IT WAS FRAUD–Part 1 of 6

IT WAS FRAUD—Part 1 of 6 by SENORLONGO

It seems that I have been working on this story forever. I had more than 120 pages written maybe six months ago when I had a hard drive crash on my laptop. Yes, that’s right—all 120 pages were lost. I liked the story so I went back to the beginning and rewrote the entire thing from memory. Because I usually read and edit my stories between eight to ten times before posting online, this story has literally taken forever.

If you’ve read anything of mine before you will know that I typically include plenty of sex in my stories, but only when it fits into the plot. This one is no exception. If you are looking for one frantic sex scene after another you will be disappointed. As always, anyone involved in any form of sex is over the age of eighteen. It’s a long story so I have divided it into six parts of approximately twenty-five pages each. I hope you enjoy it. It was fun writing it the first time, but a lot of work the second. This story starts slowly. Don’t let that turn you off. It gains momentum quickly in part two.

I did live in the Pottstown/Boyertown, PA area for about five years more than thirty years ago. I went back almost annually to visit and shop at the Reading outlets, buying suits like those described in the story in addition to shirts, ties, and even a Coach belt at more than sixty percent below list that’s still hanging in my closet, but then—so are some of the suits. There were plenty of bargains to be had in the outlet malls then. Now that I’m retired I only wear suits to funerals, something that unfortunately happens with increasing frequency every year. Senorlongo

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My head jerked back and forth over and over as I tried in vain to throw off the anguished sleep—sleep filled with hideous nightmares–that seemed to hold me in its iron grip. My twisting head was accompanied by my thrashing body as I tried in vain to lift my leaden eyelids. Yes, my eyelids felt as though they were made of lead; that’s just how heavy they were.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours my eyes opened, but barely. Then I began to have second thoughts. My head was pounding and my mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton. I couldn’t understand. I had been very careful at the reception, drinking only a sip of champagne in a private toast to my gorgeous bride and two gin and tonics over the next four hours. Why then did I have the mother of all hangovers?

Prying my eyes open

I looked up to see my gorgeous sexy wife still wearing the tight white corset that supported her large milky white breasts fully exposed at the top and her naked pussy open and available at the bottom. “Dear God, Lori—I can’t believe I fell asleep on our wedding night. We didn’t get to consummate our marriage, showing the depth of our love for each other.”

“It’s good that you’re finally awake, Sean, but not to worry—I did more than enough consummating for both of us.”

I was still shaking sleep from my brain when I asked, “What…what are you talking about?”

“You need to know how things are going to be between us from now on and there’s no better time than right now.” She reached down to hold my chin with her left hand while she viciously slapped me with her right. “It was so considerate of you to let me make the honeymoon arrangements. Let me show you. Here’s my boarding pass—Philadelphia to Los Angeles to Honolulu.” It said ‘Lori Canning’ because she still had to change her name to mine. “And here’s the other one.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. It read “Michael Hathaway,” Lori’s loser ex-boyfriend.

By now I was up on my elbow and I could clearly see Lori’s red swollen pussy with the long tracks of what appeared to be semen running down her inner thighs. Looking up at her I asked, demanding an answer, “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

At my words she produced what looked like a garage door remote. She pushed the button and my first reaction was to curl up in a fetal position. I had felt a strong electrical shock to my balls. That was the first time I noticed the heavy-duty stainless steel cock cage on my genitals and the thick extension piece just above my testicles that I realized had been the source of the shock. As I rolled up I fell onto the floor, still in some pain. I had been shocked—no doubt–but mostly I had been surprised; more about that later.

I was still rolled up on the floor when I noticed Lori’s so-called ex had walked up to where I was lying. Damn, but I hated this asshole. “Ha ha! Look at the pathetic cuckold. You’ll never fuck Lori again while I’ll have her whenever I want, just like the four times last night. I hope you like the taste of cum because I know that Lori plans to have you clean her up and lick her to a few orgasms several times every day. I’ll make sure you have plenty of semen as part of your diet. Before long you’ll be getting straight from the source.” And then he laughed again.

By then I had risen shakily to my hands and knees and had inched closer to him. I was going to make this bastard pay big time. Lunging forward I drove my right arm up between his legs, slamming my forearm up into his groin, lifting him several inches, and crushing his testicles with the blow. He fell back, screaming in pain. Rushing forward I grabbed the front of his belt to secure him while I rapidly punched his balls at least twenty times before driving the heel of my hand into his nose. The blood that spurted out as I felt the cartilage crumble under my blow was all the reward I needed. It flew up and out, staining my almost new off-white carpet, but I didn’t care. I was about to strike him again when everything went black.

