Chapter 10

The shock that woke him was as though he had been dropped into the car seat from a great height. When he opened his eyes, he found himself strangely energized, in spite of the lucid details of his dream. Why had he let this man have his wife, over and over? Few husbands would have been so accommodating, so weak in the face of a wife's professed sexual encounters. How could he have brought her here a second time? Suddenly he knew what had to be done.

Neither the manicured lawn nor the marble steps under his feet weakened his resolve. He would storm this castle, confront its master, and take his wife from this place once and for all. No longer would he wait for the spoils of another man like a timid peasant resigned to gathering table scraps for sustenance.

It was more anger and desperation than epiphany that drove him through the heavy front door that opened easily against his weight. Once inside, the opulence of the house's interior was lost on him as he blindly invaded room after room, ready to claim his wife at the instant

he caught sight of her. Pausing at the sweeping stairs leading to the second story, he looked up into the darkness, listening for the slightest whisper, a single footstep, any clue that might lead him to his first and final stand against this devil, this puppet-master whose strings held his wife in an endless dance of submission.

Silence. The eerie emptiness of the house began to eat away at the confidence that had taken so long to muster, as though his wife's lover may even possess the power to take her from this world for a time, or make her invisible to anyone who might intrude.

He pressed forward, past the thickly carpeted stairs, then under the open balcony twenty feet over his head. The door before him was different then the others. Wider, made of solid hand-rubbed walnut, its very character carried a warning of what may lie inside. Imagining the overwhelming strength necessary to force it open, he placed his hand on the cold, black, iron latch, pressed downward, and felt the door swing silently inward.

Elyse hung from the scaffold, her body drenched with sweat, her legs and belly still convulsing as Simon suddenly robbed her of her orgasm. She felt his cock leave her, withdrawing as quickly as it had entered her, and she struggled to capture it again, thrusting her narrow hips at him in a futile effort to trap the hard, golden rod of flesh between her legs, to somehow will the plump cockhead back inside her hungry cunt.

In her mind's eye, the line of men before her advanced, each of them ready to take her, each somehow promising her a release of equal intensity. She saw them as bare-chested satyrs, erections wagging eagerly in the air, wet with a layer of glistening pre-cum from the long wait. The shifting shadows of the flickering fire obscured their faces, but displayed every muscle and sinew of their bodies, each slightly different, but perfect in every physical way a man's body could be imagined.

She moaned quietly as her vision became more real to her, now narrated by her own inner voice. 'All those men - all those perfect men - all of them for me. So many of them - big, hard, throbbing - so much sex - all for me - for me - all for me... '

Her body burned for them. Every nerve screamed for their touch. If only the bonds about her wrists would pull tighter, raise her off the floor, suspend her before them, her legs helplessly open, inviting invasion. She would let every last one of them have her to find what she needed, to be fucked brutally by the largest and most powerful of them, taking her body relentlessly, without feeling, fueled only by instinct-driven lust.