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Red Delusion

A woman explores her sexuality in a dangerously addictive and submissive manner...

It's snowing again...

The throb from her ankle drew her attention away from the half-written page. Sitting on her bed cross-legged and nude, and facing the freshly stoked fire across the room, Deb massaged the joint while inspecting the newest rope burns and interwoven shades of purples, yellows, and blues. She flinched with the recollection of how she got marked. It was another rough night. The married mother of two adjusted her glasses, and then admired the juxtaposed tranquility of the floating snow before returning to her notepad.


Oh Jeff, you should see it. Not a whisper of wind. Big, white fluffy flakes. There are so many that it’s like living in a snow globe. It's breathtaking, just the way we like it.

Remember when we used to see who could catch the most snowflakes on their tongue? First person to ten decided on dinner. Remember that? We never called you on it, but the girls and I thought you cheated. You seemed to always get your way. But I never complained. I enjoyed going out instead of cooking.


Deb adjusted herself on one of her mother-in-law’s handiworks, the patchwork quilt covering their four-poster, king-sized bed. It was truly appreciated on the coldest of nights. Deb extended her legs and brought them together so the soft, smooth soles of her feet were warmed by the crackling fire in the river rock-faced, wood burning fireplace that the previous owners had designed. They had contracted the construction of the beautiful log cabin home, their forever home, only to mysteriously disappear several months after having moved in. That sometimes happens, town folk said, in remote places such as the higher elevations of the rugged Rocky Mountains.

Call it luck or fate or whatever, but Jeff and Deb were the first and only clients to see the home once it was listed for resale by the previous owner’s children. Jeff and Deb kept in contact with, and ultimately befriended their realtor, Marcus Matthews. Once they took possession, Jeff and Deb never again heard from those children, nor were the bodies of their parents ever found. Sadly, but understandable, with the forest teaming with scavengers and wildlife, everyone presumed to know why. Maybe, someday, a femur or skull would be happened upon by some wayward hikers, offering the family some disjointed attempt at closure.

After finding a more comfortable writing position, Deb placed the note pad on her lap and reached for her tea. She sipped from her locally made, handcrafted mug, cherishing the orange and ginger spice aroma before returning it to her nightstand. She had more to say, much more, but it was almost time.


The girls were asking about you the other day. I still don't know how to tell them, or what, but I will. I’ll think of something. They’re such good kids. Grizz was sniffing around for you too. Being a Burnese Mountain Dog, we’d expect him to love it up here, and he does. He really enjoys the snow. The other day on one of his walkabouts, he found the biggest bone I’ve ever seen. It must have been from the leg of an elk or moose. Damn dog tried to bring it in the house too.

Oh my God, Jeff! You should see it snowing now! I'd bet we get a foot of powder before it's done. I may have to go skiing later. Did I tell you he calls me his little snowflake?

Love Always,



It was now time.

Deb set aside her notepad and pen, and cautiously straddled the sleeping man beside her. She noticed another bruise and rope burn on her left wrist that matched the pattern around her ankle. He could be a beast when he wanted, she thought. That wrist burn she remembered, and the thought of how she got it caused her juices to flow.

She applied her build up of wetness along the length of his flaccid cock, eager but careful to wake it before him. She wanted his hardness inside her when his dark eyes opened, and definitely before his alarm rang.

When the bells did mercilessly chime, she leaned forward to turn off the alarm, and greeted her groggy bedfellow with a tender kiss. "Good morning," she said while slowly rocking her stuffed pelvis as she continued kissing his face and neck. "Did you sleep well?" She asked Marcus Matthews that every morning. And every morning they fucked like rabbits to start the day, and every night to end it.

After their quick but energetic morning bunny romp, Marc hopped into the shower. Deb waited for the water to start before she curled her fingers inside, coaxing out some of their freshly made lover’s mix. She smeared it over blank sections of the lined paper, careful not to smudge her words, marking the letter with their combined sexual scent. She carefully folded the paper into thirds, ensuring the creases were crisp, placed it into a plain white envelope, moistened the glue with more sex, and then sealed the envelope.

Deb confirmed the date on her phone and wrote December 6, 2017 in bright red ink on the front side of the envelope. She added more scent to the envelope and then put it in the shoe box where she had put all of the other letters. She placed the lid on the box and placed the shoebox on the top shelf in her closet, between her Kentucky Derby hat box and her four inch ebony with red sole Jimmy Choo’s. She had never been to, or ever expected to go to, Kentucky. She didn't even like horse racing. Nor would she ever wear those spikes in public. They both were gifts. She couldn't very well toss them. That would send the wrong message, saying that she was ungrateful and disrespectful. However, he did like playing his games, so she had to keep them.

Deb usually waited for Marc to finish showering and exit the bathroom, before she showered. After their sex, he said he was in the mood for Mini Wheats and fresh fruit - grapefruit, mango, raspberries, peaches, and blueberries. To her, it seemed like a conflicting arrangement of tart and sweet, but that was him. He liked different. He liked conflict. She did her best to please him in every way, especially in the kitchen and bedroom. It had been proven to be better than the alternative. Deb ensured she always had a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables, and several different cereals. His appetite was predictable but as varied as his sexual inclinations. She learned that she had to be ready for both at all times.

Deb would also usually eat after she showered, and would usually prepare everything for him while he showered. That was their routine. This morning, she also made the chocolate macadamia nut coffee that he enjoyed. Direct from Hawaii. The brewing aroma reminded her of touring one of the Kona plantations when she and Jeff honeymooned in Hawaii.

