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| The Subjugation of Karen 3 | Back to M | Back to main page |
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| The Subjugation of Karen 3 | Back to M | Back to main page |
The Subjugation of Karen
3 (M/f, nc, humil, D/s)
By William Drake
"William Drake" <mast_1945@hotmail.com>
The kids had insisted on Luigi's. When they were given a choice,
they always insisted in Luigi's. Karen didn't mind. She had a weakness for
Italian, and any time her husband was willing to take the family out on a
weeknight ... a night she didn't have to cook and wash dishes ... was treat
enough for her.
She felt relaxed as she listened to the usual family discussion.
Everyone seemed to want to go through the whole menu, tempting themselves by
considering all the possibilities. In the end, each would probably order
the same things they always did, but tradition was tradition. It gave them
all an excuse to enjoy the savory, garlicy aroma that permeated any good
Italian restaurant. Her husband was even in a good enough mood that he
didn't even object to springing for three white spinach pizzas which they
would divide as an appetizer.
Over the last few day, she'd thought quite a bit about the events
of the last week ... everything that had transpired at the large house on
the hillside. All of it was so far outside of anything in her previous
experience that she found it hard at times to believe. She'd been raped by
three different men, and orally violated ... she could find no other term
for it ... by one of her closest friends. Harder to believe, but impossible
to deny, she'd enjoyed virtually all of it. She'd even come to some kind of
accommodation with it. Karen, she'd told herself, wouldn't enjoy those
things. But in that semi-magical house she was someone different. There
she wasn't Karen. There she was 'harlot.'
But this evening it was Karen, not harlot, who looked up from her
noisy family to survey the interior of the restaurant. And it was Karen
whose blood turned to ice when her eyes strayed casually to the booth in the
back corner.
It was Him.
He was sitting with a woman. She looked to be about fifteen years
younger than him. Karen studied her carefully. The young woman was a bit
over-dressed for the informal restaurant, with a low cut dress that
dispalyed a bit more tit than Karen thought appropriate. 'I still don't
think they're as big as mine,' she thought with satisfaction.
When she transferred her attention back to Him, she saw with
dismay that he was looking right at her. And he was smiling. She turned
immediately back to her family, her mind spinning in confusion. What would
she do if he came over to their table? What would she say to him? How
would she explain knowing him? Worst of all, how could she introduce him to
her children? To her husbamd? "Darling, I want you to meet the man who's
been screwing the shit out of me. I'm sorry I don't know his name?!"
Though she tried to ignore him, it was impossible not to notice
when he left his companion and started in their direction. She even
considered screaming in panic and running from the restaurant. Anything!
At the last moment he caught her eye, gestured almost
imperceptibly with his head, and veered slightly toward the corridor that
lead to the restrooms. Karen was certain that her whole family must have
sensed the emotions flooding her.
"Excuse me," she whispered to her husband. "I have to use the
restroom."
Ho nodded without looking at her. She had a momentary fear that
one of her daughters might decide to accompany her, but just then the
appetizers arrived and they were too intent on the food to even seem to
notice her departure.
Karen hoped that her legs weren't shaking as much as it seemed to
her they were as she cut around two tables. She'd expected him to be
waiting in the hallway, but it was empty. 'He can't expect me to meet him
in the men's room!' she thought in desperation.
She needn't have worried. As she was passing a door on the right,
just before the facing restrooms, it opened. A hand reached out, grabbed
her arm, and pulled her in. She had a faint impression of a storeroom
before he turned her and pushed her face first against the wall.
"Put your hands on the wall," he ordered gruffly. "high above
your head and apart."
Instantly she was converted from Karen to harlot. She leaned
forward and supported her weight against her hands. Her breathing
quickened. Thoughts of one of her daughters going to the ladies' room and
not finding her ... of an employee needing to get something from this
storeroom ... flitting across her consciousness and were instantly
dismissed. her body was there for him.
Whether the man had the same thoughts ... or whether he didn't
feel she was worth leaving his companion for long for ... or whether he had
a point to make to the woman who so obligingly jutted her ass out to him ...
he clearly had no intention of taking much time. She felt her skirt being
raised in back, then his other hand rudely grabbing the waistband of her
panties and yanking them down to catch right below the swell of her ass.
That same hand fondled her asscheeks for a few moments, then deserted her.
She heard the metallic rasp of his zipper, then a few moments later felt his
stiffness prodding between her cheeks.
"Hold your ass right there," he whispered. "I'm just going to rip
off a quick piece."
She bit her lower lip as she felt the head probing into her
crevice, afraid that even the slightest noise might be heard in the public
corridor. She bit down harder as he lodged it inside her sphincter, put
both hands on her hips, and shoved the whole length up the dry hole. She
wished he'd said something. Anything. Even an insult would be better than
his silence. As he began sawing in and out of her tortured tail, she saw
herself as a side of beef hanging in a butcher shop. She suspected that was
his point. He stood behind her using her every bit as callously as if she
had been. But she was no more able to work up any more resentment than she
had been able to on Saturday. Now she was harlot, and it was harlot's
destiny and purpose to be used as his piece of meat. The thought that if
she screamed very loud the sound would carry al the way to the table where
her unsuspecting husband was happily eating spinach pizza was almost
exciting.
She almost wished he would take time so she could savor that
image, but the man had no intention of doing that. After only a dozen or so
lunges up into her asshole, he grunted once and shoved it all the way home.
She felt his lust shoot itself up into her bowels.
Finished, he took one deep breath, then yanked himself out of her
bottom so quickly it hurt more than it had going in. As he zipped himself
up, he leaned into her whispered, "Saturday ... slut will pick you up at
one." Then she heard the door open and close, and he was gone.
For a moment she stood there, almost enjoying the thought of what
she would look like to someone who opened the door. A whore with her hands
on the wall ... her bare ass sticking out ... the groove between her cheeks
glistening with the cum of a man whose name she still han't learned. The
she reached back, pulled her panties back up and let her skirt fall back
into place. Thirty seconds later she was back at her family's table. Her
husband seemed to notice her return no more than he had her departure. But
as her older daughter slid the plate with the last slice of their appetizer
to her, she asked, "Are you okay, Mom? You look ... funny."
Karen took the slice and smiled at her. "No, dear," she said.
"I'm fine."
But inside she was wondering. 'Am I Karen again?' she thought.
'Or am I still harlot.' Worse was wondering if there was really all that
much difference.
