I combed the tangles from my wet hair as I watched my naked reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror. A morning shower was a perfect way to start the day, especially a day off in the middle of the week. It was time to recoup the endless hours of overtime spent finishing up a manuscript.
No matter how hard I tried to pace my writing, it seemed I was always cramming at the end of a project and the last novel was no different. The rewrites required by the publisher seemed unending right up until the last minute. But now I had a break. No more deadlines for another month. I could breathe and relax' and maybe come up with some ideas for my next novel.
I slipped on my terry robe and walked out into the living room. The hardwood floor felt cool beneath my feet despite the warm, sunny day outside. I sat on the couch and glanced toward the front door. Something had caught my eye. Something had moved outside the screen door.
I felt a rush of panic and fear, as if I knew something bad was about to happen. I stood from the couch and walked slowly toward the door, hoping that I could lock the screen before whoever it was out there opened it.
When I reached the door, I looked outside to see a man standing off to the side of the steps. He was handsomely dressed in a suit and was remarkably good looking, almost a Tom Cruise. But inside I still felt a deep sense of fear.
"Can I help you?" I asked through the screen. Without looking at the lock, I reached down and felt for the clasp, turning it quietly to the left and locking the door.
"Yes," he said, walking up to the door. "I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time."
He reached for the door handle and tried to pull it open. Even though I had locked the door, I held onto the handle tightly. When he felt the resistance, he pulled harder. The door seemed to pull away, except for area around the lock, and at first I feared it would give. But he finally let go and stepped back.
"What do you want?" I asked, still holding onto the screen handle.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind me. "I think you should let him in."
I let out a gasp as I turned and saw another man standing a few feet away from me. He was tall and black, and dressed in a suit much like the man outside. He had come in through the back door.
"What are you doing in my house?"
"We want to talk to you," he said, walking toward me. I backed away, and he went to the screen door and opened it for his friend.
"Talk to me about what?"
The friend entered and closed the front door behind him. He had a file in his hand that he held up.
"Your tax return."
So they were from the IRS. No wonder they acted like they owned the place.
"Do you have some ID?" I asked.
They looked at each other for a moment and then laughed. "Joan wants to see some ID, Joe," said the Tom Cruise look alike.
"Gee, Mark. I don't think I brought my business cards."
Joe walked toward me and I backed up until I felt the wall behind me. He pressed his hand against the wall as if to block my escape and stared down at me.
"Would you like to see my birthmark?"
When I didn't answer, he glanced down at my cleavage beneath the robe. With his index finger, he traced a line on my chest along the lapels, making a v-shape. My breathing quickened as he continued to repeat the pattern.
"According to your tax return, you make quite a substantial income as a writer," said Mark, walking around my living room and looking at the pictures of my friends and relatives. "Joe and I read a couple of them. Pretty hot stuff."
"Mmm' mmm'" hummed Joe, making the V a little deeper in my robe and my breath a little deeper in my chest.
"Amazingly, your write-offs were also quite substantial," continued Mark. "So being the conscientious citizens that we are, we thought we would stop by and verify some of these."
"Like what?" I asked.
"I know which ones I want to see," said Joe, pushing my robe open wider. I grabbed the fabric and pulled it closed.
"Well, let's start with some of these big ticket items, shall we?" continued Mark. "Ten thousand dollars in research equipment. That one really got our curiosity going."
How could I tell them about all the restraint equipment I had bought to experience the sensations of bondage? Granted, I had enjoyed having my own private dungeon, but it was used for a novel I had written last year. I looked down at the floor and remained silent.
"Hey, I'll tell you what," whispered Joe, tugging on the tie of my robe. "You show me your equipment, and I'll show you mine."
I looked at his large, black hands and trembled at the thought of going downstairs with him. Under normal circumstances, if I had known him and had arranged the meeting, I would be eager to play with him in my dungeon. But this was wrong. This was blackmail.
"So is there research equipment?" asked Mark.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Show me." His voice was firm, like a command. He stood from the couch and Joe stepped aside to let me lead the way.
I walked toward the kitchen where a door led to the basement. I opened it and stepped aside, hoping they would go down and investigate on their own.
"After you," smiled Joe.
I led the way down the carpeted stairs. There were no overhead lights, only small, red running lights outlining the stairwell. I had designed the interior to reflect a real dungeon, with gray walls and dim lighting. The one exception was the thick, brown carpeting beneath our feet.
The room was approximately four hundred square feet and contained several pieces of bondage furniture, an armoire filled with toys and costumes, and a full-size bed in the corner.
A low whistle escaped Joe's lips as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "Well, I'll be'"
Mark grinned and pressed me to continue forward into the room. He stopped at the St. Anthony's cross bolted into the side wall. He opened the folder and looked at his notes.
"This cost you $800?" His tone was one of disbelief. "It's just a couple of four by eights."
"Well, it included installation and the leather cuffs."
"Oh well, no wonder," he laughed.
Joe walked over to the armoire and opened the doors. "Play time!" he called out, pulling a corset off the hanger. He brought it over to where I was standing and held it out. "I think you should put this on."
"Why?" I protested.
"Well, we have to make sure this is really yours. That it was used for your research." He pulled the tag back and read the label. "36C' could be you' but I just don't know."
I hesitated and he pressed it toward me again. When I took the corset, he stood behind me and held my robe as I took it off. They both stared at my naked body and watched as I quickly hooked the clasps and twisted the garment around, bending over to allow my breasts to fall in naturally when I stood back up.
"Lovely," whispered Joe, stroking his hand down my back and letting it rest on my ass cheek. "Very lovely."
Mark walked over to a padded bench and looked at the contraption with curiosity. "What is this?" he asked.
"It's called a distress horse," I explained.
