Julia reached over and took my hand in hers. "Let me settle up here, and we can go for a drive. You have time, don't you?" I really didn't, but telling her what I had had me dying to continue. I really didn't quite know why. I hadn't thought of this in years and suddenly it just seemed to pour out of me.

She settled with the waitress, took me by my hand, and walked me to her car, opening the door for me and closing it behind me as I slipped into the passenger seat. We rode in silence for perhaps half an hour finding ourselves on a winding country road through rolling fields when she told me simply, "Continue."

"His words surprised me," I began. "I looked at him expecting to see a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye...thinking perhaps that he had startled me. Something to show he was just teasing me. I saw nothing of the kind. He moved past me into the room, took both my hands in his, and lifted my arms over my head. Holding my wrists tightly in his left hand, he pulled my face to his with his right. and kissed me flagrantly. I struggled to little avail. When finally he broke the kiss he just stared at me. My body would have betrayed me if he could have felt what was going on inside me."

"Without moving, he softly spoke. "Are you going to behave?" I knew I was, but nothing in my demeanor would have allowed him to know. We stood facing each other coldly. Another wry smile graced his face distracting me. I felt a hard slap across my left breast followed by a backhand across my right. Tears burst from my eyes and as I glared at him his mouth clamped down on mine, his tongue pried mine open and he walked me back until I was pressed tightly against a wall. He broke the kiss, turned me around, kicked my legs apart with his left foot and cupped my cunt through my panties. I was sopping wet."

"He handled me for several minutes....my breasts and hard nipples ground into the wall...my squeals, my screams, my ever deepening moans unheard deep in the woods. "You are going to do just what I tell you," he said softly. The very softness of his voice was compelling. He released my cunt but held me against the wall. He released my hands. He slapped my bottom hard. "Now take off your panties and hand then to me."

"Whether I wanted to..whether I was afraid of being hit again...whether I just obeyed because I knew I had no choice..well, I don't think I'll ever know. I removed my panties which were sopping wet. I handed them to him. "Now get the spanking chair," he whispered.

"I returned with it from the kitchen and put it just where Lisa would have placed it. He sat down. "You know the drill," he said. "Skirt off, assume your position." Which I did, without resistance. Soon he was warming my pale bottom with his heavy right hand. When he had reduced me to a blubbering mass of tears, my clit throbbing and my juices spewing as heavily as my tears were flowing, he pushed me to the floor. "Don't make me tell you," he said and I knew I wouldn't. I rose to all fours before him as he lowered his pants and underpants to just above his knees. I removed his shoes and socks, his pants and underpants and began working on his stiff thick cock with my mouth. Eventually he filled my mouth with his viscous, acrid cum and told me to get over his knees again."

"He let me rest there for several minutes, until I felt his cock coming to life against my belly. Then the paddling began. He had found my antique, long-handled wooden hairbrush and warmed my bottom, and the rest of me, to the boiling point.. My screams, wild and feral at first, gradually gave way to pitiful whimpers. Then to deepening moans. Deep sobs wracked my breasts and tears flowed from my eyes like a spring stream. He pushed me onto the floor and I wrapped around his feet in the fetal position. He lifted me in his arms, carried me to the bedroom, stripped the rest of my clothes off of me and placed me on all fours with my feet hanging off the back of the bed. He entered me as he had always done, caressed my clit until my orgasm overwhelmed me. It seemed to last for the seeming eternity that he fucked me before filling me with his seed. I collapsed on the bed as he withdrew from me. He waited until I looked up at him...then dressed as i watched him."

"'No one will believe you if you were to tell, ' he whispered, smiling. 'But you won't tell. And you won't lock the door next Tuesday, either.' With that he left. And I lay on my bed thoroughly sated. I drifted off to sleep and he fucked me again and again and again in my dream. Each time I swore I would resist. Each time I tried. Each time he overpowered me and fucked me to sensual oblivion."

I don't know how long I had been silent before Julia spoke. "Did he come back?"

"The next Tuesday. When I heard his knock, I went to the door and told him to go away. "Please.Please, just go away," I repeated again and again. To no avail. He opened the door, pressed past me and repeated what he had done to me the week before. He left me tear-strewn, sperm seeping from my swollen cunt, whimpering as the aftershocks of a seemingly endless orgasm roiled through my belly. I finally fell to sleep only to dream of him ravishing me...in a small romantic country inn...on a hard wooden bench in a gym as others walked by...never with my express permission...but my resistance never anything but futile."

"The following Tuesday he didn't come, and I found myself beside myself."

We had reached Julia's house. She invited, perhaps insisted ,that I come in and continue my story. I told her it was just about over, and she said to me, "It's just beginning." She took me by the hand and guided me to the solarium off her living room. She seated me in a loveseat bathed by the afternoon sun and disappeared for several minutes, leaving me to my thoughts. She returned with a plate of antipasto and a neat Manhattan for each of us. We sipped our drinks and noshed on the antipasto in silence, soaking up the vanishing warmth of the afternoon sun. I have no idea how much time passed before she asked, "Did he ever return?"

"The following Tuesday I bathed, I showered, I rubbed the earthiest smelling lotion I had over every inch of my body," I giggled. "And I do mean every inch. I put on my most delicate lingerie, a skirt and blouse more appropriate for going to the theater than hanging around the house, and my favorite pair of fuck-me heels. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. I had just about given up when I heard a car on the driveway, soon followed by a quiet knock on the door. I looked at him through the door. He just stood there, saying nothing. I opened the door and let him in.

"There was to be no foreplay. 'Get the spanking chair,' was all he said. And I did. When I had placed it where it belonged he told me to remove my skirt and panties. I did as I was told. He made me strip him from the waist down and told me to get my hairbrush. He was seated when I returned with it and, after handing it to him, I took my position over his knees. He wouldn't say another word until he was leaving. The day went as each of the others had leaving me lying on the bed in the fetal position, my bottom burning, the taste of his cum on my tongue, and his sperm seeping from my ravaged cunt. "Call me if you want to see me," he said simply as he dressed and left, leaving me in a sexually charged afterglow full of thoughts and feelings I could in no way comprehend.

"For the next several weeks I waited for him every Tuesday. I couldn't call him. I couldn't admit, to him or to myself, that I wanted him to come back, to fuck me, to leave me ravaged and bewildered. He never came. As the end of summer neared Lisa called to tell me she wouldn't be returning until the spring. I had never felt so alone.

"I met Andrew in an English class we shared, Victorian erotic literature. We got into the habit of having coffee together every day after the early morning class. The subject of the course led our conversations to areas that we would never have broached in other circumstances. Our discussions began objectively, almost clinically, analyzing stories that were lewd and erotic. This had been going on for several weeks and, eventually, probably inevitably, led to us talking about our own sex lives. He was a virgin. I told him my tale, leaving out Lisa's involvement and leaving out the strange welter of emotions I had felt throughout. The strange welter of emotions I still felt. Quite frankly I embroidered. I altered the facts and circumstances. Though I didn't tell him so directly, I left him with the clear impression that my only sexual experience had been as a victim. He has always considered me a victim. I think that is what drew him to me. And I also think that that misperception is at the core of our marital problems."

Julia smiled at me. She reached her hand to mine to stop me. "Now,", she whispered, "Let me tell you just what you felt; what you knew; and what you could not allow yourself to admit."