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Review This Story || Author: rbbral

Deadlier Than The Male

Chapter 1

DEADLIER THAN THE MALE

Chapter One

Jo felt betrayed, for she was sure she had been, by her husband of five years, whom she had loved and whom she thought had loved her.

Well, maybe he did, but going to see her neighbour and best friend down the road was a funny way of showing it. Of course she had no proof – yet. But soon she would.

Didn't he find her attractive? Twenty-seven, raven hair, 5 feet ten inches, great body, slim and athletic, and, she thought a pleasant disposition as well. She had family money and a well-paid job. So what could he want from Pat? Pat was the same height, slim and attractive, but with mousy brown hair. Her husband had died before he was thirty but Pat had been well provided for, and she also had a good job. So what was she offering to her husband that Jo couldn't provide? This afternoon Jo would try and find out. Twice in the last fortnight she had followed Tom, her husband, supposedly going to play squash, to Pat's house. Two hours later he would return, making up some cock and bull story about how the game had gone.

She still loved him, she thought they had a great sex life, experimental but not too kinky, so what could he be seeing Pat for? He had a slim, hard body, not dissimilar in fact to hers or Pats – similar height and slim waist and limbs. She had decided she would not give him up easily, she would fight for him, but first she had to find out more. Pat had invited her round for tea that Saturday afternoon, and Jo had prepared well. She wanted evidence and she was going to search Pat's house for it. It would be somewhere, she knew and then she would confront Tom with it, and have it out with both of them if necessary. Pat was a dear friend, and Jo had really got to know her since the loss of her husband, but betrayal was beyond any friendship. She would find out more first, she was not, yet anyway, going to come to any fast conclusions.

“More tea?” Pat said, smiling at her friend.

“Sure, thanks.”

“I'll heat up the water.” Pat said and went to the kitchen. Now's your chance, Jo thought, and quickly dispensed two sleeping pills, powdered down, into Pat's half filled cup. That should be enough to put her out for an hour or so for me to do some exploring. Pat returned and they chatted happily, the emotional undercurrent not apparent. Pat sat back on the chair and yawned.

“God, I don't know what has got into me. I'm quite drowsy this afternoon.”

“Probably work.” Smiled Jo, innocently. Two minutes later Pat was out. Jo, her heart thumping, nervously left the room and began to explore the house. Three bedrooms – she found nothing, bathrooms – nothing, the downstairs – nothing. That only left the basement. Well, last chance, she thought. Laundry, workroom and shower stall – and a locked door! This might be interesting, Jo thought. But where would she keep a key? She looked under plants, rugs, paint pots and into cupboards. Finally she found a key on the window ledge. She took a deep breath and slipped the key in the lock. Do you really want to find out, she thought to herself? No, I have to know, I'm fighting for my marriage, and I'm no weakling. She found a light switch and turned it on.

Nothing she could have imagined could have prepared her for this! She gulped in a lungful of air as she surveyed the room. It was a bizarre cross between bedroom, torture chamber and den! It was a big room, and the floor was covered in white spongy rubber tiles. Two of the walls had full length cupboards with mirrors, below the high ceiling was a latticework of metal tubing on a two foot grid, with spot lighting on runners. There were half a dozen switches with dimmers along the walls. This in itself might not have been so strange, but it was what was in the room that took her breath away.

A king sized bed was up against one wall, with metal head and footboards. The sheet over it was shiny and black, as were the pillows. Hanging from the latticework throughout the room were chains and cuffs, and horizontal bars with attached cuffs. Along the wall at various intervals were winches and pulleys and rings were embedded in the rubber-tiled floor. This is some torture chamber; Jo thought and sat down on the bed. Her hand rested on the sheet, it was cool and smooth. This wasn't satin or silk, Jo thought and leant down and sniffed it. The sheet and the pillows were made of latex! Attached by chains to the head and footboards were cuffs and a padded collar. Her mind was in a whirl, and her eyes traversed the room again. On one side was a padded table bolted to the floor and with straps along the sides and legs. A vaulting horse, like from a school gym was in a corner, also bolted to the floor, at the head was a facepiece with an internal knob. She assumed your face would press into the mask and the knob, well the knob would enter your mouth – and gag you!

