sex. She overhead one pretty, petite redhead recounting that she had taken home one of the girls from purchasing the night before, as a mid-week treat for her husband. Apparently the buyer was happy to have dinner and quite a bit more. The woman the redhead was talking to, who apparently had just met her, giggled and said, "You should invite me over for dinner sometime!"
Suddenly, Muriel called out to the women, "Where's Felicia?" The redhead laughed and nonchalantly replied, "She won't be here today. The boss is boning her for lunch."
Embarrassed, Emanuel said, "It was nice meeting you, Muriel, perhaps we can play a set or two someday."
"Doubles, perhaps. With a couple of those handsome tennis pros the club keeps handy," Muriel shot back, and then smiled knowingly.
"Yes, I'd like that," Emanuel responded as she picked up her tennis kit and closed her locker.
"Join me for a drink later?" Muriel asked, as Emanuel turned and started walking away.
Emanuel looked back over her shoulder and said, "If the match doesn't take overly long, I'd love too."
Still nude, Muriel sat down on the stool and wrapped up in Emanuel's beauty, just managed to catch herself a split second before she actually touched herself. Even so, she clearly heard the redhead's scornful laugh and knew it was directed at her.
Muriel dressed, and never once glanced in the direction of the other women until ready to leave the locker room. "Give my regards to Jim, will you Brenda?" she said and as she walked past them drew satisfaction from hearing two of the other women laughing; and one saying, "She's got a lot of nerve, doesn't she?"
Brenda laughed and said, "She knows him quite well; for that matter I'm very close to her husband too."
The tennis pro Emanuel was playing with was a thirty something, single guy named Jon. He had played and lost at Wimbledon several years before and was considered to be a very good player and an even better teacher.
They had been paired up by the club's match organizer to represent the club in a county mixed doubles knock out tournament.
Jon was tall, well built, funny and witty and always seemed to have a tan. Nearly all the women, Emanuel included, thought him a potentially great lover, but at the dances and parties he always had a cracking looking, sophisticated woman on his arm, who, he reputedly told others, "Was just a friend, nothing serious." Although he flirted quite outrageously with most of the women, Emanuel had not heard of him bedding anyone at the Club.
They went one on one for a set before their opponents arrived, and polished them off, love and love in just over half an hour. They had a quick drink with their opponents before Jon stood up and readied to leave.
Emanuel felt a certain attraction to him, but tried to put it out of her mind. Her husband Karl had taught her many things sexual on their two-week long honeymoon. And watching Jon roam the court had caused a certain stirring in her loins.
Jon had noticed her watching him and since he had already bedded a number of wives belonging to the club, he assumed Emanuel was about to join the group. To make it simple for her he whispered, "I'm in number 304, if you have need of me." And then he left her sitting there.
Emanuel had another drink, although less potent than the previous one, and then said goodbye to her gracious opponents and made her way into the women's dressing room and sat down in front of her locker. She was alone in the locker room. A minute later she stood nude and was carefully tucking her sweaty garments into a small duffle bag.
As she closed the locker and prepared to take her much needed shower, Muriel entered the locker room and strode toward Emanuel.
"Hello again," she said.
"Hi, how did your exercise session go?" Emanuel inquired, noting that Muriel appeared not to have broken a sweat since she'd left the locker room.
"It went well enough. I happened by the tennis courts and saw you make short work of last year's champion."
"That was more Jon's doing than mine," Emanuel laughed, and reached into her locker for a towel.
"Mind if I join you, I really need a shower myself," Muriel chirped.
"Not at all," Emanuel replied.
"May I ask how long you've had those nipple piercings?" Muriel said.
Emanuel laughed and said, "I felt really daring on my honeymoon, and my husband took me to this charming Jamaican gentleman." She turned her body so that Muriel could examine them up close, and the older woman did so, although she resisted the temptation to reach out and touch them.
"I'm actually quite fond of them," Emanuel said, examining Muriel's breasts without the woman being aware, or perhaps not caring that she was doing so. Emanuel thought Muriel's breasts far more pendulous than her own; no doubt a product of having children who were now approaching their teens.
"It must have hurt something awful having that needle go through them."
"Hardly felt a thing. The piercer applied a lotion to them just before inserting the needle that acted as a..." she stood there groping for the right word, but couldn't find it.
Muriel rescued her, saying, "Numbed the nipples?"
"Yes, exactly. I knew the word but couldn't get it out, thank you, Muriel."
"You remembered my name, I appreciate that," Muriel said with a knowing smile.
"I'm not completely daft, Muriel."
"Of course not, I'm sorry if it seemed that way to you. It was a simple moment when something you knew wouldn't come to mind. Everyone has moments like that. I do, and on a daily basis."
