Ronnie repents

She opened an eye, but her whole world was still one of darkness. She felt something around her face, like a mask. It killed her with fear when she regained consciousness. Ronnie tried to move, but couldn’t.

She felt the rope around and around her body, firmly attached to a narrow couch. Her wrists were tightly tied together and pulled behind her head where they were stuck at the back of the couch.

Ronnie realized she was completely naked. Her legs were pulled under the couch and tied firmly to her ankles, the couch forced her legs apart. For a moment, she was terrified by the realization that her sex was open and completely exposed. She had to scream, but the ball-gag in her mouth made a sound almost impossible.

Then she became aware of something else. Her vagina was filled with something hard. It felt like there was a big dick in her and filled her. Ronnie regained consciousness quite quickly and as she did, the sound of soft humming suddenly made her entry into her world. The dildo in her vulva began to caress her rhythmically. The dildo was attached to a device that was mounted at the end of the bench, a device that pushed the dildo about four centimeters in and out of its vulva with the speed of about two strokes per second.

The dildo was large in width, just over an inch, and it stretched Ronnie’s sex with every thrust, making her senses a strange mix of pain and excitement.

Then, when her consciousness was restored, the dildo took over her body and began to moan almost silently her way to an orgasm. She knew it was just the beginning of what she was promised - and she wasn’t looking forward to what was still in store for her. She could handle the dildo for now, but knew it would soon be painful if it continued its ruthless action in her vulva. Her sex became more sensitive and sensitive to every stroke and, even when her second orgasm built to its inevitable climax, Ronnie began to feel the pain that caused this massive device to hair.

Ronnie remembered why she was here and knew she had no choice. She should just accept what would be asked of her.

The letter was on the dining table, and underneath it was the envelope in which it was placed. Posted, not delivered by hand. Posted. The letter was addressed to Craig Carter and, as usual, he was at the post that morning, while his wife, Ronnie, was still dressing upstairs.

Normally the radio was on in the kitchen while Craig prepared their breakfast, but the kettle had long cooked and turned itself off and, after opening the mail, Craig had been waiting.

“Breakfast ready, honey?” The female voice called down. Silence, not the usual answer. Then the footsteps came when Ronnie went down the stairs.

“What is it?” She asked her head to stick around the dining room door and saw that the table was bald.

“This is,” Craig glowed at her holding up the paper in front of her.

Ronnie took the sheet and looked at it, pale when she did.

Shit. She said, “Which asshole would send something like that?”

The bastard you’re fucking, maybe? Craig spit out the words.

“But I wasn’t there, there’s only you,” Ronnie protested.

“Really.” Craig took the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Craig, I thought you’d want to know that your wife is really good in bed. She really is one of the best oral givers I know and I love the tattoo on the inside of her left leg - how amusing to have a four-leaf clover just under her shaved sex. I’m jealous you have one of the most prominent clitoris I’ve ever had to tie. And I think your wife is a good son of a bitch. I just want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed together for the past six weeks.” The letter was not signed. Ronnie had turned pale. “So,” spit Craig at her, “tell me there’s nothing wrong.”