Marc only needed to add milk to his bowl, and pour and treat his coffee. His favorite mug, which was also her husband's matching mug to hers, was warmed and waiting for him next to a three-quarter full glass of freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice. She thought this was another contradiction. He loved sugar, lots of it, and whipping crème, not half-and-half or creamer, in his coffee, but he also loved the sour bite of a grapefruit. She never asked. She only did. By the time Deb finished showering and got dressed, Marc had eaten and left. Not all mornings were like this, but it grew to be most of them.

While eating, Deb’s mind wandered to the shoe box. She had a sudden urge to look inside. She knew she shouldn’t so she never did. Deb ignored that silly thought and went about her day, running errands and cleaning the house. Marc demanded a clean home, so she was thorough with her daily washing and wiping, and dusting and vacuuming. When she bumped the basement door with the vacuum cleaner, she stopped and turned it off. She thought she had heard something, listened, but heard nothing, so she continued cleaning. Their chalet-style cabin was like that. The sculpted logs constantly settled and creaked, requiring periodic seasonal adjustment. Such is a log home. If one wasn’t careful, one might go crazy chasing every noise.

While washing the breakfast dishes, Deb thought about dinner and what to make for him, and as usual, wondered what he would do to mark her that night. It was always something, but not always something different. She enjoyed the anticipation while being left alone each day with her drip-inducing thoughts. Deb then remembered and rubbed the side of her neck, running her fingertips over the jagged finger nail indents in her skin, and the abrasions that he had left for her there too.

≈ ≈ ≈

December 7, 2017

For a change, Deb wrote on the envelope first. She didn't know why. She just felt like doing it. Just like the attack on Pearl Harbor seventy-six years ago this day, maybe it was the start of something big. She didn’t know why but did it anyway. She set the dated envelope aside and began to write.


Dearest Jeffrey,

Wow. I haven’t started like that for a while. I hope you don’t mind.

I was right. The weatherman said we got a little over twelve inches of snow. Up here, I'd say we got more, but why argue with the weatherman? He doesn’t measure how much snow we get at our elevation. Maybe I should invite him to do so some day.

The snow is so beautiful. The ice crystals are sparkling like diamonds in this morning’s sun. There is nothing like a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow, right? I can’t even see a single animal track yet. Not even one from Grizz.

Oh. I used the snow blower yesterday! Yes, me! Can you believe it? Don't worry, I didn't damage it. I cleared the driveway and part of the sidewalk with it. I shoveled the rest. I’ll have to do it all over again today. We’re expecting more snow. All the trees are covered too. Our yard is postcard picture perfect. You should see it. I have an urge to grab my camera, get out the snow shoes, and after Marc leaves, go on a picture-hunt hike. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go skiing. As much as I love powder, I never could work it as well as you, could I?

Jeff, I think Marc loves me. He hasn't said it yet, but I feel it. I thought he might say it last night. I'm thinking of telling him how I feel too, but I’m a bit afraid to. Sometimes when I’m around him I get so nervous that I think I'll puke. It's so silly. I know, I know. But he makes me feel so giddy and alive!

Last night. Oh my God. I don't know what got into him, but he seemed to want to fuck me for hours. I certainly didn’t mind. Right now I'm sitting on our bed naked, as you know I like to do each morning, and I can still feel his cock rubbing against my insides. He just fucked and fucked and came, and came again. It was a good night for me too.

I felt used, like an unpaid whore. He filled me with everything he had. It was so fucking hot! Marc makes me hornier and wetter than any man ever has, and to say I'm a bit sore this morning is a huge understatement. The poor guy must have had a rough day at work.


Deb felt her juices flowing again so she tasted herself. This too had become routine. Telling stories and getting outrageously horny. She never wanted someone inside as much as she wanted Marc. She had become addicted to his cock, and what it did to her, just as her husband had said. She at first scoffed at the notion, saying, “The realtor, really?” but now couldn’t imagine it any other way.


I made your favorite for him last night - pork chops in mushroom sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, baby sweet peas, and peaches and cream corn. I think there were some leftovers, but not much. Marc was famished when he got home. He's a big man with an appetite to match. And you know the saying, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?

It's almost time to wake Marc. I don’t call him Marcus anymore. Only Marc. He’s even considering changing it on his business cards and his listing signs.

I'm going to surprise him this morning with a blowjob. Actually, it's not such a big surprise because I'm doing it out of necessity. I need to rest my lady parts so they’ll be ready for him tonight. I think I'll soak in a hot bath after he leaves.

Oh Shit! Better yet!

I'll sit in our hot tub today. I haven't done that by myself for a while. I’m so glad I listened to you and we got it. Marc and I have spent many days and nights in there. We’ve splashed out more than our share of hot water, if you know what I mean. The first time he held my head underwater was scary, it always is, but my orgasms in there are out of this world.

I won't ever forget the first time he did that to me. I had straddled him as he sat in the corner. He started rubbing my clit while I moved on his cock when he grabbed my throat. As expected, it startled me. He squeezed with his big hand and my eyes felt like they would pop out of my skull. I struggled to breath, gasping for air as he pressed the heel of his palm against my windpipe. I didn’t realize that while he played with my clit, he was also slowly lowering me into the water. I was more concerned with my restricted air intake.

As his rubbing edged me closer, he let the water wash against my face before telling me to hold my breath. He then plunged and held my head under. Jeff, I panicked. He’s so much bigger and stronger than me and I couldn’t stop him. I was on his cock, so my legs were bent, I had no leverage, and I was already short of breath. I had no fight in me to escape. He held me under for a long time. I couldn’t breathe. He had removed my glasses so I couldn't see either. Marc fucked me hard. That was the only thing I felt. His thumb on my kitty and his big cock repeatedly splitting me in two. I knew I couldn’t hold my breath much longer when surprisingly, my orgasm hit. Holy Fuck! It hit me hard. I got dizzy and felt that was the end. That’s when he brought me to the surface, gasping for air while having one of the most intense orgasms of my life. I soon learned to expect that with him.