"Well I can say the piercings make me feel sexy and kind of slutty all the time."
"All the time?"Muriel said and touched Emanuel's shoulder. It was the first time she had actually touched Emanuel, who shivered slightly at the touch.
Emanuel waited for Muriel to strip and dig a towel out of her locker along with a bottle of shampoo then they walked side-by-side to the women's shower.
Emanuel giggled when she saw they had the shower to themselves.
Muriel couldn't believe her good fortune in finding Emanuel a willing accomplice in what promised to be a wonderful sexual relationship. She looked over at the younger woman and ran her hand lightly up her arm, recalling her reaction to the first time she had touched her.
True to form, Emanuel shivered, this time visibly. Muriel also took note of the girl's hardened nipples, and said, "They stand out so proudly. Your husband must love playing with them."
Emanuel took a nipple in each hand and squeezed them. "It makes them hard for the longest time. I find that if I do it before going out I attract the most indecent stares from men and women alike."
Muriel noticed her nipples harden and stand out clearly ... she smiled and said, "And you relish all the attention, Emanuel?"
"Oh, yes. It's very ... stimulating."
Emanuel felt Muriel's hand on her breast. They looked at each other for a long moment, the palm of Muriel's hand rubbed against the stiffened nipple, and then with a seemingly mutual agreement, they moved closer ... closer until their parted lips met in a sweet sultry kiss. When it broke Emanuel looked around as if concerned that someone had seen them.
Muriel cooed, "Relax sweetheart ... you aren't in Iowa anymore; no one here cares what we do."
Emanuel's head was swimming ... she was supposed to be seducing Muriel and yet Muriel was the more aggressive one.
Muriel leaned over and kissed Emanuel's lips once more ... this time with a lot of tongue play by both of them. When it broke Emanuel realized Muriel's hand was resting on her mons as if debating whether or not to slip inside the silky wetness an inch or so away.
"I love your lips ... and tongue," Muriel said hoarsely.
"Oh God Muriel, I've wanted to kiss you like that since I saw you so gorgeously naked in the locker room."
Muriel moved her hand just enough to allow a finger to tease Emanuel's clit. Emanuel spread her legs to give her lover all the room she could possibly use.
Muriel expertly pinched the clit and Emanuel groaned ... Muriel smiled as Emanuel's hand cupped Muriel's full breast and tweaked the nipple. Muriel gasped with pleasure.
"This is wonderful, Muriel, but I really have to shower and run."
"But why, we're alone and just getting started?"
"I didn't know we would hit it off like this ... I have an appointment with the tennis pro, Jon something."
"Yes, that's his name," Emanuel said as she released Muriel's turgid nipple.
"I know him quite well," Muriel said before her tongue snaked out to lick Emanuel's earlobe. Emanuel laughed and gently pushed Muriel away.
"Then you'll understand why I don't want to miss the appointment."
"Let me come with you, Jon won't mind."
"Really, he won't mind?" Emanuel said, sounding somewhat pessimistic about Muriel's comment.
"I can guarantee it." Muriel said with a lewd smile.
"Then it's all right with me," and holding hands they returned to the locker room, dressed and made their way to the tennis pro's small, adobe ranch style home.
"He has the biggest cock I've ever seen," Muriel told Emanuel as they approached Jon's place. "And be warned, he's a tit man, but likes rough sex." "How rough?"
"It varies, but he won't leave any long lasting marks. You might leave his bed with a few bruises though."
"I can handle that," Emanuel said, but quivered inwardly at the thought of rough sex. It was something she and Karl had discussed, but hadn't had time to get around too.
Jon opened the door and showed no surprise at seeing Muriel accompanying Emanuel.
Ignoring Muriel, he jabbed a finger in Emanuel's face and growled, "I saw you!"
Confused, Emanuel glanced at Muriel for help in deciphering his true meaning. But Muriel offered no help whatsoever. Thinking, in for a penny, in for a pound, Emanuel took the plunge and entered Jon's home; walked over to a chair on the left side of the living room and stepped out of her heels while making a mental inventory of what she was wearing that might be damaged.
"He likes rough sex," Muriel's words, rang in her ears. She nodded to herself. Karl told me to be open to all things regarding sex. How rough could it be?
To her surprise, Emanuel found herself confronting Jon with: "Um, who did you see me with?" she was trying to keep her voice casual, but already feeling the sweet worm of fear as it began its inexorable ascent from her tailbone to the top of her spine.
"Don't play the coy princess with me," Jon spat out, "I saw how that prick, Dexter Middleton was eating you up, and you loved every minute of it."
Emanuel struggled to remember which of the other players or onlookers he was referring to, but it really didn't matter who it was. In Jon's eyes she was guilty.
