Harriet Peniston 3 - The Witness Program - In Deep

The third part of my story about a good wife discovering a part of herself

Wednesday came around expectantly. Once again Harriet tried to be super organised and kept her eyes open for the postman. Once again Witness had a number of parcels and once his van had driven into his driveway, she carried them over in a little tower. He watched from his doorway laughing as she brushed past and placed the boxes on a table. She stood before him in her dress and lifted the hem to her chest. She wasn’t wearing panties and she proudly showed her bare cunt to show she had followed his orders. He smiled, nodding appreciatively and this time it was Harriet who climbed the stairs to the bedroom while he followed with the boxes.

She dropped the dress to the floor on immediately entering the room, standing naked and enjoying his eyes on her. Witness walked around her, never removing his gaze, until he put the boxes in his cupboard. She heard him going through some boxes and then he emerged with a small packet. He tossed it to her and said “This is for you. Put it on”

She opened the packet to find a cheap chain necklace with a small charm attached. It was a spade from a suit of cards. It wasn’t exactly fine jewellery.

“You didn’t have to”, she said. “You don’t need to buy me anything”.

“I didn’t”, was his reply, “Put it on”.

She tipped it out of the packet and held it to her neck, waiting for his help. He stood behind her and reached round squeezing her left tit, before he fastened it. She let it drop to sit between her breasts.

“Good. Now smile”, he said, taking a few photos of her standing bare breasted wearing the charm. She giggled and posed enjoying the attention. Once he had taken his pictures she lay back on the bed, her legs open, showing him her shaven pussy.

“Turn over”, he instructed and she rolled over showing her still pert bottom. Witness opened another envelope and removed a small sheet of paper. He peeled off a layer and carefully positioned it on her bum. “Don’t move”, was his second instruction as he went to the ensuite bathroom and came back with a wet cloth. He gently sponged the paper. Harriet wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt very caring and intimate. He slowly peeled the paper away and dabbed it dry. “There you go”, he said. “What is it?”, she asked. “You’ll see”, was his reply.

He told her to kneel on the bed as he walked to a side table and set up a little camera on a tiny tripod and pointed it at the bed. Once satisfied with the position he undressed as she watched.

His cock seemed even bigger, even thicker, even darker. It was fully erect and she blushed as she realised she was the cause. He came towards her with his phone on record.

“Now get on all fours and wiggle that ass”, he said. She leant forward on her hands, popped her bum up and wiggled for him trying to put on a good show. After a moment she felt his hand squeeze her cunt and a finger slip in, rotating and feeling her wetness.

“Get ready”, he said as she felt his cock pushing at her pussy, sliding in and opening her up fully. He didn’t stop until it was fully in.

“Oh fuck”, she gasped, dropping to her elbows. She felt him withdraw, it felt amazing, his full length drawing against her. Then he pushed in again harder, and faster, and again, and again. She felt the spade charm swinging on its chain against her breasts.

“Oh god”, she whimpered as he slammed his cock deep into her. She could feel his balls swinging against her, as he kept pounding.

She dropped her head into the bedsheets, as she was pushed again and again. His hands reached around for her tit again, squeezing and pinching.

“God”.

She heard his voice, but it wasn’t God, it was Witness. “Say I’ve witnessed the power. SAY IT!”

She raised her head. “I’ve witnessed the power”, she stumbled under the physical onslaught.

“Again, louder”, he said as he kept up the power and rhythm.

“I’ve witnessed the power. I’ve witnessed the power”, it became a chant in time with his thrusts, she repeated it louder between her gasps. It was like an invocation, making her even more light headed, as she felt it build inside her.

His hands were on her hips, his thrusts taking his cock up to the hilt, faster and harder.

She felt it in her very inner core. She felt it bulge, she felt it spurt, she felt herself flood. He held her hips close to him, remaining fully impaled as he emptied inside of her. She shuddered and cried out as her orgasm engulfed her while he held her to him tight.

It seemed like forever before he eventually withdrew. “Don’t move”

She wondered what he had in mind as he moved behind her.

“Open your legs a little further”. She adjusted her position. “That’s nice”, he said.

She held that position for a while and then he said “Squeeze that cunt”.

