There's a flurry of air behind me, and then you're on me, dragging me by the hair into the kitchen, pinning me face down on the table, holding me there while you rip my skirt and panties down.
Not saying a word, you release me and walk out.
It's an illusion of freedom, designed to put me in my place. Why cry and carry on when I'd the opportunity to walk away whenever I wanted? You're so devious. You know me too well. You know there are elements of anticipation and excitement building in me as I wonder what depraved punishment you have in store.
I know the rules.
Stepping out of my panties, I spread my legs so wide that my buttocks are stretched apart, my muscles starting to ache, the strain on my body amplifying every hurt and ill you've already inflicted.
The house is cold and silent. The minutes tick away while I stand absolutely still with my genitalia on display, open and vulnerable, my cheek pressed against the table, waiting.
After what seems an eternity you return, cool and aloof, hiding something behind your back. Before I can guess what it is you penetrate me with your fingers, slipping so easily into me that I'm embarrassed and ashamed. I can protest all I want but my pussy doesn't lie.
Impaling me on your hand you tell me what a dirty mouth I have, what a wet little slut I am, a leech who wants to suck you dry. The whole world knows I'm a bad girl, a dirty whore, a nymphomaniac cunt who thinks too highly of herself . . . everything derogatory you can think of.
With your inventive mind the debasements are endless.
It destroys me to hear you call me filthy names, particularly while you're manipulating me, making me ooze into your palm, lending credence to your words. Gripping the table, I wriggle and squirm, humiliated, transported to the most soul-destroying recess in my mind.
Your fingers withdraw from me, replaced with the arctic burn of your nasty tool, the icy fullness of the steel dildo you made especially for me, crudely rammed into my snatch, right to the hilt. Every cruel node you adorned it with tortures my inner passage as you twist the evil thing inside me, leaving me painfully sensitised and breathless.
I wish you'd taped my mouth, anything to stop the strangled moans of longing and anguish that spill out of me. I want your cock, the real thing, you inside me, you fingering my clit, you making me explode, please Master, please god, pleeease.
As if you could care less what I want.
Wrenching my chin up, you slip your fingers into my mouth, smearing my slut juice all over my lips, forcing me to lick your hand clean while you're fucking me like a corkscrew with your evil toy. Just enough, just enough to bring me to the cliff and leave me hanging there before ripping the dildo out of me and deep-throating me with it.
I'm a sobbing, quivering mess when you throw the dildo aside and land the first deadly blow.
Oh my god, my god, my god, my fucking god, you have never been so pitiless, never hit me with something as vicious or sharp as metal. My head hits the table as your belt welts my skin, the buckle cutting into my bruised ass, the pain so acute that, in screaming, I bite my tongue, blood filling my mouth with a distinctive tang. You've taken to me with your open hand, your whip, but this...this is beyond pleasure or pain.
This is annihilation.
You flay me a second and a third time, and I'm shocked to realise that the choked, tortured sounds echoing off the walls in the kitchen are coming from me. My mind clears and I suddenly detest you with a passion I've never felt for my worst enemies, fueling my determination to never let you win.
It won't be me who calls a halt to this.
Rage sustains me through the following hit - only just - but the beating is too much. My body breaks into a cold sweat and my soul cracks wide open. Flinching away to avoid the next blow, I succeed only in ramming my pelvic bones into the table's edge, adding more contusions to my body and worst of all, elevating your wrath. How dare I try to ease my suffering?
Drawing your arm back as far as possible, your belt whistles through the air as you bring it down hard across my buttocks in the most despicable, inhumane stroke of them all.
It's over for me.
Slumping to the floor, my body and mind shrieking, I'm scarcely able to curl into a foetal ball, past knowing who I am, no longer caring what happens to me. Right now I would gladly face death and embrace oblivion, anything to evade the profound devastation you induce in me.
You look down at me, really look at me, an expression crossing your face that my hazed, confused brain can't comprehend.
