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Probably half a dozen or so, I think; in the past few years that is. If you add in the fling we had before I got married and the one just after the divorce, oh and the one a couple of weeks ago, but that was excusable, I had probably had sex with Carl fifty or so times. But not for some time. We had reached a sort of unsaid agreement to stop. Nothing heavy and we both knew it would never go anywhere, so we had almost until a couple of weeks ago, stopped, well put it on hold at least.So really, it shouldn't have been that big a surprise that I ended up after the boozy, fun filled, nice lunch with my work colleagues and mates, in Carl's bed in his small flat in that narrow road opposite the station and hospital in Blackheath Village. I wondered, as he undressed me, whether, somehow, meeting Matt had made me more receptive to Carl's cool and casual. "Shall we," as he ran his hand over my bum in the the restaurant when no one could see him, or so I hoped.Carl and I went back a long way.. .? A woman with a stable job, and a loving, caring boyfriend at home waiting for you; why would you be fantasizing about having your body exposed for strangers? Random men, playing with your tits, squeezing and spreading your ass, trying to get those shorts off, desperate to get your tight, beautiful pussy..?" "Because I'm a slut... I'm a slutty girlfriend, and I want to be used," she murmured, as his hand finally reached and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing against her nipple. It was already hard, aching, she was desperate to pull him up, to bury his face against her tits. "I want to be fucked, baby, and passed around," "Used like a living breathing fucktoy, a cum dumpster? My little girl, just a public use toy..." He trailed off, sitting up on his knees, biting her skin softly.She trembled, wrapping her fingers into his hair, pushing his head down, taking the initiative. She felt his lips parted against her thigh, his tongue brushing her skin, and she closed her eyes, breathing.
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It was hard to get to her feet with her hands tied the way they were, but eventually she made it. Straddling the water filled sink on tiptoe, she reached as far up as her bonds would allow and barely managed to snag the chain with her thumb. From there it was a simple matter to grab the chromed metal links with both hands.Marla leaned her full weight against the chain hoping to feel some give, but nothing. She bounced a few times and was rewarded by a slight creaking. She just might have a chance. She bounced harder, and felt at least a little movement. Then her foot slipped, sliding into the sink. The shift put more of her weight on the chain, more than her fingers could support, and she fell forward, only to be brought up shot by the leash just before she hit the tile floor.Gasping for breath, and blinded by pain, she inched back towards the wall until the choke chain eased around her neck. From far away she heard pounding, like a metal drum, accompanied by the moans of the dead..

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