I think I’ll also finger his ass this morning. It drives him crazy. You never liked it that much, did you? I'll hold him in my throat while rubbing his prostate. I swear that bump is more sensitive than my clit. I've never heard a man moan so much.

Jeff, can I tell you something? It’s kind of embarrassing.

When Marc came in my mouth, I almost always choked. I did all the time in the beginning, remember? His cum was so thick and salty, and there was so damn much of it. I was shocked how much he produced. He sure does nut a lot. That still makes me laugh. Nut. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d say stuff like that. Nut. Who the hell have I become?

Eventually, I got used to it. And if I recall correctly, once I could finally deep throat him, that's when he bought me those damn shoes. However, I can’t remember when he bought me the hat but it was for that southern plantation thing he likes to do. He calls me Scarlett. “I’m gunna breed the white out of you, Scarlett,” he says. So fun.

I never had the heart to tell him the shoes hurt my feet. Even though I have smallish feet, I did have a shoe guy work his magic so the heels don't hurt as much. They’re actually very beautiful shoes. The man does love to fuck me when I'm wearing them too. AND those damn fishnet stockings you bought me for Marc’s and my first time. Oh boy! He thanks you every time he sees me wear them.

Well, I should go. Time to blow. LOL.

Love Always,



She set the letter on the predated plain white envelope and crawled under the covers. But before she started, she turned off his alarm so they wouldn’t be interrupted. This time, Deb didn't gag. She rarely did now, and she swallowed every salty drop. It was another successful awakening and another exceptional load. To her joy and his approval, Deb also accessed his tight, knuckled ass, filling their bedroom with morning echoes of his loud grunts and releasing groans.

As usual, after Marc left their bed, Deb scent-marked and folded her letter, and again sealed and scented the pre-dated plain white envelope. She placed it in the same shoe box, put the lid on, and set it next to her tea. It was now her turn.

While sitting upright and facing the fireplace, Deb tore a strip of duct tape from the roll she was instructed to keep in her night stand, and secured it over her mouth. She then spread her legs, held her breath, and curled her fingers inside. She frantically rubbed herself, with both hands, inside and out, to the thought of Marc's leather belt around her neck and his dark cock pumping inside her. This setup always brought her quickly to the edge. When there, she pinched closed her nose, completely cutting off her supply. She now masturbated herself with extreme discipline. When her orgasm struck, she squeezed her nose as long as she could until she collapsed to her side, trembling from the dizzying euphoria while wheezing for precious air through her flared nostrils. This performance never took long.

As she placed the shoe box between the hat box and heels, she recalled another first, the first time she kissed Marc. It was so much more than just a kiss. It was at the foot of their bed. That was a night of nights, she thought. It was the beginning. Their beginning, thanks to her husband. It was all Jeff’s idea. His dream. His fantasy. A dream and fantasy that eventually became her reality. Never had she been taken like that, by anyone, not even her husband. Their kiss was a date, just like the attack on Pearl Harbor, which one never forgets.

She considered writing about that kiss, but then heard the shower stop. She gently ripped off the duct tape and hurried to the kitchen to prepare his scrambled eggs, generously salted and peppered, whole grain toast, lightly buttered, and more of the same fruit and more of the same coffee, but no juice. This day, she ate breakfast with Marc before she showered. She told him her plans of the hot tub and her recovery reasons, and maybe a snowshoe hike on the property. He approved of both.

When Deb finished showering, she had that thought again about their first kiss. She wondered why the thought returned. Yes, it was a pivotal moment in her sexual awakening. It had meaning and that moment, on occasion, visited her now and again, but not like it did this morning. She knew that if she didn't write something about it, that thought would linger and dominate her day and night. So as not to be distracted later than evening, she did what she knew she had to do. Still naked, but now with a white towel wrapped around her hair, she grabbed the pad of paper, sat on her bed, crossed her legs, faced the warm fire, and played with her pussy while she began to write.


Dear Jeff,

Do you remember my first time with Marc? The kiss? The blowjob? I do love sucking that black dick of his. It still makes me nervous. It's so dark and mysterious, just like him. I don’t know why. I’ve seen it a thousand times. I love the smell and I love the contrast, especially when I hold it. White on black. Dark against light. Good versus evil? LOL.

I know, it’s just a penis, but DAMN, it’s a fucking magnificent penis. Remember how much it scared me the first time I saw it? It just seems so silly now. I remember telling him how nervous I was. He said he knew. Attempting to comfort me with that soothing baritone whisper of his, he said, "We'll go slowly." Slowly, my ass! As soon as he could, he took that too! I couldn’t sit for days. But Babe, I remember that kiss like it was yesterday.

We stood facing one another. He placed the palm of his hand against my cheek, first rubbing the tip of my nose, then my lips, with a gentle, swiping motion from his thumb. I closed my eyes and focused on the decadent comfort of his velvety touch, absorbing his warmth and energy. He exuded sex. Our size difference frightened me. He could do anything he wanted, but I trusted your judgment.

I remember thinking that Marc was a beast. The first time we discussed this arrangement with him, I could tell he wanted to fuck my brains out. I felt it in my bones. And he did, didn’t he? And I did, didn’t I? LOL.


Deb shifted for more comfort and took another sip of her cooling tea while again admiring the sparkle of the snow’s ice crystals. It was another beautiful, blue sky day, but that would change quickly. She glanced at the live edge, knotty pine fireplace mantle and smiled in thought while seeing her reflection in the television screen mounted above.


I distinctly recall allowing myself to get lost in his dark eyes. At first, I was going to resist. When the time came, I was scared. I had this impulse that I should just get it over with. It began to feel like a mistake. I didn’t want to feel anything, but surprisingly, once we started, I did.

