========================================================
    The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual 
    content and is meant to be read only by adults.  If you 
    are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by 
    this type of material, please do not read any further.
    ========================================================


"Two Women, Two Fantasies"

by DG 


    Bob Eastbrook paced impatiently around his bedroom, going over 
each step of the instructions in his head.  It felt strange to be 
home in the middle of a weekday afternoon, with the sun streaming 
into the quiet, empty house.  Finally he heard his wife's car pull 
into the driveway, and he stood cautiously at the edge of window 
and watched her get out and walk into the garage.  Corine looked 
the same as she always did, the same elegant, pretty woman he had 
been married to for ten years, but he couldn't help seeing her in 
a different light now.  You think you know someone... When he 
heard her open the back door and come into the kitchen, he tiptoed 
into position behind the bedroom door.  

    It was five long, fidgety minutes before she came upstairs.  
His erection was pressing uncomfortably against the front of his 
slacks, his palms were sweaty, and the new cologne he was wearing 
was irritating his neck.  Finally he heard her on the stairs, and 
to his relief she came straight into the bedroom, passing within 
inches of him as she brushed past the doorjamb.  

    When her back came into view he quickly moved behind her and 
slapped the strip of duct tape over her mouth.  She stiffened with 
surprise and let out a high-pitched grunt.  Before she could turn 
around, he pulled the cloth hood down over her head.  She elbowed 
him in the ribs and reached up to try to take off the hood, but he 
pushed her face-down onto the bed and secured her wrists behind 
her back with a short length of nylon cord.  

    Her instructions clearly stated that she would put up a 
realistic struggle, so he was ready when she started bucking and 
kicking violently. He sat on her back, using his weight to pin her 
on her stomach.  Working as efficiently as possible, he used 
longer lengths of cord to bind her ankles to her upper thighs, 
forcing her knees to remain bent.  She kicked back at him a few 
times, loosening the cords before they were secured, but he kept 
at it and finally managed to get everything tight.  Then he untied 
her wrists and retied each one to one of her ankles, leaving her 
in a kneeling position with her face pressed into the bed and her 
ass in the air.  She was completely helpless now, and he could 
relax a little.   

    Being careful to remain out of her sight, he removed the hood 
and replaced it with a blindfold, letting her breathe more easily.  
Bob was a very meticulous man, and before going any further he 
took the sheets of paper with their neatly-typed instructions out 
of his pocket and reviewed his progress.  So far, so good. 

    He went to his closet and took out the box with the other 
equipment. 


*******


    Dave Halleran poured a little more oil into his hand and then 
continued massaging his wife's right calf, working his fingers 
deep into the muscles.  

    "Mmmm," said Sally.  "That's very good."  

    "Almost done," he said.  He had been massaging her for almost 
an hour, starting with her neck and working his way down, and his
arms and shoulders ached.

    "Remember, you have to spend plenty of time on my feet," said 
Sally.  "It's in my instructions."

    "I'm going to be so stiff tomorrow morning I'll need a massage 
myself," he complained.  "I'm almost looking forward to moving 
onto the next part, if you can believe that."

    His eyes strayed to the three black leather straps that were 
the only adornment on his wife's naked, gleaming body.  One around 
her waist, and one around each thigh, just below her crotch.  She 
was lying on her stomach on the bed, a beach towel beneath her to 
catch the excess oil, and she hadn't let him see what was on the 
other side of those straps.  But he knew.

    "Getting nervous?" 

    "Getting?  I've been nervous for two days."

    She chuckled.  "That'll teach you menfolk to start boasting 
about your perverted sexual fantasies."

    It had all started last week, when their good friends Bob and 
Corine Eastbrook had invited them over for dinner.  Bob had opened 
two bottles of a terrific Merlot, and both men had overappreciated 
its charms.  As was often the case when inhibitions were 
eased by alcohol, the conversation had drifted around to sex.  He 
didn't remember how it had started, but a good-natured argument 
had developed over sexual fantasies.  Specifically, whether women 
had dark, secret fantasies like men did.  

    "How did we get on that subject the other night, anyway?" he 
asked.

    "You mumbled something implying that all men had secret 
sexual fantasies they never talked about.  Then Corine - or maybe 
it was me, it doesn't matter since Corine and I were in perfect 
agreement - said that women did too."

    "Uh huh.  And it was Bob who insisted that men would always be 
happy to hear about their wives fantasies, but not vice versa.  
Bob's the one who really got me in trouble."

    "I seem to remember you agreeing with him all the way," said 
Sally with a smile. 


*******


    Bob took a pair of scissors out of the box and lifted up his 
wife's short cotton dress.  To his surprise, she wasn't wearing 
any panties.  He chuckled to himself - that was Corine for you.  
Why ruin a perfectly good pair of panties just because you're 
scouring the deepest recesses of your sexual psyche?  He lifted 
the dress all the way up over her waist and bunched it under her 
shoulders.  Her bra unhooked in the back, but he had a perverse 
urge to use the scissors instead.  Why else would she have 
included them in the instructions?

    She flinched and whimpered as the cold steel blade slid under 
the strap.  The scissors made a satisfying tearing sound as they 
sliced though the taut cotton and elastic, and the bra sprang 
loose.  He cut away the shoulder straps for good measure, and the 
ruined garment slithered down onto the bed.  Then he stood behind 
his wife and spent a few seconds admiring the firm white 
globes of her buttocks and the little crescent of darker flesh and 
hair between them.  Even tied up with her naked ass in the air, 
Corine exuded a certain feminine elegance.  He suddenly realized 
he was rubbing his erection through his slacks.  

    He reached into the box and pulled out the next item: a 
flexible leather paddle.  He sniffed it, savoring the new-leather 
smell, and then swung it through the air a few times, testing its 
weight and balance.   