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I was on my stomach with my hands behind my back when I woke again. One attempt to move my hands told me that I had been handcuffed. My head was held in place by two meaty thighs and I knew as soon as she spoke that they belonged to my mother-in-law, Marge. “Hold still, Sean. You need some stitches from where Lori conked you with the champagne bottle. I already have three in you, but I think you’ll need another four to close the wound.” Marge and I had gotten along, but barely. However, I  

knew that she was a highly skilled nurse at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia just outside King of Prussia.

“Of course, all of this could have been avoided if only my idiot daughter had followed the plan.”

“Plan,” I asked. “What plan?”

“I see no reason not to tell you considering that you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life living it. Lori and Michael met in fifth grade and I knew then as they did that they were soul mates–destined to be together forever. That’s why I put Lori on the pill in sixth grade. I wish they had studied more, but they fucked their way all the way through middle and high school. There were 322 students in Lori’s graduating class. Care to guess Lori’s rank?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well…I’m not sure, but it was somewhere in the middle. Want to guess where Michael was?”

“Three hundred and twenty-third? I’m surprised he even got through eighth grade.”

“Actually, I think it was lower, but even worse, Michael has never been able to get and hold even the most menial of jobs.”

“That comes as no surprise.”

“That’s when I realized that I had to marry Lori off to someone with a really good career and lots of money. Then she ran across your friend Troy and the plan came together. I’m sure that Lori and Michael would have had a much better time in Hawaii if she had remembered to handcuff you before you woke up, but they’ll have a lifetime together while you support them financially then come home to cook and clean while Lori and Michael relax and make love. I know that they fucked almost every day while she lived here with you. She told me that you sucked his semen out of her at least three or four times a week and sometimes it was all Michael could do to get out the front door when you came home early from work. But no more, you’ll be Lori’s cuckold slave, working your ass off every day to make money for Lori and Michael to spend and enjoy.”

“Troy! That’s just great. Troy and I have been very close friends for the past twenty years. It’s so nice to know how loyal he was after all those years of friendship.”

“You can tell him yourself; he’ll be here soon for his payoff.”

I was sitting up then and I noticed a red light. “Is that a camera over there?”

“Yes,” Lori replied haughtily. “We’re recording everything that happens to you so Michael and I can see your progress and laugh as Mom breaks you and we’ll also record everything that she has you do during the next two weeks, many of which will prove extremely embarrassing should they become public. They’ll help keep you in line should you be stupid enough to rebel or disobey our orders. Of course, we’ll shock your balls whenever you even think of disobeying. Mom says that will happen often in the beginning, but you’re smart. You’ll learn to obey us even if it has to be the hard way.”

I was still seated on the floor when I heard the doorbell. A minute later Lori returned with my former best friend, Troy Shadwell, in tow. “Hey man, where’s my money? Write me a check–250,000 bucks. I got some high living to do.”

“That’s just great. Mind telling me why you sold me out?”

“A job, man; you never even offered me a decent job.”

“That’s not true. I offered you a job several times, but you weren’t interested.”

“You wanted me to work for twelve dollars an hour. No fucking way; that’s coolie wages. I’m the boss’s best friend.”

“What do you know about metal work? About stamping, casting, or forging? Nothing, that’s what. Being my friend wouldn’t allow you to injure someone through your ignorance. That’s why you’d train and work at twelve for six months, at fifteen for the next six and twenty for the next six. After eighteen months you’d get twenty-five and be eligible for profit sharing, just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’d still have to be a coolie for a year and a half. Now I’m going to be rich and all I had to do was lure you to a party. Let’s have it—two hundred and fifty grand!”

“If you think I have that kind of money sitting around in the bank you’re an even bigger idiot than I realized. You’ll have to wait until I return to work to get your blood money.” “Yeah,” I thought, “but by then I’d have gotten even with you and the rest of these losers, too.” That was a promise I made to myself—a promise I was determined to keep, whatever the cost.

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Troy’s remarks brought back the memory of that Saturday night more than a year ago. I was working on the computer in my home office when Troy walked in. “Don’t tell me you’re working on a Saturday night. C’mon, man—let’s go out. I know of a great party down in Collegeville. Let’s go score some hot babes. You need to get laid.”

“Thanks for the commentary on my love life, but I’m really not in the mood.”

“Ah, c’mon, I need a ride and you need some time away from that factory of yours.”

“What’s the matter, Troy? Mom need her car tonight?”

Troy was thirty, just like me, and he still lived with his mother. That alone was enough to make him the laughingstock of our crowd of friends. I wondered not for the first time how someone as lazy and irresponsible as Troy had become such a good friend.