She contracted her vaginal muscles, bringing up her pelvic floor, hoping that was what he meant. “Yes. Good”. She remained like that for another while before he slapped her on the ass and said she was done. She certainly felt it, she let herself collapse on the bed exhausted.

She felt pummeled and bruised, but so satisfied. She watched him as he walked around checking the camera.

“You’ll blur my face again?”, she asked.

“Yes, but it’s not your face they’ll be watching”, he laughed. “This will be good”. He shot her a wide grin.

She tried to stand, but her legs felt like jelly. She sat on the edge of the bed trying to recover her strength. Sex had never been that draining before. Witness pulled her up and stripped the bed, putting the covers into a bin bag. “Take that and wash them”, he said as he returned to his camera. His attention had completely left Harriet, and she suddenly felt like a spare part. She recovered her dress and put it on and staggered towards the door. She had arrived without underwear and now felt the uncomfortable drip between her legs and running onto her thighs.

“I’d best go”, she said. She only got a grunt in reply.

Was it always going to be like this, she thought as she crossed the close as quickly as possible, carrying the bin bag, conscious that she probably looked like she’d been in a traffic accident.

Her first stop was the washing machine. She emptied the bag into it, threw in a detergent tab and switched it on, thankful to that nobody else in the house involved themselves in the laundry. She then climbed the stairs to the bathroom, ran the taps and stepped out of her dress.

The water was warm and welcoming, and soothed her pains. She remembered the strength of her orgasm and decided it was worth it.

Relaxing in the bath she picked up the phone and watched her blow job video. Again she was surprised at how good she seemed at sucking cock, when she had actually felt totally out of her depth.

There were more likes and comments.

“Perfect Queen of Spades”. She was still wearing the necklace and she suddenly realised what it represented. She smiled, holding it between her fingers as she laid further back in the bath

She laid there for nearly an hour, occasionally topping up the hot water with her toes on the tap. This was her time and she was going to enjoy it. She still had a couple of hours before anyone came home and she had to play mother again.

She dried herself and dressed, picking up her phone. She was still in her video gallery and noticed that there was now a second video. She started playing it. It was the video he had just shot, but it seemed small on her phone. She went downstairs, closed all the curtains and switched on the big TV. She made sure to reduce the volume before she started to cast the video from her phone.

It started with a shot of her bottom, presented straight to camera. On her bum was a tattoo, the spade symbol again but with a white letter Q at the centre. She reached behind into her waistband and felt it still on her skin. It had survived the bath.

She watched herself perform a sexy wiggle and then saw Witness’s hand move between her legs. He inserted a finger and then showed how wet she was to the camera. The watching Harriet blushed.

Then his cock moved in and without any hesitation pushed into her. She heard her own gasp.

The shot now cut to the side, Witness thrusting into her. She watched her own tits jiggle to his rhythm and watched the hypnotic swing of her QoS necklace. She never really had sex doggy style and yet watching herself doing it raised a strong, raw emotional response. She heard her own moans and whimpers. She didn’t remember making that much noise, and they became more muffled but louder as she put her head into the bedclothes as he kept fucking her hard. She watched her hands grab at the bedclothes.

She heard his instruction and watched her head come up. “I’ve witnessed the power”. She heard it repeated, occasionally lost in grunts, gasps and yelps. Once again he had blurred her face, but she wanted to see it. It was quite intoxicating to watch that power build as she repeated the phrase. She watched his hands on her hips grabbing her and pulling her in and then with one final, powerful thrust he remained deep in her, holding her tight to him.

She watched as her body shuddered and convulsed and heard herself cry out, her moans dying down as he finished ejaculating inside of her. The angle cut again to her rear as he withdrew. His cock was covered in a creamy substance, her own juices churned up along with his cum, foam around her cunt. The camera lowered as she watched herself change position, widening her legs.

She saw her bare pussy lips up close. They glistened with juices and she noticed they were actually quivering. They were puffed up and parted, allowing her a view into her own cunt hole, his semen flowing from within, thick and dangling from her pussy in long strands before falling onto the bed. She watched her own vagina contract and another glob of semen emerged, falling to join the rest in a pool. She gasped at the view, close up, high definition on a 65” screen.