Muriel chose that moment to chime in with: "Oh, she didn't think you'd notice. I heard her say, 'fuck, he's hot. I'd do him in the bushes if I could."
"Shut the fuck up!" Jon snarled and grabbed Emanuel by the back of her neck. Seconds later his cruel, warm fingers were digging into the sides of her throat. "I thought you were a horny newlywed looking for some cock while hubby's away. But you're nothing but a fucking whore, looking to get laid at every opportunity."
Emanuel had trouble accepting what was happening to her. Her instincts told her to remain silent; to learn why he was being so cruel. He knew she wanted to get laid, and she was more than willing to fuck him – why then was he accusing her of being unfaithful to him when she had willingly come to his home to fuck him?
Then it occurred to her that his very words had sent the blood rushing between her legs and made her labia swell. So this is part of what rough sex is about, she thought.
Muriel jumped in again with: "You should have seen the hard on Middleton was sporting when he got up from the bleachers. Oh, you have no idea how it made my mouth water."
"Muriel, why are you lying about?"
"Shut up, Muriel," Jon said, and shoved the older woman so hard she fell to the floor and remained there, panting.
Turning to Emanuel, he barked, "Show me your tits."
Emanuel's hand automatically went to her face, and before she could do or say anything he slapped her across the face, bringing tears to her eyes.
"Emanuel..." Muriel began, but made no attempt to get up.
"Shut up, I give the orders here," Jon said, and then turned back to Emanuel. "When I tell you to do something you do it, understand?"
"Yes sir," she said weakly, as she rubbed her cheek.
"Good. Now get those tits out. I want to inspect them."
Emanuel quickly slipped her dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. Being braless, her breasts were exposed sufficiently to satisfy Jon's demand. He motioned her closer, and she shuffled forward until she stood inches from his glaring eyes.
Cupping her breasts, she offered them to him. He surprised her by caressing the sides, tops and undersides, but avoided the nipples. He glanced over at Muriel and seemed satisfied that she had removed herself from him and his prey.
Muriel took the look to mean that she was free to move to a chair and observe. She took a seat on the far side of the room, her eyes never leaving Emanuel.
Still using tender caresses, he worked his way to Emanuel's still very tender nips and gently played with them, pay special attention to the golden barbells that passed through them.
Surprised again, this time by his gentle actions, Emanuel found she was highly aroused and breathing faster than she had while playing tennis. Images of his reputed huge cock danced in her head.
She risked a peek across the room at Muriel, hoping to garner a clue as to what might come next. But Jon caught her looking, and with no warning, pulled roughly on the nipple jewelry in her left breast. She reacted instinctively by pulling back and worsening the pain.
Just as the pain in her nipple began to subside, he smacked her across both breasts compounding the pain.
She stifled a sob then lost control and sobbed aloud, which brought another slap.
Emanuel didn't bother to object when he started removing her piercings'. Jon explained his reasoning. "I can't suck properly with metal in my mouth." Then he leaned over, took an empty nipple into his mouth and simultaneously slid a hand under her dress, running a finger all the way inside her well moistened cunt.
His powerful suction on the nipple caused Emanuel's knees to buckle, and she would have fallen had he not held her up with his free hand.
"Lean on me," he said tersely. She leaned into the shoulder opposite the hand that was fingering her cunt and sighed contentedly. He continued fingering her until her cunt began making a sloshing sound. That made him laugh, and withdrawing his finger, he held it under her nose.
Emanuel sniffed it until he pulled it away. He beckoned Muriel over to them and said, "You want her ... clean my finger of her stench."
Muriel said nothing, but quickly absorbed the finger into her mouth and tasted Emanuel's juices for the first time. She would have sucked the finger until the skin wore away leaving nothing but bone, but Jon yanked it from her mouth, laughed and told her to sit back down.
Emanuel found the courage to speak up, and said softly, "Please, fuck me like the bitch in heat that I am."
Jon snarled at her audacity to speak without being asked, and slapped her across each of her breasts several times. But by this point, Emanuel was into the pain and humiliation aspects of her seduction and merely pushed her breasts out for addition punishment.
He acted as this were normal and twisted each nipple in turn, allowing her just enough time to groan with the sudden terrific slice of pain each twist wrought before switching nipples.
As he twisted the left nipple for the fourth time, he glanced over at Muriel and said, "Do you two come as a pair, Muriel?"
"Yes and no, Jon; I'm second in line for Emanuel's charms. Have your way with her. I'll gladly take seconds."
"And you're available as well, right?"
"Yes, I am; especially for you, Jon."
He laughed, and said, "Well, you can clean her when I'm done with her." Turning to Emanuel, he said, "And you, bitch, you'll do anything I want, won't you?" Emanuel glanced at Muriel for help in responding to his question. This time Muriel helped her by nodding, and Emanuel slowly sighed then answered with a low, "Yes, I will, Jon."