I brought my hand against his, as he let his thumb rest between my lips. He pressed it against them, so I moistened my lips, accidentally touching him with the tip of my tongue. I didn’t mean it to be, but Marc took that as a signal. His thumb then pried apart my lips. He forced in his thumb, so I wrapped my wet lips around it. I knew what he was doing. I wanted the same thing. The symbolism of that act was not lost on me.

I swirled my tongue around his knuckle before sucking him deeply into my mouth. I felt my cheeks collapse. Marc then traced one of my cheek bones as I sucked. Fuck! It was so erotic.

My panties were soaked. I remember I could smell what he was doing to me. My spaghetti strap red dress acted like a chimney. He must have been able to too. His other hand stroked my hair, as if in appreciation, or at least, that’s what it felt like. I suspected he would do the same when I took his cock into my mouth.

"Just like that," he said. "Relax and enjoy it."

He pulled his glistening thumb from my mouth and covered my pouty lips with the dripping saliva, like he was applying lipstick. I motioned to take his thumb in my mouth again, but Marc moved his hand further back on my head and cupped my hair.

Before our lips touched, I saw my reflection in the black of his pupils. I looked pretty, I thought. I hadn’t felt that way in a very, very long time. Marc holding me the way he did made me feel wanted. I then felt an electrical charge course through my body. My nipples hardened and I felt a warm energy between my legs. My labia tingled and it was like my clit got an erection. Oh my God, did I just write that? LOL.

He was gentle, at first, keeping his mouth closed, letting his lips map their way, familiarizing themselves with my mouth. I opened my mouth first, releasing my tongue in search of his. He teased with his tongue, playing with me, like a cat does with a dying mouse, testing my desire. By then, I was so fucking horny that I was ready to devour him. My tongue ran back and forth looking for an opening, and then found it, and our tongues touched. His was hot. That was an odd thing I noticed. Hot, and it felt much larger than yours or mine. For some bizarre reason, the thought of his large, hot tongue really excited me. I then sucked that man’s tongue. I sucked it like I planned to suck his cock.

As my breasts pressed against his hard body and my nipples dug into his chest, I felt the hardened shape in his dress pants. Its intention to penetrate was unmistakable. My kissing became frantic with urgency. Certainly much more aggressive than you or I were accustomed too. I too was becoming a wild beast. I needed to fuck. My body begged for his cock. My breathing became heated and my tongue moved faster. I became lost in that moment, the moment that you had created for us.

Marc’s hands slid onto my hips, gripping them hard, and he pulled me in tight. There was no mistaking it now. I could feel his hard cock against my belly. It was huge. I tried gauging its size. It felt like a garden cucumber. His hands moved again, and I didn’t stop them. I felt his fingers clawing the fabric on my ass, pulling up my dress, and soon had it bunched in his hands. I felt a breeze over the exposed skin on the back of my thighs. It was that area between where the band of my fishnet stockings ended and the curve of my ass cheeks began.

I then moaned. It was my first with Marc. It actually embarrassed me. I was always a quiet lover with you. Maybe my silence developed from all the sneaking around when we were young. Maybe it was so we didn't wake the kids. I just never thought much about making noise in bed. Regardless, my moan did not go unnoticed. Marc asked if I was okay, almost as if requesting permission. I, of course, said I was. He had me so hot. Jeff, I wanted him inside me so badly.

I felt his two large hands cupping my insecurely large ass. Sure, having kids helped fill out my shape. Sure, I was a bit plumper than I wanted to be. Sure, I was sensitive about it. But in his hands, I no longer felt those insecurities. I felt wanted. I felt his hunger for me. Jeff, I felt fucking sexy and I wanted to be taken.

Marc then picked me up, something no one had ever done before. I remember looking at him wondering what the hell he was doing. I then realized that I was literally something malleable in his hands. I was putty. I was his play thing. He just proved it by effortlessly lifting me off of my feet.

I wrapped my arms around his flared neck and wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, locking my ankles in the small of his back. Silly me. I was worried he was going to drop me so I held on tight. I started kissing the side of his neck when his exploring fingers reached the waist band of my panties, just above the start of the crack of my ass. The further his fingers traveled along my panties, and the closer they got to my bum hole, the less control I had over my teeth and tongue. Jeff, I lost it. I started biting him. I even heard myself growl. Oh God! When Marc pressed my panties against the bumpy ridges of my back door, I bit his earlobe. Not off, like Mike Tyson did, but I bit him. I latched on to his ear as his finger gently rubbed and circled my asshole. I went wild.

My tongue now darted in and around his ear. My body clenched and squeezed my crotch against him. I dug my heels into his muscular ass. I was grinding into his abs, unknowingly marking his white dress shirt with my soaked panties.

I wrapped my arms even more tightly around Marc’s neck, pulling my head past his, trying not to let go as well as catch my breath. Marc’s finger then left my butt and traveled along the slippery surface of my outrageously dripping cunt. Only my panties prevented skin-on-skin contact. I could have rung out my panties. My body trembled as he reached further. Then, using two of his fingers to rub beside my eager clitoris, he trapped my sweet kitty under the soaked fabric. I felt tiny vibrations as he now teased on both sides beside her.

Fuck Jeff, I knew then I would cum hard, and boy did I!

At that moment, trembling on his body, with my legs wrapped around him, the furthest thing from my mind was a safe word. I was completely focused on the orgasm I was experiencing with a new man. After some time, I finally opened my eyes. I had lost the strength in my legs, and my ankles released. Marc lowered me to the floor where I knelt at his feet and as I recovered, I stared directly at his crotch. I told him I had never done anything like that before and he said that we were just getting started.