Checking the time she watched it another two times and each time the power of the experience didn’t subside.

Time had ran away from her and she quickly turned off the TV as she heard the front door. It was her daughter Hannah, home from school.

“Hi mum”, she paused, “what’s that?”, she was looking at the necklace which was still hanging round her neck.

Harriet thought fast. “It’s just a lucky charm I picked up from that accessories stall in the centre”, she said.

“You don’t normally like that stuff”, replied Hannah as she dropped her bag and went upstairs to her room. Harriet sighed with relief that her story had been accepted so easily.

Hannah’s voice came down the stairs, “Are we still having takeaway pizza tonight?”

Harriet had forgotten the monthly dinner party that evening. Thankfully it wasn’t her turn to host. She’d be eating across the close at Number 4, well at least she didn’t have to prepare the family dinner and she was already bathed. She’d managed to claw back her time with no effort. She smiled as she thought about how things had worked out. “Yes”, she called up. You and Daniel can pick whatever you want”. “Okay”, came the reply and Harriet knew she wouldn’t see her again until it was time to order.

She quickly checked her phone again. A comment had appeared under the video.

“Breed the bitch” it read. She put her phone face down, offended. She didn’t approve of that kind of sexist language and the implication wasn’t something she wanted to think about. She had enjoyed reading the comments so far, but that was nasty. She decided not to look at it for the rest of the evening and enjoy the company of her friends. She went to the washing machine that had finished it’s cycle and transferred the contents to the dryer and turned it on.

She picked out a nice long dress for the evening and laid out some clothes for Andrew. He’d be home soon too.

She pottered about with the idea of getting ahead of herself in the morning. Once Andrew was home she made the pizza order for delivery and changed. They both crossed the road to Number 4, her eyes scanning the windows of Number 2 for any activity, Andrew mumbling about the state of the van.

They were welcomed into Number 4 by their hostess, Anne. Anne was in her late 40s and her husband Richard was in his early 60s. Other couples were there from Numbers 1 and 5. They were the little clique on the close, and considered themselves the local community. The family at Number 6 never joined these get togethers as they had younger children and didn’t like to involve childminders. Obviously Witness at Number 2 never received an invite.

Dinner was Pollo alla Pizzaiola. Harriet blushed as Andrew spoke highly of her sausage casserole from the previous evening. They all decided she should cook it again the next time she hosted. She protested that it was just a simple french peasant dish, and didn’t involve much preparing, but they were still keen to try it after Andrew’s glowing recommendation. He looked across the table and smiled at her. She felt dreadful.

After the meal it was drinks. Conversation inevitably turned to Witness, Number 4 was directly next door to him, and Richard always had a string of complaints in which the other couples eagerly joined in. The hateful language got worse and Harriet didn’t want to listen, so she moved away to look at some pictures on the wall whilst drinking her second glass of white wine.

Anne came to join her. “You’re in the program aren’t you?”

“Pardon?”, said a shocked Harriet suddenly looking very pale.

Anne lowered her voice, “The Witness Program. 22 of 22?”

Harriet didn’t reply, but looked around nervously.

“I was number 19”, she said, “Let’s go into the garden. She picked up another bottle of wine and led Harriet outside to some sheltered garden furniture where they could talk privately.

Harriet sat down and took another large gulp of wine. She picked up her phone and opened the gallery. Her picture was 1 of 22, but she knew it was ordered from the most recent entry. She counted backwards, 19 would be number 4, she thought about the coincidence with Anne’s house number as she opened the picture. Her face was hidden by the card sign, but it was definitely the woman who was sat in front of her smiling.

Harriet looked again at the gallery of pictures. “It’s like a harem”, she said.

“It is a harem, darling”, Anne spread her arms wide in the air in mock theatricality, “It’s white slavery”.

Harriet looked around in case anyone had heard, but they were still alone.

“We’re both part of his collection of snowbunnies”, Anne continued. She saw Harriet’s puzzled look. “Look again, they’re all white”.

Harriet suddenly realised it was true. She had noticed, but it hadn’t registered as she just thought of the women as normal.