It could be remorse for breaking your plaything.
It could be triumph.
Then you're on the floor with me, rolling me on to my back, pushing my limp legs aside as you run your tongue through my sopping pussy. My bodyweight presses down on my wounds, and I howl from the shock of it, but the tiles are cool and soothing, numbing my burning, bloody skin. My body is so overwrought I can see the poetry of your head between my legs but I can't feel your mouth. I cant feel a thing until your lips and teeth latch on to my clitoris.
That's all I need.
All the pent up emotions and the knife edge of frustration you've balanced me on for days, implodes inside me. Powerless, I thrust my hips into your face and let go, endlessly pulsing around your fingers wedged in my pussy, your tongue working its way into my ass as my spend goes on forever.
My total surrender sends you over the edge, flying into the abyss.
I can't believe you're hard again, hauling me on top of you, drilling your way into me with my pussy fighting to expel you. Holding me tight, you fuck me right through my climax, lifting me and slamming me down on your cock like a rag doll, my body anesthetised but my pussy on fire, my cries incoherent, close to madness. You're frenetic now, wrenching apart my blouse, buttons flying everywhere as you maul my tits, your hips levering up into me.
I can't escape you and I can't remember the reasons I wanted to. All that matters is that you're inside me, filling me up, out of control, just as much a slave as I am. Your loss of self revives me. Biting hard on your throat, sucking your neck, I claw at your back, leaving my own savage marks as you drive into me one last time, your body jerking in tandem with mine when you flood my tight passage with semen.
Collapsing against you, I fold my body into yours, reluctant to let you go as silence descends over us. Schizophrenic I know. A moment ago I wanted to leave you, maim you, die, but now I'm struck with the irrational necessity of keeping you close, dreading the moment when you withdraw from me in body, mind, and spirit. It's almost as if you've given up a secret part of yourself and you resent me for taking it.
This is the telling moment for me, the switch from craving sex to feeling used, full of despair, needy for approval, searching for some kind of meaning in all this because without it I'm left with utter emptiness.
For some reason I can't fathom, now is one of those rare moments when your cock fades away, but you, you are still with me. Helping me to my feet, you support me to the bedroom. I'm not used to consideration. It plays havoc with my head, but it's an implicit part of your charm, like lightning spearing through storm clouds.
Cautiously I crawl on the bed, easing myself down on my stomach, exhausted, my body flaming in agony. I've no spirit left to cry; I've already given you an ocean.
Handing me painkillers to swallow, you wash my injuries and salve my skin, rubbing my back to gentle me whenever you touch a tender spot. It stuns me that your comforting hands were capable of such barbaric treatment.
I don't know what you think or feel when you clean the six cuts where your belt buckle drew blood. Nor when you lift my hips off the bed and plunge your face between my legs, slowly lapping every drop of your own salty cum from me.
This simple act (if I wasn't so tired and sore), makes me yearn to have you back inside me all over again.
When I least expect it you brush my hair off my face and gift me the longest, sweetest kiss, finally letting me taste you, all of you. Your kiss is a silent communion: It's you underst
anding the ordeal you've put me through and just how deeply you value my capitulation.
I know your dirty little secret.
You're not as heartless as you pretend to be, and that, dear one, is why I keep coming back.
The End.
Fun with the Missus
"Get undressed," I tell her. She does as she's told, stripping with an economy of movement as she has done many times before. She is a tall, wide-hipped, big-breasted woman, carrying a couple of extra pounds, not beautiful but good-looking nonetheless. Once she is naked, she sits on the edge of the bed and extends her hands to me without having to be asked. I slip the elasticated wrist-bands onto her wrists to protect them from the cord that I then tie around them. She crosses her arms behind her back and I pass the ends of the cord around her torso, tying them firmly in a bow in front of her, pulling her wrists towards the front of her body, the cord digging deep into the flesh of her torso.
