Deception: A Stalker's Twisted Game

Tom Ross had no idea that his wife was withholding secrets, and this entire episode had been choreographed by the very man he'd identified as a serial-rapist and murderer, who now sat on a hilltop three hundred feet away, watching the performance and snapping pictures. Further material to use against Lila, or Tom for that matter. The stalker had chuckled aloud as he'd contemplated the idea of emailing the images to the authorities and having the Detective himself accused of rape. For wasn't that what he was doing to his wife?

And if Tom had known, would he have stopped? If Lila uttered the safe-word, would he have heard it? Possibly, for even as he spat insults at his spouse, with words drawn from his subconscious jealousy of the attention and reputation she received in her profession, he intuitively sensed all was not quite right with the scene. The pleading tone of her voice, and expression on her face, appeared real, not faked, or a performance that she was putting on to please him. Had Lila, too, slipped on a mask for the show, or was it something else?

Tom Ross didn't contemplate for too long, however as the devil buried inside him whispered encouragement.

He had an out, what he had at the station when a suspect accused him of abuse, and he and his fellow officers called plausible deniability. There were no witnesses to deny his story that the criminal had resisted arrest, or fallen down the stairs, and in this case, Lila had taken the initiative, sent him the items in the box, along with the safe-word, and requested that he use her. If, the next morning, she regretted it, then his wife, and only his wife, was to blame. All the man had done is what she'd

requested.

So, when her countenance changed, and she took the head of his cock between her lips, he didn't stop for an instant. Nor, apart from a small gasp of pleasure elicited by her sucking, did he allow her to gain control, pause to enjoy the sensations, or lessen his roughness. He didn't want to enjoy it, or just to get off, because for Tom Ross' alter-ego it wasn't about sex or pleasure, but power, control and the exertion of his superior strength. "I told you to fucking beg for it, bitch."

His harsh words echoed off the walls as he drew the whip back to smash it into Lila's thighs, and Tom briefly shivered in pleasure, and from another undefined emotion, as he peered down at her with black pupils and clenched teeth, then planted his palm on the back of her head. The man panted, and his chest heaved, not from exertion, but with the adrenaline that ran though his body. "And fucking look at me; I want to see you take it all, whore." The latter came out as a grunt, and Lila Ross wasn't left with any choice as he jerked her face up, hoping his next action would spring her eyes wide-open.

The man bent his knees, then straightened, and slammed every last thick inch of his meat into his wife's mouth. The impetus forced her muscles to open around his throbbing shaft, and Tom grunted when the tip hit the back of her throat. Shortly thereafter, wet sucking noises, and the sounds of his balls slapping her chin sound filled the room, as he kept her head still, and began to thrust. Tom maintained his grip on her head, and slammedd himself in and out until small bubbles of air formed at her lips, saliva coated his shaft, and dribbled from the corners of her mouth. "You like that cock?" Tom screamed at her as he drove his meat with ever increasing speed and urgency, throat fucking her without care, or now even a thought, about the woman on her knees.

He taunted, and groaned in arousal with each thrust before, after a minute or so, he finally ripped her away from his erection. His engorged cock glistened with her spit and saliva, which flew through the air as he slapped his sopping head against her cheek as he had previously, bent to grab her chin between thumb and forefinger, and smirked. "Imagine how it's going to feel in your cunt."

Lila's relief didn't last long, however, for the moment the last comment had slipped from his lips. Tom shoved his meat back to the hilt in Lila's mouth and, as his balls tapped her chin, pulled her head forward so that her nose squashed against his abdomen, and restricted her air passages. This time, Tom didn't move or thrust, but simply stood there, panting, with his forehead beaded in droplets of sweat, palms planted on the back of her head, and the full length of his shaft down her throat. He wanted to have the slut gag on it, and be made to scrabble and fight for breath before he put the cuffs at his feet to use. "Or maybe I'll fuck you up the ass."

Up on the hilltop, Mark Dubois was also erect, masturbating as he enjoyed the sight. "Tut tut, Detective. I think you and I could be friends."