He looked inside his folder at the list of deductions and shook his head. "$1200 dollars for this? It looks like a bench press."
"With restraining cuffs," I added.
"Right'" chuckled Joe, sarcastically.
"I think I remember you writing about this in that last book. Don't you Joe?"
"I don't think so." He was too busy playing with my ass to concentrate on anything else.
"Joan, come over here and show him how this works."
When I hesitated, Joe put his big arm around my waist and led me over. I sat down on the bench and leaned forward, placing my arms through the loose restraints. Although there were many positions possible on the contraption, it was the one I preferred the most. It was ideal for flogging or spanking, which under normal circumstances, were two of my favorite warm-up exercises.
Joe walked in front of the bench and stood directly in front of my face. The angle of the bench made it difficult to look up, and I found myself staring into his crotch. Without a moment's warning, he quickly locked the cuffs and restrained me.
"Hey! Unlock these!" I protested.
"I think we need to make sure you really used this equipment," replied Mark, standing behind me and running the back of his pen across the crack of my ass. Instinctively I squirmed and he laughed, letting it trail deeper between my cheeks.
Joe stepped closer to my face so that the outline of his cock pressed against my nose. I closed my eyes and tried to resist the arousal that shot through me as I felt how hard it was.
"Feel that bad boy?" he whispered. "Look what you do to him?"
Mark walked over to the armoire and brought back a couple of items to add to their games. In one hand was a vibrating dildo and the other held my favorite wooden paddle.
"You guys," I pleaded. "I think you've seen enough."
"I don't know," sighed Mark, flipping the vibrator on behind me. "This is all inconclusive evidence still, don't you think Joe?"
"Yeah, I'm afraid so," agreed Joe, grabbing my hair and rubbing my face into his trousers. "We need to verify that this stuff was really used for your work."
"Now if I remember correctly," continued Mark, rubbing the vibrating dildo along my ass and under my pussy, "you used this bench to enact a great scene in that last book."
A puddle was already forming on the vinyl bench beneath me, and the dildo slipped easily back and forth against my pussy. I squirmed and rocked against it. Quickly Mark slapped my ass with the paddle. I let out a gasp from the shock and was surprised that he had used it so effectively.
Then I remembered the scene he was referring to. In the novel, the woman was restrained in the same fashion and was not permitted to move while the vibrator slid back and forth. If she moved, she was paddled. Of course it was the combination of both that excited her.
Mark slid the vibrator back and forth beneath me again, this time inserting the tip in my pussy. I tried to move to allow more of it to enter, and he swatted my ass again.
"Ow," I hissed, unable to sit still.
"Don't be so greedy," teased Mark.
"Maybe I can distract her," suggested Joe, unzipping his pants in front of me.
He pulled an enormously large, black cock out of his pants and held it in front of my lips. I thought of the chocolate dildo a friend had given me for Valentine's Day and licked my lips in response.
Mark continued to tease me with the vibrator and paddle as Joe teased my lips with his hard cock. There was no way I could begin to take it all, but he held the shaft with his big hand and fed it to me inch by inch.
"Oh yeah, Baby' you know how to suck it too, don't you? That's right' that's right. Yeah take it a little deeper. Oh yeah, Baby. Run that tongue all over it. Shit, that's good."
He pressed it down deeper, and I knew that I was in trouble. There was no way he was going to be satisfied with a little head and there was no way I could take it all. And there was no way to get out of the restraints.
I vaguely noticed that Mark had stopped behind me and was moving around. It was taking all my concentration not to choke on the eager cock working its way further down my throat.
"Oh yeah," moaned Joe, gripping my hair tighter. "You can take it all, can't you? You like big cocks, don't you?"
I whimpered and tried to pull away, to ask for a breather, but he held my head steady. Mark was suddenly lifting my ass and sitting underneath me, impaling my wet pussy down on his hard cock. It felt good to feel his hardness inside.
But I couldn't breath. Joe was so lost in his own pleasure that he either didn't care, or didn't know that my air passage was totally restricted. It was odd to feel the combined adrenaline from such pleasure and panic at the same time. I wanted to come and I wanted to breathe. The loud groans of pleasure from Joe's orgasm were muted as I began to pass out.
I sat up in bed gasping for air and clutching the blankets on top of me. Louie sat up in bed next to me, and even in the dim moonlit room, I could see his concern.
"What's wrong?
"Oh God!" I gasped, still trying to catch my breath. "Oh man' it was a dream."
"You okay?" He gently pushed a few strands of hair away from my face and kissed my cheek.
"Yeah, I guess."
We lay back down and I spooned up in front of him. I loved the feel of our naked bodies touching. I replayed the dream over in my mind wondering where on earth the dream had come from. My body was still on fire and the puddle of wetness between my legs was no illusion.
"Did you finish our taxes yet?" I asked.
"They're done," yawned Louie. "I just need to mail them in."
"Let me look them over one more time before you send them in."
"You dreaming about taxes?" He kissed the back of my neck and I pressed my ass back against his cock. It responded in kind.
"Taxes and basements."
"Basements?" Louie draped an arm over me and started playing with a nipple.
"Yeah," I said, slipping his cock between my legs and letting it slide inside my pussy. Louie let out a moan of pleasure as he pushed it up inside of me.
"God, you're all wet. It must have been a good dream."
"Mmm'. Parts of it were promising." I pressed my ass back, taking in more of his cock. "Kind of wish we had a basement now."
"What would we do with a basement?"
"Hmm' maybe make a rec room out of it."
"This is the only rec room I need." With that statement, he flipped me over on my stomach and spread my legs wide. He kissed and bit at the back of my neck while ramming his cock deep inside. I had been so turned on by the dream that I encouraged his hard pounding. I wanted it hard and ruthless, just like in the dream.