So this is what they got up to, she thought. She was not naïve. She had heard about bondage and rubber fetishism, she'd heard about nightclubs and people dressing up in rubber. Tom and she had experimented a little with bondage, always at his insistence. She had played along; although she didn't dislike it, sometimes she quite liked the constriction and she giggled and wriggled as he brought her to orgasm, but they did not do it very often. But that was all, she thought, quite naughty and innocent. She had even spanked him occasionally, but not too hard and he seemed to like that. She didn't want to hurt him, but now on reflection maybe she should have!

There was also a rubber covered padded post, clearly for tying someone up, and whipping. She was catching on quickly. She stood up and tentatively opened up one of the closets. Her initial shock had been overcome by curiosity. From a row of hangers hung a wide variety of clothing. She noticed quickly they were all made of latex; the smell was unmistakable. She slipped her hands between the clothing; it was cool and smooth and shone under the lights. She didn't find the aroma offensive, to the contrary in fact. She pulled out some of them for inspection – a full length cape, catsuits in different colours and designs, some exposing the breasts or holes for nipples to poke through. There were leotards with high and low necks, heavily boned corsets, with padded bras and thick reinforced gusset pieces.

Strangely, she found herself not shocked at all, some of the clothes were a little bizarre, but some – the catsuits and the corsets might be fun to wear, she thought. They would certainly flatter the figure as she could see they were figure hugging. There were stockings and tights in various colours – red, white, black and transparent; and there were gloves of all length and colours and thickness.

The next closet contained more intimidating attire, but she found herself beginning to get fascinated by this strange world she had stepped into. From a series of drawers she slowly pulled out and examined a whole series of masks, hoods and helmets. Some were without eye and mouth holes, some with and some without zips. She examined at length some that were made of two skins, which could then be pumped up with an attached inflator bulb; the inner skin would squeeze tightly against the wearers face. Phew, she thought, this was quite serious stuff. Several of the masks had built-in gags, some were in the shape of a cock, or a large rubber ball and some were inflatable like the helmet. What would it be like to be wearing one of these, she thought – deaf, dumb and blind, with rubber pressing in on all her pores. She wasn't claustrophobic so this rather intrigued her. Another drawer had a whole series of gags, with tubes or inflatable balls, or cocks. Almost without knowing what she was doing she slipped a ball gag into her mouth, tasting the cool pungent rubber on her compressed tongue. Mmmm, this is big; you could almost throttle on this, she thought. She wiped it dry and replaced it with the others. Another drawer had panties and girdles, all in latex. They ranged from thongs to bloomers, tight and loose. And some had inserts, cocks sticking up in the gusset, presumably to be stuck into your pussy….or up your rear! On occasion Tom, well greased, had bummed her and truth be told, at the right time and occasion she quite liked it, the feeling of fullness and restriction and her submissively kneeling in front of him as he rutted away. And the idea of walking around with a plug up your arse did make her chuckle a little. She was no prude but compared to this, well, perhaps just a little conventional. But as she always said, she didn't preach – consenting adults and all that! That was fine by her, but these two consenting adults didn't include her!

Her husband and her best friend were playing at who knows what – evidently she was not to be considered. Quickly she went through the remainder – there were bodybags with in-built sleeves and a front zip to a tight neck. There was one with an attached hood – once in there she thought you'd never get out unless your partner wanted it. There was even an inflatable one, once pumped up you'd be cocooned, mummified alive in rubber. And there were other “costumes” – a schoolgirl, a nun, a nurse and a tarty French maid. This was all for some role-playing, all in rubber and all fairly innocuous. Then there were cuffs, chains, straps and collars all in rubber or leather. Finally and this was no surprise, paddles, and whips and canes. After the last half hour she'd love to use these on Pat or Tom. In time, she thought, in time – all will be in the planning.