"You know it's going to be mean and nasty, but you want it rough don't you?"
"Oh, yes I do," she emphatically.
"You're piercings are on the coffee table. Take a minute and put them back in." That said, he walked over to Muriel and instructed her to suck his cock while Emanuel replaced the piercings in her nipples.
Emanuel's eyes danced from her nipples to the cock in Muriel's mouth. She was amazed at its size. Karl was seven inches, he'd bragged about his length, but Jon's had to be several inches longer and it was most assuredly thicker. It will probably hurt, but it won't kill me. Muriel's had it and loved it. I've gone this far, I can finish. Karl will enjoy hearing me tell him about today when he returns. In this, Emanuel was positive, because her new husband had counseled her on having as many affairs as she felt she needed in his absences; she had only to tell him of them on his return.
Jon waited while Emanuel finished restoring the piercings to each breast, and then plucked his erection from Muriel's taut lips and strode back to Emanuel.
"Hands and knees!"
She dropped down on all fours and waited. Jon moved behind her, knelt down and reached around to her front, found the piercings and yanked them viciously.
OH, GOD!" Emanuel screamed, losing control for the first time.
Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her to her feet. "You're not ready yet.
She tried to ignore the sharp pain running through her skull, but moaned despite herself.
"Muriel, get your skinny ass over here!"
Emanuel's muscles tensed in apprehension. Her cunt ached as it throbbed, waiting. She tucked her arms beneath her breasts and clasped her hands together knowing she would instinctively try to shield her ass if she didn't; and a few angry red welts were better than a broken finger.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the slender instrument with which he would spank her.
Muriel scurried over to him and waited for further instruction.
"Smack her cunt a few times. Make sure it hurts."
Muriel didn't hesitate, and swung her hand in a wide arc landing dead center on Emanuel's cunt.
"Keep going," he barked.
Muriel began a continuous series of sharp slaps centered on Emanuel's rapidly swelling labia. Although the young girl shuddered with each blow, she managed to remain silent until Jon waved Muriel away and waved the thin stalk of cane so that it snapped just above Emanuel's derriere.
"I'll be using a cane on you, Emanuel. It leaves a welt that will continue smarting for about a week. I can tell you it will be at least two weeks before you're able to withstand another ... treatment. To do so earlier will result in scarring, and you're too beautiful to have a scarred ass, don't you agree?"
"I ... I bow to your knowledge, and thank you for the advice, Jon."
She heard the faint whistle of the cane as he brought it to bear on her buttocks with a loud, "Thwack!"
The first blow felt like a kiss of white-hot barbed wire. A large red welt popped up immediately. At first, Emanuel was shocked, and then the pain bloomed like fireworks in a dark sky. It seemed an eternity between the impact and her ability to scream in response.
After the third blow of the cane her mind, her entire universe was awash with pain. Emanuel was unable to determine where the succeeding blows landed, or how many there were. The only thoughts she was capable of were of dread in that the following blow will tear her apart, and the exquisite blanket of stillness that slides over her after she screams.
As Jon continued whipping Emanuel, the welts seemed to merge into one huge hunk of raw meat. During the course of the whipping Emanuel begged for mercy three or four times, of course her pleas were ignored. When he finally stopped, her ass was bleeding profusely. Very slowly, Emanuel's body went limp. Her cramped fingers relaxed, and eventually she stopped screaming; then huge gulping sobs took over.
"You took that very well, Emanuel, my sweet," Jon told her, and she loved him for saying it. "Get me some ice," Jon told Muriel, who ran to the refrigerator, scooped a handful of ice into a paper napkin she found on the counter and ran back to him. Taking one cube at a time, Jon lightly applied it to her wounds until it melted, and then he found another ice cube and did the same thing until it too melted.
The ice in and of itself did nothing to heal her wounds, but they did allay some of the pain and for that Emanuel was grateful.
"Get that bloody ass into the shower," he barked, and Emanuel, assisted by Muriel, limped into the bathroom and entered the shower as quickly as possible only to find that Jon had followed her and was soon urinating on her already damaged ass.
"Normally, I'd have you open your mouth for this, but I'm wondering if the piss adds to the pain. Does it?"
Emanuel nodded, because in fact, it did. The acid in his urine quickly raised the threshold of her pain twofold. A mewling sound came from her throat.
"What?" he asked, curious as to what she might have to say.
She tried again, and he understood her to say, "Hurts."
"Does it hurt?"
She nodded, unable to speak because of the pain. Behind him she saw Muriel standing in the doorway, an expression of intense sadness on her face.
Poor Muriel, she thought, she probably feels worse than I do.