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Rosemary's Martyrdom (Martin Hughes)


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Rosemary slowly drifted awake in her down-soft bed. She stretched luxuriously, yawning, toes clenched, arms stiff above her head, fingers interlinked. She was feeling good, with good reason. She was going to see her lover, Clive, today.

She was possessed by a deeply contented, warm feeling, secure in the knowledge that all her worldly needs and wants would always be taken care of by her husband, Donald, whilst unknown to him, the physical excitement and lust which she also needed in her life, and which Donald did not fully supply, was provided by Clive - and never the twain would meet.

Clive gave her the freedom to play the `games` she so yearned for and little did Rosemary realise those games would soon lead to her downfall, until one day a parcel arrived that threatened to destroy her cosy, comfortable, two-timing life. The only question was, would she do whatever it took, no matter how painful and demeaning, to keep her sordid secret from Donald, her husband, or would the truth come out...

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 11 / 2010

Also Available in Paperback - Click Here

No. words: 43600

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Fem Dom - F/F

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

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Clive had taken her to her favourite restaurant, San Martino in Chelsea, and had encouraged her to drink more wine than usual with her trout. She was anxious to be alone with him. At their normal corner table Rosemary was able to rub her foot and knee up and down the length of Clive's leg without anyone being aware. His knee gently slid forward and she trapped it between her own thighs, squeezing gently.
Irritatingly for Rosemary, Clive seemed more interested in her doing him a little favour than he was in her attentions. It seemed a friend of his was working on a university thesis and this would be helped by sight of some papers from Donald's firm - some project or other that Clive knew the firm was engaged in. It was wrong, a part of Rosemary's drink-relaxed mind knew that, but Clive was persistent. He knew exactly where the papers would be in Donald's large wall-safe in his study and he would use the copier so that the papers could be replaced in minutes without anyone being aware. It was harmless, but would do his friend a big favour.
Rosemary had as usual helped with the expensive bill. In fact, as was her habit, she paid the majority of it. She knew Clive didn't have too much money but that wasn't a problem, Donald always topped up her considerable weekly spending allowance upon request and without question.
They paid up and took a cab back to Rosemary's house. On the back seat, Rosemary pressed her breasts against Clive's shoulder, poking her tongue delicately in his ear as she whispered in a low soft voice how she wanted to get his clothes off when they reached her house.
But Clive insisted that they get the matter of the thesis out of the way first and suggested that Rosemary opened the safe and then went to have a bath, where he would join her after he'd attended to the copying. Minor alarm bells jangled in Rosemary's brain, but this was Clive. This was someone who, although he dominated her, would never do her any harm or rob her. Anyway, only Donald's office papers were in the outer safe and their money was locked away in another, smaller, safe. Stuffy old office papers, it could do no harm for Clive to take his damn copies if the sight of some stupid old papers inspired his friend enough to help him through university.
Although Rosemary stood with her back to Clive as she dialled the combination, she could never have envisaged the camcorder (one of several bought secretly by Clive with Rosemary's own money) filming silently, recording everything. Or indeed the dusky maid, Angelica, taking still shots with an expensive camera. The camera never lies and these two intrusions faithfully showed Rosemary opening the safe and handing several bundles of files over for Clive to sort through and copy. It didn't miss Rosemary pressing her loins against Clive, her hands in his back pockets, pulling him against her as he stood impassive, Rosemary kissing his neck, raising one of her legs as she kissed him deeply before leaving the room to go upstairs.
The cameras, or the finally edited videos, did not show Clive and Angelica sorting through the files, extracting the ones marked Confidential and copying them. Nor did it show Clive unexpectedly finding a diary in the safe which recorded deals and payments which Donald really should never have committed to paper.
Rosemary relaxed, luxuriating in her scented bath, the effects of the alcohol gradually trickling from her senses with the perspiration which popped from her satin skin. She gradually became aware that Clive had been downstairs for nearly an hour. Reluctantly she stood up, water cascading from her scrubbed pink nudity. Drying herself briefly, she found a white towelling robe, pulled it on. Just as she reached the bathroom door, it opened.