"Head up!" is my next order. She immediately complies. I take several photographs of her, instructing her to stand and to open her legs, to turn in profile to each side. She does as she is bid, impassively but promptly. She knows that obedience is of importance to us both. Finally, I instruct her to sit again.
I produce the sponge-rubber ball and she opens her mouth, again without being asked. My left hand goes behind her to support her head and neck as with my right hand, I compress the ball and force it into her mouth until it is behind her teeth. The ball is the size of a tennis-ball and quite firm, it is hard to compress, and once in her mouth it expands again making it very hard for her to make any sort of sound.
Now I wind the three-inch crepe bandage around her, starting behind her neck and coming forward to hold the ball in place, then around her neck again to anchor the bandage, then over the ball, and again. I then bring the bandage up above her nose to cover her eyes and then around behind her head, and around again. I wind the bandage around her head until the end of it is secured with a safety pin. Nothing of her head can be seen above her neck except for her nose and the hair on top of her head. I take two or three more photos.
She knows what to do and lies back on the bed, swinging her legs around and shuffling her body until she lies along the bed instead of across it. She spreads her legs, bending her knees. Her shaved pubis is exposed to me for me to do whatever I want with it. I cup her bare flesh with my hand, feeling her tremble with both desire and trepidation. I slip my middle finger into the folds of her vagina -- she is quite wet inside. I find the spreader bar and tie it to her knees, under them, so that she cannot close her legs even if she wants to. Her trembling increases slightly. She knows that I can do anything at all to her and that she can't prevent it. I snap away with my camera.
I set up the video camera on a tripod to record a good view of her pelvic region, then I start my evening's entertainment by anointing her labia with lubricant jelly. I slide a small beer bottle inside her vagina, just to "warm her up". This is the little stubby 25cl bottle, so not too big, and I insert it neck end first. It is fairly easy to do. She has had a lot of practice, after all. The bottle slides inside her until it vanishes completely and her labia close around the base. She doesn't make a sound.
"Push it out," I tell her, and obediently she makes the bottle emerge from her vagina until it drops into my waiting hand. I reinsert it, and get her to push it out again. We play this game for a few minutes, and I take more pictures. She knows I am videoing her, and does her best to play for the camera despite being tied almost immobile. When I sense that she is loosened up a little, I turn the bottle so that the base enters her first. This is nearly as easy as before and again, she is completely silent.
After a few more minutes of play, I select a larger bottle, 33cl, and again I use the neck end first. This is that little bit larger, and it doesn't quite fit entirely inside her vagina. I have to push quite firmly to make it go right inside so that her labia close over the base. She grunts and groans a little at this but is soon quiet again, her vagina stretching easily to accommodate the new toy. After about a dozen insertions and expulsions, she is taking the bottle without any extra effort required.
I swap ends of the bottle and insert the base into her. It is easy enough, she is stretched and loosened well by now. Her labia and clitoris are starting to appear reddened and slightly swollen and I think she is becoming aroused in spite of the discomfort she must feel from her bonds. I take a few more stills as I play with her vagina. She is performing well and I am pleased with her efforts and attitude. I tell her how beautiful her body looks and run my left hand across her shaved mons, caressing her clitoris with my thumb as I gently pump the bottle in and out of her. She moans and squirms, trying to rub herself against my thumb, but I move my hand away. She has yet to earn her orgasm.
By now, she is thoroughly aroused and I decide to change to the next size of bottle up, the 50cl size. As usual, I start with the neck end. There is a little resistance now, as this is harder for her to take, but of course she stretches without any problem. It is obviously uncomfortable for her, as she groans audibly, but I ignore her noise -- she will get used to it. Over the next five minutes or so, she does indeed get used to it. I have no trouble making the entire bottle enter her by now and her groans have changed to moans of arousal and her hips pump against the bottle as it is thrust into her.
I change to the blunt end, which is a little difficult for her, but I persevere and soon the base is inside her. I take a few more photos while I push the bottle into her time and time again. She's as ready as she'll ever be now, so I decide to use the milk bottle. At 57cl, it isn't much more in volume than the one she is already coping with, but it is shorter and quite a bit wider.