Shit. Sorry Jeff, I rambled. Just like my Mom. Best I get in that hot tub. Damn it. My pussy has leaked all over the place. That man makes me so fucking horny!

And all that from a first kiss.

Love Always,



Safe word. Right. Deb sat back for a moment, recalling the conversation she and Jeff had before Marcus arrived that first evening.

"He's on his way," she had informed her nervous husband. Deb had messaged Marcus that he could park in the garage. She then opened the overhead door. It was going to be chilly that evening and there was room to keep his car warm, where Jeff's Porsche wasn't.

"Should we have a safe word?” Jeff blurted. “You know, just in case?" She was somewhat perturbed that he brought this up at the last minute.

"Just in case of what?" she blurted back.

Deb watched her husband as he carefully considered his wording. He probably wanted his question to reflect a potential reality and not his insecurity. However, he did not want to scare her or make her think he was having second thoughts.

"Deb, we don't know him very well. With him thinking I'm not home, he might try something you don't want to try. You might need my help."

"What I will or will not try is no longer any of your concern," she advised, sternly setting a brand new boundary in their marriage. However, she understood her husband’s anxiety so she entertained the idea. "Babe, I think I'll be fine, but as you say, just in case. Do you have a word in mind?"

Clearly, he did. She didn’t know this then, but it dominated his thoughts. He wanted to invoke it right now. He had that option too. Deb knew that. That’s how safe words work. It had to be an easy word to remember. After some research, he chose the most popular safe word he could find. All those people using it could not be wrong. It was also something she would not forget. It was Deb’s favorite color.


“Okay, red it is. Now make yourself scarce and keep quiet. Marcus just pulled into the garage.” She then kissed her husband. “I love you, Jeffrey. Thank you so much for doing this for us.”

She thought it was odd that she called him Jeffrey. Only his mother and her mother called him, Jeffrey. But Jeffrey did as he was told, and made himself scare. He retired to a safe but hidden location, so he could watch and hear everything. They hadn’t used the nanny cam for years and it was highly unlikely Marcus would notice it on their bedroom’s fireplace mantel.

Deb then returned to the present.

She prepared the letter as she always did, but dated the envelope December 8, 2017. She thought she would just not write tomorrow. However, something was wrong. The letter she had placed in the shoe box earlier that morning was still inside. Deb froze.

She sat quietly on her bed with the shoe box opened on her lap. Still naked. Towel still wrapped around her head. She stared into the fire, searching for an answer in the dancing flames. She looked at the knickknacks and pictures on the mantel, and then at the flat screen television above that. She saw her reflection staring back at her again.

Was this a test?

Maybe he just forgot?

She thought about calling Marc to ask, but knew that wasn't the wisest thing to do. Deb decided he had to have forgotten, so she acted quickly. She opened both envelopes and placed both letters in a new envelope. She then wrote December 7, 2017 on it, sealed and scented it with her freshly generated, kiss story-related juices, and placed the shoe box back on the shelf in the closet. Surely, he would remember.

Deb tossed the two used envelopes into the fire, destroying the evidence. She had strict orders. She understood and obeyed them. He could not find out that she looked. It was an accident, but she didn’t want to risk a misunderstanding. Deb wondered if something had changed. There were no warning signs. Nothing. Had she done something wrong like her girls had?

Later that morning, as she rejuvenated herself in the hot tub, it again began to snow. The weather changes quickly at these altitudes. This was the very reason Jeff had convinced Deb to flee Silicon Valley for their dream mountain retreat. Predictable unpredictability. Both of their tech careers no longer had that quality, making it easier to now work from home.

Jeff also wanted his family to enjoy the unfiltered beauty of nature. He grew up with it and pined for its return. He thought it was also a great way to spend more quality time with their girls before they left for college. Half way up a mountain and at least a hundred acres of distance in every direction away from the nearest person. That’s how Marcus sold them on the property. Actually, that’s how he also sold the first couple the land for their dream home.

Once they moved in, Jeff joked that they were so remote that even Deb’s loudest screams would never be heard. He was right. No one’s screams ever would.

≈ ≈ ≈

The next morning, after a restless night of tossing and turning, Deb awoke with one thing on her mind. As soon as she could, she opened the shoe box. She feared the worst but hoped for the best. It was gone. It was absolute and total relief. But Deb's ass was sore. He fucked her hard last night, not once, but twice, making her cum multiple times. Marc fucked her ass like a rutting elk would its cow, with the absolute intention of species-saving procreation. Did Marc want her to have his baby, she wondered.

After dinner the previous night, and a little dessert flirting, Deb craved an orgasm while Marc watched the Falcons-Saints game on Thursday Night Football. When she awoke, she was naked but on her front, not her usual side, and she was facing the fireplace. However, she was relaxed, like she had fallen asleep after the best massage one could imagine. The duct tape remained on her mouth but something was different.

Deb then noticed Marc circling the bed with that massive black dick of his bouncing off of his thighs. He climbed on the bed and straddled her ass. That’s when Deb realized that her arms and legs were bound with the nylon ropes that were tied to the four posts of their bed. Marc had also snuggly wrapped around her throat, just below her larynx, his thin leather belt.

Marc took his time, and used lots of lube, but her ass would still burn. It always did after anal sex with him. The first time he taped her mouth, she thought he did so to keep her from screaming. Maybe that was part of it, but she soon learned it was part of the play.

As Marc worked his cock into Deb’s ass, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and angrily yanked her head back. As his thrusting became more violent, he pulled back on the belt too, and Deb felt hallucinogenically lightheaded again. She began seeing things in the television above the fireplace, but she couldn’t be certain what without her glasses. Marc then yanked the belt so tightly that she felt her life escaping.