“White and mostly married. I can see you’re familiar with the term Queen of Spades”, said Anne, looking at Harriet’s necklace. Harriet fingered it again before dropping it back into her cleavage, Anne saw her obvious embarrassment, looked around and raised a leg to the table and pulled back the hem of her dress. On a small chain around her ankle was her own spade charm. Harriet looked and giggled as Anne smiled back, lowering her leg.

“When?”, asked Harriet, raising her glass to her lips.

“Oh, not long after he arrived, about six weeks ago”, Anne replied.

“Did you deliver his mail?”

Anne looked at her strangely, “What you you mean?”

“Well how did you know?”

Anne laughed, “Well we do live right next door and Richard had told me to keep an eye on him. I was watching him working in his garden from my bedroom when he looked up and saw me. I thought I’d give him a little tease and flashed him my boobs”, she laughed again, “He waved me over and that, as they say, was that”.

Harriet looked at her wide eyed. She should have guessed. Anne was the cucumber lady after all. “So”, Harriet asked as she worked it out, “it lasts a week or so and then he moves onto someone else?”

“Oh no, although it’s been a couple of weeks since I last had the pleasure. He does have his favourites though”, she saw the worry on Harriet’s face, “Don’t worry, you’ll do ok for him”.

“How do you mean?”

“Well you’re the perfect type. White and married. Ok, you are maybe a touch older than they like, but you aren’t as past it as me. If you don’t mind me saying you are very beautiful, and slim, and I think you have a very powerful response if you get my meaning. He’ll do very well out of you, so he won’t drop you”.

Harriet suddenly realised that Anne must have seen her videos. She tried to disguise her horror at the thought. “What do you mean?”

“Money, darling, he’s making money out of you”.

“How?”, asked Harriet confused, she didn’t understand.

“Well you’d best ask him about that. Have you cheated on your husband before?”

“No, never”, Harriet responded quietly.

Anne’s tone changed from secret friend to motherly concern, “Oh you poor love. Talk about in at the deep end.”

Harriet felt a pricking in her eyes. Noticing the effect of her sympathy, Anne went back to her previous tone, “Well enjoy it while you’ve got it, I say”.

“Have you, you know, cheated on Richard before this?”, Harriet asked.

“Oh yes, lots. This was my first time blacked though”

“Does he know?”

“About some, yes. He’d murder me if he found out about Witness though. Some were people he knew. You can’t hide everything”. Anne saw Harriet’s sudden look, “Oh not Andrew”, she laughed, “Oh no. I don’t think he’d be on anybody’s radar, you don’t need to worry about him”.

That upset Harriet, not the reassurance of his faithfulness, but the disregard for him as a man, and Anne immediately regretted her words. This was the man Harriet loved, well had learnt to love over the years. She felt guilty that her initial attraction to him was purely money and status.

Harriet stood and picked up her glass. “I’d best get back to the party”, she said and walked away. Anne sat for a moment watching her leave, before she got up and followed.

Harriet made her way straight over to the group of men and leant against Andrew’s arm, smiling. He didn’t acknowledge her as he continued their conversation, but she stood by him, nodding and laughing at his jokes. When the time came to leave they said their goodbyes to everyone and thanked Anne and Richard for their hospitality. Anne watched, shaking her head as they left, Harriet taking Andrew’s hand in hers...

Although it was a brief walk across the close Harriet enjoyed the closeness to her husband, her hand in his. She resolutely resisted the temptation to look towards Number 2.

I’m tired she said as they closed the front door behind them.

“You go up”, said Andrew. I’ll check on the kids and be right with you”. She kissed him and went upstairs.

She prepared herself for bed and relaxed between the sheets. It had been quite a full day. She watched Andrew undress, but couldn’t stop herself comparing him to Witness as her eyes took in his body. Andrew climbed into bed and snuggled up close, moving his body slowly against hers.

There was no condom on the pillow. Harriet realised that this was a very unusual impromptu attempt to begin love making. She felt dirty and still felt very tender after that afternoon’s pounding. Moving slightly away from him she said “Sorry, I’m tired and have a headache”. Andrew grunted and rolled onto his side facing away from her. Harriet turned away from him and drew her legs right up to her chest and silently cried herself to sleep, curled up into a tight, little ball.