The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense) by Aphrodite Hunt Page B

clothes.”
    Oh God. She
wouldn’t. No.
    My nightmares are
becoming real.
    “ Don!” I
scream at the mirror. I rock
myself against the chair, but my handcuffs bind me securely to
it.
    His eyes pass over
me and flicks away. They return to Agent Sansky. I realize he can’t
see or hear me.
    “Why?”
    “Because I want to
see you naked.”
    “ You have seen
me naked.” His jaw is set in a determined line.
    Agent Sansky sighs.
“I don’t want to repeat what I can do to your girlfriend if you
don’t do what I say.”
    “ I told you. I
w ant to see her before I do
whatever it is that you want me to do.”
    “ Don’t make
this difficult, A21.”
    “My name is
Don.”
    “Take off your
clothes. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”
    Don’t do it, Don, I
will him.
    He stares at
her for a prolonged, resolute moment, and then his shoulders droop.
Sighing, he peels off his
T-shirt. Despair engulfs me. Utilizing all my strength, I attempt
to hop with my chair to the mirror. My movements are stilted and
feeble.
    “ Don!” I call out in vain. Tears squeeze out
of my eyes.
    His
magnificent torso gleams in the overhead lights. The planes of his
abs are a sight to behold. He
reaches for the zipper of his jeans. Agent Sansky watches him with
the same abstract fascination as when she viewed me in the
gynecological chair a couple of days earlier. He is not wearing any
underwear, and so his marvelous cock – which is thankfully not erect – uncurls itself from its resting
state.
    Don drops his
pants , and then bends over to
ease his feet out of his shoes. Finally naked, he is the most
splendid creature I have ever seen.
    Pamela Sansky seems
to think so too from the admiring and lusty look on her face. She’s
a beautiful woman. I cannot deny that. I wonder if Don thinks so
too.
    Something in my
chest wrenches.
    “Put your hands
behind your head. Then turn around. I want to look at you.”
    She’s intent on
humiliating him the way she humiliated me.
    His movements
are burdened and reluctant every step of the way. He seems to be
fighting some sort of internal
warfare within himself. Then he complies, placing both hands at the
back of his skull, like a prisoner of war. Pamela Sansky
scrutinizes his body with both the curiosity of a scientist and the
desire of a bitch in heat.
    I bite down on
my tongue to stop myself from screaming when she moves in to touch
him. Her fingers pinch his
nipples, making them swell and stand up. They run down the planes
of his ripped abdomen – which resembles a perfectly sculptured
piece of plate armor. They grope his fine shaft of a penis, and
this is where she starts to slide her palm up and down his flaccid
rod. There is no question that she wants to arouse him.
    Don swallows,
the Adam’s apple on his throat visibly moving like a mouse
running up and down. It’s
clear on his face that he is uncomfortable about this. My fists
wring themselves behind the chair in their handcuffed state.
I led him to this. I provoked her into
displaying her power over us, and Don is now her unwilling
victim.
    Smiling,
Pamela Sansky (I can never think of her as a mere Pamela) continues
to pump him into a state of erection. I suppose men can’t help
themselves. They are creatures of sensation. As she does so, her other hand wanders to his balls
and squeezes them.
    Don’s chest rises
and falls.
    He is finally
erect. His gorgeous cock stands at attention, so huge that when Pamela Sansky slaps it
unkindly to his abdomen, it reaches his belly button.
    “Very nice,” she
pronounces. “So this is what you’ve been sticking into her.”
    “ What do you
want of me?” He is glum.
    “ I want a
little piece of that action. You have the ability of a fucking
machine,” she replies, admiration in her voice.
    “You’ve spied on
us,” he accuses.
    “Yes, of
course.”
    “I’m not going to
fuck you.”
    The agony
within me is excruciating. I know how hard Don is resisting, but I
also know that her threats