Clive stood there. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said in the 'official' accent he used for his 'games'. "I have reason to believe you have a banned substances about your person and I must give you a complete body search."
"Please, you cannot do that, I'm a respectable married woman, responded Rosemary, joining in with the game they often played. She loved Clive's dominating ways with her, loved playing the submissive role. It contrasted with the reality of her position in life which her marriage to Donald gave her. She could just lie back and be told what to do within the safe environment of her home and marriage. No decisions to be made or questions asked. A creature of fortune being turned this way and that by the vagaries of life. No control, no responsibilities or blame.
"Out of the bathroom, hands on your head, please, open your mouth wide."
Rosemary complied, her gown gaping open to reveal most of her breasts, small and conical, with hard pink tips. Clive's fingers pushed gently inside her mouth, exploring.
"Tongue out, please, as far as you can."
Feeling slightly silly, Rosemary extended her tongue. Clive's fingers cupped it, slid suggestively up and down it. Then he brought his mouth down nearly to hers, his tongue briefly darting out to touch hers and then withdrew. Rosemary leaned forward slightly.
"Keep quite still, no moving at all." His hands were now softly probing her ears, they were bright red as he stroked over the small lobes. The knowing hands were now on the nape of her neck, under the hairline. Rosemary trembled and shuddered, the fingers felt as if they were charged with electricity.
"Remove the gown, please."
Rosemary undid the sash and let her covering drop in a white puddle at her feet to reveal her splendid nudity.
"Spread-eagle against a wall please, arms and legs straight, feet away from the wall."
Rosemary closed her eyes and shuddered in delicious anticipation as she heard the rustle of clothing. Suddenly Clive was right behind her, naked, she could feel the male hardness of him brushing the globes of her buttocks. She began to move.
"Keep quite still or I'll stop." A deep sigh of frustration as Rosemary resumed her unmoving position as a nude marble statue.
Strong muscular hands and arms sliding over her, cupping her breasts, over her flat stomach to delve in the soft down below. Between the warm wetness of her spread thighs making her gyrate involuntarily and squirm, then up inside her as the hot rigid pole of his manhood slid between the cleft of her buttocks. A slap on her buttock cheeks.
"Hands and knees, legs wide." He was going to take her doggy fashion again.
As Rosemary knelt, fully stretched, Clive's stomach slapped against her buttocks, his hands squeezing her small breasts, covering them almost completely, his manhood pumping into her; she was totally unaware, probably wouldn't have cared at that moment anyway, that another concealed video camera was purring away again.
The initially tender hand on her soft swaying breasts suddenly became, at Clive's whim, two cruel pincers. Rosemary gasped, eyes screwed shut, and went rigid as a strong forefinger and thumb gripped tightly and stretched each tender breast and nipple. Clive luxuriated in the exquisite feel of Rosemary's soft buttocks clenching with pain, her vagina gripping his root as she tensed.
Clive whispered in her ear.
"Every time I pump into you I want to hear you say 'Thank you sir, fuck me harder please' and I want to hear you say it loud and clear. If you get a bit carried away or forget to say it, you can expect these little rosebuds to become very sore, I'm afraid. You understand?"
In her mixture of pain and pleasure, Rosemary could only nod her tousled head but the pincers pulled her orbs again so that Rosemary threw her head back. Clive's mouth descended to her ear again.
"Tell me you understand - a nice loud firm voice - forget you're kneeling on the floor like an animal. Then we will begin, and you will get your reward."
"I - I understand." Rosemary spoke as clearly as she could under the circumstances, fists clenched into balls on the floor. She was struggling to forget the ghastly pinching and pulling on her nipples whilst also trying to focus on the wonderful throbbing rod buried in her womanhood - the rod she craved and which she wanted to slide, thrust and pulse within her.
She sighed with relief and pleasure; the horrible grip slackened on her buds of love and the piston began moving within her, sliding out until it barely tickled her outer lips and then pushing back right into her smooth passage until his groin tickled the rounded cheeks of her bottom. Then the beginning of a pinch on her nipples reminded Rosemary of her obligation, her duty, if she was to receive pleasure and avoid pain.
"Thank you, sir, fuck me harder, please." Rosemary managed to perform the ritual and was rewarded by another stroke.
"Thank you, sir, fuck me harder, please."

Author Information

Martin Hughes has published dozens of bestselling novels of capture and B/D humiliation. His stories are strong and relentless.


Publisher Information

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