Marc relentlessly pummeled her aching ass, almost as if punishing her for masturbating while he was home. To her, it felt like that, and it sounded like she was grunting like a pig. When he fucked her ass, she made noises no one had ever heard from her before. Every deep penetration, every sweaty ball slap against her pussy, forced her to share a little more of her porcine squeal. As her first orgasm approached, and the rush of oxygen saved her fainting brain, she could have sworn that she saw her husband on the television watching the big, black man fuck her curvy white ass. She then passed out from the pure exhilaration.

When Deb woke that next morning, before she could check the shoe box, she realized that, although untied from the bed, the ropes were still attached to her ankles and wrists. The belt, albeit loosened, was still around her neck.

The newest marks were harsh. She didn’t remember a thing after thinking she had seen her husband. Marc must have untied her from the bed, and then collapsed from fucking exhaustion. That was not unusual for them either, it was the norm.

After a bathroom break and making her tea, Deb returned to her bed, careful to not yet wake Marc, and she began to write. She continued where she left off. She would tell Jeff about last night another time. She again inexplicably dated the envelope first.


December 8, 2017

Dear Jeff,

As expected, it snowed again yesterday. I was in the hot tub when it started. It made me think of when we first bought the property. I bugged you about the yard work, remember? We'd never see each other, I said. You'd never be done. By the time you cut the grass here, and chopped some wood there, you’d be back mowing again.

The metal roof must have a foot and a half of snow on it. However, with the first wind storm or warm day, I'm sure we'll have our own mini-avalanche. I'll need to use your snow blower again. Don't worry. I'll be careful with your baby. Speaking of babies, Marc loves driving your Cayenne. He said it cuts through the snow like a hot knife through butter and grips the road like it’s on rails. Those German’s sure know how to make winter driving fun.

I had thought a lot about my reaction when I’d first see Marc’s cock. I’d seen pictures, even some videos, but never one like his in person. Now sitting at his feet, I felt the smile on my face grow but hoped it wasn't embarrassingly displayed. When I released him, I was in awe. It was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful cock I’d ever seen. Thick. Dark. Soft. I felt the drool accumulating in my mouth, pooling so much that I had to swallow. I couldn’t believe a penis had become this Pavlovian to me.

You must have had a fit seeing me holding that dark, snake-like monster. It had its own pulse. When I curled my fingers around it, my hand disappeared, taking its shape. When I squeezed it, its spongy girth fought back, instantly sending blood to the pressured zones. I then feared once hard, it would not fit into my mouth, so I quickly stuffed in as much as I could.

His cock felt like a mouthful of heavy, thick-skinned warm marsh mellows, and they were expanding, fast. I loved that spongy feeling, especially knowing what it was. But it was growing too fast, like a rapidly filling water balloon. I tried, but I wasn’t yet capable or ready. There was little hope that I could keep all of it in my mouth. I gave myself an A for effort, but had to pull him out because I started choking. His cock now stood straight out from his body and I wondered how I could ever handle a monster like that.

I then felt Marc pull up on my head. He motioned for me to stand, so I did. This time, he kissed hard. He wrapped one arm around my waist, lifted me off of the floor again, and forced my legs apart. His cock reached under my dress and I could feel its heat against my belly. When he lowered me onto my back and assumed the position between my knees, my nerves hit hard again. This was happening.

He told me to lift my ass. He then pushed my dress up my past my waist and ripped off my panties. Marc said he’d go slow, but couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t hurt, and that I’d eventually get used to it. Jesus Jeff, what choice did I have? If I resisted, he could have easily overpowered me. But truth be told, I really wanted this too. My pussy was dripping like a leaky faucet that couldn’t be turned off.

He held my hands above my head, causing my bra to rub against my angry nipples. They wanted to be touched, to be pinched and twisted and pulled, but they were locked away just like your cock. That cage was your idea, not mine. However, I related somewhat to your delicious plight of forced restraint.

Marc then lowered onto me, pinning me to our bed. He did it in such a way that wasn't uncomfortable, but caused me trouble breathing. His hips now moved between my thighs and he dragged that amazing cock across my raging clit. I repeatedly begged him to put it in, but he ignored my pleas. I ached for him to be inside. I spread my legs wider and arched my pelvis, trying to trap his cock and pull him in. With each pass, I missed and ached a little more. I was ready to explode. I begged him again and again, but to no avail.

When Marc passed by the last, excruciating time, his cock parted my lips and pressed into me. I remember screaming something, then gritting my teeth as he fed my hungry cunt his meaty cock. Little by little, he stretched me open, filling my cunt, with each inch eliciting a mumble of some sort. I babbled and took deep breaths as he inched in and out, opening my body more each time. He then leaned forward and bit my throat as he pushed a lot more of his cock into me. He held me down with his teeth, holding me by the neck like a wild animal holds prey. Yes, it was that primal.

It began to hurt, so I tried to get him to release by shaking my head. Nothing. It only hurt more. My insides screamed from the stretched fullness and my throat screeched in pain, so I began kicking his ass with my heels. I told him I didn’t think I could take all of him.

"You'll be surprised what you WILL take," he said, and then he pushed the last bit of cock into me. I screamed. It hurt like hell. I kicked him hard and spewed a string of profanity that I had never used before. That was the first time he grabbed my throat.

"Can you feel this," he asked as he threw himself deep into me. I couldn’t speak so I nodded. I couldn’t believe that was his cock. I felt him in the pit of my stomach.

With one hand, he still held both my hands above my head, pressing them heavily into the mattress. With his other hand, he clutched my throat. At first, he just watched my reaction. It was fear. He then gripped me harder, with his fingers searching for the right spots on either side of my neck. When he found one or both, within seconds of restricting blood flow, I felt light headed and weak. The bed elevated and spun, and I quickly faded, like I was passing out or falling asleep drunk. When I felt my life slipping away, he lessened the pressure and I revived. He repeated this several times.