As she prepared to leave she noticed in one corner a video camera on a tripod and a VCR and TV with tapes underneath. How considerate, she thought, they've filmed it all for me! There were five tapes and she would not have time to view all of them. But with the help of fast forward she would get a feel. She pulled up a chair – padded, with cuffs at wrists and ankles and chest – strapped to this she would go nowhere.

For the next thirty minutes she viewed as much as she could – sometimes speeding up and then slowing down. At the end she felt quite exhausted. Images that would remain with her included the following:

-throughout all the tapes she was pleased to note that Tom and Pat did not have sex.

-the closest body contact they had was, and here Jo winced, when Pat with thick strap-on penis entered Tom's rear. He wriggled and grunted but being tied to the vaulting horse and well gagged he could do little as she laughed and pushed slowly into him. Although she was horrified at first Jo was fascinated by the episode. Why did Tom want or like this? Why should she question why?

-most of the vignettes concerned elaborate dressing in strange costumes, masking and gagging and severe tying up. The choreography of the ritual fascinated her. The defined role-playing, submissive/dominant, nurse/patient (here Tom gave the stretched and exposed Pat an extensive enema, soon she groaned in her bonds and was released to relieve herself off camera) schoolgirl/teacher (here Tom dressed was a cheeky schoolgirl – looking quite sexy in make-up, short skirt and frilly knickers and being spanked by Pat dressed in cloak and mortarboard) and doggy/master (here Tom wore a strange catsuit that forced him to crawl on all fours, his limbs doubled up and zipped into short tubes, and with an anal probe stuck into her rear and as he waddled his tail wiggled). Jo actually laughed at this.

-some scenes were much more intense! One of the players was strung up and stretched out, legs and arms wide while covered in black latex, corseted, cocooned , gagged and masked and with yards of chain wrapped around waist, chest and through the crotch – so cruelly tight that it almost disappeared between the arse crack. Hardly able to move or make a sound the other soundly paddled away. At first she was shocked at the violence of it, but soon Jo found herself being aroused. She wanted to be the paddler, wanting to thrash the helpless victim. It didn't matter if it was Tom or Pat, she wanted to hurt them. She would, with glee, paddle either or both of them.

But then something strange came over her, she imagined herself as the victim, powerless, mute, exposed and yet covered, vulnerable, biting down on the gag, gripping the chains, having her breasts fondled and slapped and her arse thoroughly paddled until she screamed for relief, a scream that could not be heard – and it would continue. Could this be what she really wanted? She noticed she was breathing fast, she tried to breathe more easily, and she returned the tapes, closed the closets, taking a last look at all the rubber clothes and turning the light off, left the room. She locked the room and returned upstairs to Pat.

She was still asleep, all innocence in cool silk blouse and short skirt. Jo imagined sticking a thick rubber cock in that sensuous mouth - that would quieten her! “Still waters” they say, well who would imagine a truly kinky couple in our neighbourhood?

Jo vowed there and then that Pat and Tom and she would soon meet under very different circumstances! Pat soon woke and Jo made a light reference to her nodding off – not saying it was for over an hour – and soon she made her goodbye.

Jo had planning to do, and that is what she did for the next week – meticulously. Revenge was on her mind, they had not had sex but she felt betrayed. She would invade their little world to give them something to think about. She thought she loved her husband, she thought she knew him, but evidently did not. But she knew more about him now. Why did he like all this stuff? Did it matter? Not really, she thought, but if he did, then why exclude her? Perhaps because he thought she would laugh at him, ridicule him. He was a passionate lover, but his kink he obviously thought he would have to satisfy somewhere else.


Review This Story || Author: rbbral
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