“Geez, Sean—I don’t want to fight. I can do that with my old lady anytime. Let’s go out and have a good time.” I remember sighing as I saved my work and shut the computer down, making a decision that would prove to be more important and life-changing than I realized at the time.

The party was just a block off Route 422 in Collegeville—about half a mile from the Ursinus College campus. I never did meet the couple who owned the house, but I did have a few drinks and meet several good looking women. I was just about to look for Troy when I walked through the living room. There, trying futilely to deal with some drunk, was probably the hottest woman I had seen in months if not longer. She had a rack that just wouldn’t quit and an ass to match. I was almost up to her when she threw her purse to the floor and stamped her foot in frustration. “God damn it, Michael.”

“What seems to be the problem,” I asked innocently.

“It’s my useless boyfriend. All he does is get drunk and pass out. Linda told me I could put him in one of the guest rooms to sleep it off, but I can’t do anything with him.”

“Not a problem,” I told her as I grabbed one wrist and pulled him into a fireman’s carry. He was a lightweight, probably not more than 140 pounds. Silently, I carried the drunk up the stairs, following the hot babe into one of the rooms where I easily dropped him onto a bed. I walked downstairs and was almost out the door when I realized the babe was just a step behind me.

“Excuse me,” she said tentatively. “Thanks, but I don’t know your name.”

“Sean…Sean Sloan, and yours?”

“I’m Lori Canning and thanks. I never would have been able to do anything with that useless idiot. Can I ask you for one more favor? I need a ride home. I don’t even have money for a cab or even for Uber. Please?”

“Where do you live?”

“In Pottstown, on the east side in the big apartment complex on Forest Drive.”

“I know where that is. Sure, it’s almost on my way to Gilbertsville.” I held the door for her and led her out to my truck. It belonged to my company—Sean Sloan Fabrications. My logo was on the door. I held it open as I commented, “I suppose that I should look for my friend, Troy, but truthfully, I haven’t seen him for more than an hour.”

We talked as we drove. I learned that she was a teller at one of the local banks. The apartment complex was a bit rundown which I thought was just about right for her. I knew that tellers weren’t highly paid even though they had a lot of responsibility for thousands of dollars every day. I wasn’t expecting anything from her, but I did walk her to the door to make sure she could get in safely. She invited me in, but I turned her down telling her that I had to get up early. “Will you wait here for just a minute?”

I stood on the welcome mat while she hurried in, returning a minute later with a small sheet of paper—her name and number. “Call me, will you? You’re obviously several steps up from my soon-to-be loser ex.” She reached up then to kiss my cheek. After another thanks she closed the door and I returned to my truck. Thus began what I thought was an incredible relationship—one filled with love and mutual respect and lots of really hot sex. Now I realized that it had all been a hoax. The entire thing was created and designed to enslave me—nothing more.

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I was taken by surprise when Marge dropped a large dog’s choke collar over my head, pulling me up from my seated position. I had two choices—get up and follow or sit and choke to death. I followed her into the garage where she pushed me into her car’s trunk. Once the lid was closed I allowed myself to smile. These people were idiots—absolute fucking idiots. Their plot was doomed to failure for several key reasons.

First, my dad had been varsity wrestling coach at Boyertown Area High School for more than thirty years. He began training me when I was three and even he said I was the most determined wrestler he had ever known. I never quit—not in the classroom, not on the mat, and not at anything else, either. I had never quit then and I wouldn’t quit now. I was sure I’d be tortured—forced to endure a great deal of pain—but all that would do was really piss me off and make me even more determined to get my revenge.

Second, I owned a metal fabricating company. I could get out of this monstrosity on my cock and balls in an hour or less as soon as I went to work and I had people working for me who could do it even quicker. If they thought I would be too embarrassed they obviously didn’t know me very well. This thing was held together by two bolts that needed an irregular wrench. The wrench wouldn’t have to be perfect. I only needed it to work once and I’d be free.

And third, was my secret, something only my parents knew. It was an accident when I was eight. I got careless while riding my new bike. The front tire caught in a storm drain and the bike twisted around. I was thrown off, my lower back striking the concrete curb. It was seen by a neighbor who phoned the police and my mother. I spent three days in the hospital going through a full battery of tests. Bottom line—my lower body would function almost normally just a bit slower and I would still feel pain, but at less than half of what anyone else would experience. I had been extremely careful to avoid injury from my abdomen down. Now it seemed that my accident might save my life.

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I lived in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania, right off Route 73. From the direction Mistress Marge—that’s right, in what I thought was a total cliché, she told me that’s what she was to be called–had driven I was pretty sure she had gone west on 73 past Boyertown into the farm country beyond.