Marc then moved his thumb across my throat and slowly stroked my windpipe, probably looking for the right spot before slowly depressing it. He did and held it there until I felt my eyes burn for air. I started gasping, choking, and panicking, then pleading for oxygen. He just smiled and hushed me, while calmly enjoying the control he had over my breath.

The entire time he kept moving inside me. Stimulating me. Continuously rubbing his fat cock against my g-spot. Bringing me closer and closer to what I eventually started chasing - the ultimate climax. The Holy Grail of orgasms. Each time hopefully bigger, better, stronger, but always more dangerous. Even before I came, I felt the power of its addiction. I soon needed to experience it again and again. Marc was my new dealer and my body constantly craved for its fix.

I couldn’t moan. I couldn’t breathe. But I felt a mounting rush. It built from deep inside, like never before. With no air, I had visions. Maybe I was hallucinating. I don’t know. I thought I saw you run into the bedroom waving your arms and screaming. Just then, it struck and Marc released my throat allowing the rush of fresh air to fuel my climactic explosion. Oh my Lord, Jeff. Never had I ever cum like that before. Ever. It was the beginning of my physical addition to my orgasms. Then everything went black.

Love Always,



Deb completed her scent and waking rituals, and then with sore ass and all, went skiing. She’d also picked up a few items at the grocery store so she could make her big man a special meal. Finally, a quick stop at the liquor store for something harder than wine, but that would go well with dessert, and she’d be soon back at home. Deb navigated her Range Rover through the deep snow by 8:05, was on the chair lift by 8:25, with hopes of returning home by 1:30 pm. She would make it but would arrive to something unexpected.

≈ ≈ ≈

After her glorious morning of blue sky downhill skiing in the fresh powder that challenged Deb’s skills but blessed the nearest resort, Deb realized her phone had died. After plugging it in to charge, she noticed that she had several voice mail messages. She listened to them over her Rover’s speakers as she drove home.


Message One. Friday, December 8th. 12:30 pm.

“Hello Deborah, it's your mother, Ellen, remember me? Your father and I are worried about you. We haven't heard from you in weeks or from Jeff in almost two months. You don't return our calls. Why don’t you return our calls?

"So, Deborah. We have the tickets for Sunday’s Broncos’ game. Remember? With the weather, we drove in a day early. We're sitting outside your home but you guys aren't here. Grizz isn’t here either. That dog always greets us. Your father looked through the garage window and Jeff’s Cayenne and the girls’ car is there, but your Range Rover is gone. Are you still driving that? Maybe y’all went someplace in this new snow. Hiking? Snowshoeing? I recall you said you take Grizz for protection. Maybe that’s where you are.”

Deb listened to her mother breathe, possibly trying to catch her breath from the rapid rambling that was quintessentially her mother. She shared that quality, but with her pen. Possibly the thinner air took more of a toll than her mother could have expected.

“Oh Deb, it's so peaceful here. Dead quiet. Not a whisper of wind. Not a soul in sight. I can see why you wanted to live out here.

“Ellen, ask her where they are, for God's sake. Get to the point, woman.”

“Deborah, I think you heard your father. Call me.”

End of Message.


"Shit. Shit. Shit." Deb stepped on the gas, but she could only go as fast as all the fresh snow would allow her. The plows had only partially cleared some of the roads, and not the one leading to her property. Only hers and Marc’s vehicles left tire tracks that morning, but Deb noticed more tracks leading back to her place. She deleted the message and anxiously listened to the next one.


Message Two. Friday, December 8th. 12:45 pm.

“Deborah, it's your mother again. Your dad just remembered... “

“Damn it, Ellen! I didn't just remember!”

“Okay, Marvin. Chill. Honey, we have that key you gave us, you know, for emergencies. We’re going to let ourselves in. I hope you don't mind. It was a long drive. We drove through what seemed like ten feet of snow, half way up a mountain, and your father now has to pee. I suppose he could just find a tree.”

“I'm not pissing out here when there's a perfectly good bathroom inside.”

"You heard your father. Stubborn as ever. I do hope the security code you gave us still works. I guess we'll find out right away. Marvin? What's wrong?”

“The alarm wasn't set.”

“Deborah, your father says you guys forgot to set your alarm. I’m sure you’ll hear about that when you get home. Oh well, we’re in now. Your Dad can pee. He’ll be happy again in a few moments. We'll wait for you. Please call me. Bye for now.”

End of message.


Deb panicked. They were now inside her home.


Message Three. Friday, December 8th. 12:53 pm.

“Deborah, it's your mother again. Sweetie, we are really worried. Your home looks like you haven't lived here in months. You have, I can tell, but it's spotless. I know you both work from home but wow! It's too clean. Did you get fired? You have two kids. How is this possible? It’s too unlived-in-like, if I can say that.”

“Ellen, Shhh.”

“Marvin Jacobs, don’t you shush me.”

“Ellen, please be quiet for a moment. Listen.”

“Listen to what?”

“Shhh... listen. Do you here that? It sounds like voices or moaning or something. It's coming from downstairs. What the hell is this?”

“Deborah, why do you have a deadbolt on the basement door? That’s a fire hazard, you know. Why is the basement door locked? Marvin, do you want me to look for a key. I’m going to look for a key.”





"Shit! Ellen.There IS someone down there. Tell Deborah I'll owe her a new door jamb. I'm not looking for no fuckin’ key.”



“Did you hear that, dear? Your father just kicked in your basement door. Once a cop, always a cop, even in retirement.”

“Damn it, the lights are out. Look at the deadbolt. It's a double cylinder. It's keyed from both sides. That's not right. Ellen, shine your phone’s flashlight on the stairs.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, that's better.”