I have to push hard to get it inside her vagina, and it quite obviously hurts to judge by her groans and one or two squeals. It does go in, however, and once in, it moves in and out of her easily enough. She is stretched to her present limits by it and groans every time I push it against her cervix. Her labia bulge around the bottle, distending beautifully as the bottle leaves her vagina again. I run two fingers around the stretched ring of her flesh, glorying in the feel of her and in the knowledge that I can do everything I want with her.
Over the next fifteen minutes, I concentrate on stretching her deeper and deeper, until I can get her labia to start closing around the base of the bottle. They don't close completely but leave a narrow ellipse of glass visible, like curtains closing across a stage. They close enough to stop her being able to push the bottle out, though. She will need my help if she wants it removed. I continue to take pictures, and the video camera continues to run.
I feel that she has earned her orgasm by now, so I ask her if she'd like to come? She nods her agreement, so I start to massage her clitoris with my left thumb, bearing down quite hard. Over the years I have discovered that she likes it rougher rather than gentler, and the stretching has desensitised her too, so I rub hard, nearly mashing her clitoris against the glass. She starts to moan and her hips begin to buck, and within a minute she is convulsing in the grip of a powerful orgasm.
I allow her to recover for a couple of minutes before instructing her to push the bottle out. She tries her best but can't force the base past her labia which have partially closed around it. I watch her efforts for a few minutes, enjoying the way her vulva bulges outwards but never quite manages to part enough, and of course I take more pictures. Eventually I help her and with two fingers of each hand, spread her labia apart to allow the base of the bottle through. Once this is done, she has no difficulty in smoothly pushing the bottle out of her vagina for me to catch.
Of course, after this, her vulva is gaping open in invitation of something more. I spread fresh lubricant onto her waiting flesh, then over the knuckles of my right hand, purse my fingers into a "beak" and slowly insert my hand into her vagina. It is easier to do than the milk bottle was, as my hand is a better shape and a good deal more resilient than a glass bottle. My hand enters her all the way to the bracelets of my wrist,
without any difficulty or drama. She is quite sensitive after her orgasm, and moans gently. Once fully inside her, I rest without moving for a couple of minutes to allow her to get used to it a little. I take more shots.
I start to feel little spasms and flutterings from her vaginal muscles, so I decide she is probably ready for some action. I gently start to piston my hand in and out of her vagina, rotating and pushing, twisting and pulling. She seems to like this, as she bucks her hips and forces herself onto my fist as I push into her. I slowly increase the speed and depth of my thrusting and she rises to match me. Within two or three minutes she is shaking and spasming from another orgasm, her vagina gripping me tightly and relaxing, gripping and relaxing, as she comes forcefully. I don't dare take my hand out of her, despite the pain in my knuckles, as her grip is so tight I worry that I might tear her. It would be a real nuisance to have to wait weeks for her to heal.
She finally starts to relax and I risk pulling my hand from her vagina. I leave my fist clenched for this, stretching her out close to her limit. My hand slides free but her vagina doesn't close up much with a large hole remaining. I love to see her this way, swollen, stretched and open. I reinsert my clenched fist, then remove it, and repeat perhaps a dozen times. She is now so loose that this is almost effortless.
I am by now extremely excited and my erection is painful in my pants. I strip quickly to my skin, then remove the spreader bar from her knees. I grab a pillow and place it under her buttocks, and she hoists her pelvis into the air to help me achieve this. She spreads her legs for me and I lie down on top of her, guiding my penis into her waiting hole. She is beautifully loose, and I have no trouble penetrating her to the bottom. I can feel her cervix rubbing against my glans. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me even deeper into her. I grasp her full left breast with my right hand, squeezing it harshly, digging my fingers into her. Within seconds, we are both rocked by orgasms to remember...
Climax Taboo Erotic Collection Page 70