*******


    Dave lifted up his wife's foot and poured a little dollop of 
oil onto the bottom.  Before it could dribble off he worked it in, 
digging his thumbs into the thick skin of her sole.  His 
overworked forearms burned in protest.  Leave it to Sally to come 
up with something that sounded easy but turned out to be torture.  

    "You know, you're the one who came up this whole crazy 
scheme," he said petulantly. 

    "And it was quite a popular suggestion, as I recall.  You and 
Bob certainly jumped right on board."

    He sighed.  It was true: when Sally had suggested that she and 
Corine should each write down their deepest, darkest fantasy and 
then give it to their husband to carry out, he and Bob had started 
salivating like dogs at a barbecue.

    "It sounded like fun the time," he said.  He stole a glance 
between his wife's tan, oily thighs, trying to catch a glimpse of 
the implement that would soon be violating him.

    "I bet it did," she laughed.

    "I think this massage violates the spirit of the agreement," 
he complained.  He dropped her foot and picked up the other one.  
"It's pure pork."

    "Pork?"

    "You know, like when a congressman tacks funding for his pet 
project onto to a big proposal, so it won't have to pass a debate.  
A full-body massage isn't a dark fantasy, it's just something you 
tacked on as a bonus."

    "It's all part of the scenario," she said.  "I need to be 
fully relaxed and pampered before I treat you like a woman."

    He grimaced and involuntarily clenched his buttocks.  "We've 
known each other for ten years, and I never had any idea you'd be 
into something like this.  I couldn't believe it when I read that 
letter."

    She chuckled.  "I can still picture the expression on your 
face."

    "Why did you insist that the instructions should be mailed, 
anyway?"

    She turned her head so he couldn't see her face.  "Writing 
something down and handing it to someone is almost as personal as 
telling them face to face.  But dropping it a mailbox makes it 
more anonymous.  Trust me, I was a psych major, remember?"

    "Yeah. You've got me psyched out right now, that's for sure."


*******


    He had been standing behind her holding the paddle and rubbing 
himself for a couple of minutes now, and she was getting fidgety, 
turning her head from side to side, trying to figure what he was 
up to.  As if she didn't know.

    He moved closer, took careful aim, and swung the paddle.  

    *Crack*

    The sound was louder than he had expected, and her entire 
body convulsed with the shock of it.  She had been quiet for a 
while, but now she started squealing into the duct tape again, and 
struggling against her bonds.  A pink outline of the paddle 
appeared on her buttocks, contrasting nicely with her pale skin.  

    "Perfect," he said to himself with satisfaction.

    *Crack* 

    *Crack*

    He gave her five more, and then he stopped to unzip his pants 
and pull out his stiff cock.  He stroked it as he watched his wife's 
ass slowly become redder and redder.  He recalled the exact 
wording of the instructions:  two dozen strokes of the paddle, 
delivered slowly and deliberately, hard enough to turn the fleshy 
portion of her buttocks bright red.  


*******


    Dave was still massaging his wife's feet, trying to prolong the 
next step as much as possible.  He could feel his hands starting to 
cramp, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.  Neither of 
them had said anything for awhile, and the silence was making him 
edgy. 

    "I wonder what Corine's fantasy is," he said.  "She seems so 
straight-laced and uptight."  

    "Hah!" said Sally.  "I wouldn't say that."

    Now he regretted bringing up Corine Eastbrook.

    "So what's your best guess?" she asked.

    "For Corine's fantasy?  Hmm...I honestly have no idea.  What 
do you think?"

    "Oh, I don't know...I guess I sort of see Corine having 
exhibitionist fantasies.  The quiet ones often do.  And attractive 
women always like to show themselves off.  Corine certainly is 
attractive, wouldn't you say, Dave?"

    "Mmmm," he said noncommittally, massaging her foot with 
renewed vigor.

    "Well anyway, I could see her fantasizing about something 
like having sex in public.  Somewhere where there would be a 
danger of being seen."

    Dammit, but Sally was perceptive sometimes.  Corine had 
mentioned something like that to him just the other week.  He 
wondered if Sally could possibly know about the affair.  No.  They 
were too careful.  

    "I really can't envision Corine doing something like that," he 
said casually.

    "Oh, I can," said Sally.  She heard the tension in his voice 
and took a sadistic pleasure in it.  She thought back to the 
letter she had removed from the Eastbrook's mailbox the other 
morning. The one she had replaced with a letter of her own.  "I 
can imagine Corine putting on a flimsy little summer dress, with 
no panties, and then parking in a public place and fucking Bob in 
the back seat.  Something like that."

    "If you say so.  I guess we'll find out tomorrow night when 
they come over."  

    "Yes, it should be quite an interesting dinner party," said 
Sally with a laugh.  She sat up on the bed and smiled at her 
husband, who looked quite pale.  She took the bottle of oil out of 
his lifeless hand and squirted a liberal coating onto the 
realistic, flesh-colored dildo between her legs.

    "You look so worried, honey.  Just relax, this won't hurt a 
bit."


	The End, "Two Women, Two Fantasies"

	©1998 by DG (Dionysian1)


Author's notes

1)  The idea for this story came to me late at night as I was trying to 
fall asleep (I have mild insomnia), and it seemed so funny to me that 
I laughed out loud.  Normally the story ideas that I get late at night 
seem ridiculous in the morning, but this one still seemed OK.

2)  As always, I enjoy getting feedback on my stories - my email is dionysian1@hotmail.com.

3)  Thanks to Baird Allen, I have a nice web page with all my 
stories on it.  Please drop by and check it out some time:
http://baird.pair.com/dg.htm