“Marvin! Is a gun really necessary?”



"Ellen, over here. The spare bedroom. Look! A light’s coming from under the door. Shit. Another fuckin’ deadbolt. I wonder if it's a double keyed lock too? Those are used to keep someone in, not let someone out. Someone's in there.


End of message. If you would like to listen to your message again, press one. If you would like to...


Stunned by what she heard, Deb paused before deleting the message and anxiously waited for the next one to begin. She tried her best to keep it between the ditches and from hitting one of the towering lodge pole pines that lined the snow covered road.


Message Four. Friday, December 8th. 1:15 pm.

“Deborah! Jesus Christ! We found Jeffrey down here. My God. What happened?

"He was tied to a chair, he's naked, and he's got some metal cage-like contraption on his genitals. He's so skinny. There's a stack of letters on a TV tray in front of him. They’re all written in your handwriting. Did someone make you write these? And the pictures of you and a black man. Jesus! The filth. The stench. Deborah! He’s been seemingly kept alive, but barely. My God, what happened here? What were you guys doing?

"And poor Jeffrey, he… he was just staring at the television. It looks like a web cam is inside your bedroom. It's focused on your bed. Your Dad thinks the camera must be positioned on the fireplace mantel in your bedroom.

"We’ve called the police, and asked for an ambulance for Jeffrey. Damn it, Deborah! It looks like Jeffrey’s been locked in here for months. My God! Where are you and the girls. Where’s that damn watch dog of yours?

"Marvin! MARVIN!!!

"Behind you!”



End of message.


Message Five. Friday, December 8th. 1:29 pm.

“Deborah! I pray to God that you and the kids are okay.

"The police just got here and another ambulance is on its way. Your father shot a man. We didn’t recognize him. It looks like the black man in the photos. We know most of your friends. He didn't look like anyone we knew. Out in the middle of the nowhere but in your home no less. He's huge, like a lineman. Maybe he's a football player, shit, I don’t know. He’s huge. Damn it! He was in your house and YOU weren’t!

"We must have startled him. He lunged at your father. Thank goodness your father still feels the need to carry his service weapon and knew how to use it. The man isn't dead, well, not that we know. Four police officers carried him outside. Ah, shit, Deborah. There’s blood everywhere.

"Oh, baby. I'm so scared for you. The police are trying to talk to both men right now, but Jeff isn't speaking. Shock or something, I guess. He’s just sitting in the cop car, like he’s in a catatonic state. The black man isn't saying much either. He was in a lot of pain as the men struggled to carrying him up stairs.

"The cops said it looks like another camera was sending video of Jeffery to your bedroom too. The television was on in your bedroom. You guys watching him, watching you? That’s disgusting, Deborah.

"Your father and I are safe in the kitchen now, in case you were wondering. I can’t believe this is happening. Wait.

"Yes. I hear the ambulance siren now. There it is coming up the hill towards your driveway. I see another vehicle behind it. It looks like… a Range Rover. Deborah, is that you? Oh please Lord, let that be you.”

End of Message.


Deb saw several cars with flashing lights in her yard, but couldn't drive faster than the ambulance in front of her. She had a lot of explaining to do, but was certain everyone would eventually calm down and understand. Reasonable minds would prevail. She was certain of that.

She pulled into the circle drive in front of her home and was greeted by a deliriously crying mother and a stern, but somewhat relieved looking father. A member of the local police department stood on guard behind them.

"Oh, thank the Lord you are safe,” cried a frantically speaking Ellen. “Where are my grandbabies?" Filth and circumstances aside, Ellen hugged her daughter harder than either of them could remember.

"They're at a friend's. My phone died. I was recharging it in the Rover and then saw your messages. Mom. Dad. I forgot you were coming. You should have called first before… "

Deb then saw a scraggly-bearded and nearly unrecognizable Jeff shivering in the back of a police car. He was wrapped in one of the patch quilts Ellen had made for them when they first got married. Deb could tell by his sunken eyes and thinned face, that he had lost a lot of weight. It looked like he had been aimlessly wandering in the woods for some time. He clearly had been neglected. He reminded her of the Unabomber.

She then saw the paramedics lifting a very bloodied and unresponsive Marc onto a stretcher. The reality of it all then turned to horror. Deb’s heart raced, pounding hard on the inside of her chest. She began shaking and her ears felt like they’d pop. Tears streamed down her face and she bolted away from her parents.

"Marc! Marc! Can you hear me? It's Deb."

She grabbed the unconscious man’s limp hand, which was handcuffed to the stretcher’s chromed railing.

"I love you, Marc! It’s your snowflake. Please Baby, please don't leave me!"

Her father unconsciously, like so many times during his career, silently recited the Miranda Rights as a brother member of the local police force handcuffed and took Marvin's only daughter into custody.

Marvin then overheard one of the police members say to another that on a perimeter search, they found two frozen bodies covered in snow in the woods behind the garage. Both were young females, mid-to-late teens, matching the description. Next to them, they found a dead dog. Asked if he could tell how they died, the member said he couldn’t, but they both had the same ligature markings on their neck as the lady they had just arrested.

Another member said that while attending to the shooting victim, the paramedics found a real estate sales contract on the shot man. It had two bullet holes in it and was covered in blood, but showed the transfer of land title from the couple to the realtor, Marc Matthews. It was dated December 7, 2017. Marvin immediately thought possible motive, but that didn't explain the half of it.

As Marvin restrained his distraught wife while she watched their confused daughter being escorted away, Deb passed by her husband in the backseat of the police car. Jeff leered at his wife, angrily screaming as he violently rocked back and forth, bouncing off of both the back of the driver’s seat and the back rest of the rear bench seat that he was sitting on.





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