by Lexie Syrah
Paul’s moans had grown louder as he began to wake up. His hands moved to the back of my head. He had always loved to play with my hair while I gave him head, but this time he didn’t play with my hair. I began to choke and gag as he pulled my head onto his cock. He was trying to make me deepthroat it, but everything was at the wrong angle.
“Take it down your filthy throat, whore, or I will choke you until you pass out.”
I tried to calm down so that my throat would relax, and it slipped down far enough to make me cough even more as my gag reflex took over. He pulled me off of his shaft and drool dripped from my lips onto his cock while he stroked himself.
His strong hands pulled me back down onto his shaft, forcing it down my throat once again. This time he managed to bury himself to the hilt in my throat and my stomach started to heave, trying to dislodge the cock that was blocking my airway. The coughing and gagging had more tears rolling down my cheeks, destroying the beautiful makeup that I had worn while David pounded me relentlessly, and Paul waited at home. Finally, Paul let me up for a breath of air, and he stroked his cock before shooting his load all over my face. I closed my eyes just in time to keep the warm goo from burning them. Volley after volley of cum covered me as Paul exacted more revenge on me for my adultery.
After he had taken a few breaths, he shoved my face down on shrinking cock. “Clean it up,” was his simple demand, and I sucked and licked and cleaned him until there was not a bit of cum or throat slime left on him.
The taste of his cum would stay in my mouth until I was finally released from my servitude and was allowed to cleanse myself of all of it. I had no idea what I was going to do about the cum that was dripping down my face. I wasn’t allowed to shower, but at this point I couldn’t see because the cum was starting to dry over my eyelids, locking them closed.
“Paul, I can’t see, and I have to pee really badly. Can I please have something to clean my face?”
He laughed and said, “Figure it out, but if you put water on your face, I’m going to shove my fist into your asshole.”
I could feel him get off of the bed to go pee. The only thing I could do was stumble to the bathroom by my sense of feeling and my memory of how to get there. It took almost five minutes to get the 20 feet to the bathroom and on my way there, I hit my shin on a chair leg. I knew that Paul was watching me with a sadistic humor, enjoying my struggle and pain. I finally found the toilet and sat down with a minimal amount of difficulty. I sighed with relief as I finally gave my bladder relief, happy that I hadn’t pissed all over myself when Paul was shoving his cock down my throat.
I reached over for the toilet paper and realized that there was almost none left. I had to make a decision, wipe my pussy or clean my eyes so that I could see. I pulled the few pieces of toilet paper off of the roll and wiped my eyes, managing to get enough off so that I could open them again.
I could feel the dried cum all over my face and on my breasts from where it had dripped on my long walk to the restroom. A filthy whore stared back at me from the mirror. My makeup had smeared from the tears and cum, my eyes were bloodshot, and my hair was a complete mess from where Paul had used it as a handhold.
I could feel the dried cum on my butt cheeks and thighs that had leaked out of my asshole last night. And this was only after a night and morning. By the end of the weekend, I wasn’t going to be recognizable. A tear ran down the path the makeup had left as I accepted my fate. I stood up straight, feeling the drops of pee run down my leg, and walked out of the bathroom.
Paul was sitting naked at the dining table, reading the news on his tablet.
“Cook me some eggs and bacon, slut. And bring me a stick of butter with the bacon and eggs.”
“Yes sir,” was all I said to him.
I don’t know why, but the thought of leaving never entered my mind. I wasn’t thinking of him divorcing me or how I was trying to earn his trust again. I was simply doing what was commanded of me. Maybe I was broken, or maybe I was just naturally submissive, and it took me cheating to make him the dominant man that I needed. Psychology was never my strong point, but for some reason, when he commanded, I simply did it without considering any other option.
I cooked the bacon and eggs, painfully burning my breasts and stomach from the popping grease. One especially dangerous grease pop landed on my nipple and made me cringe in pain. I made our plates and retrieved the stick of butter as he requested. When I set his plate and the butter down in front of him, I went to sit in the chair next to him, but before I could sit down on the wooden chair, he handed the stick of butter back to me.
“Put it in your ass. All of it.”
I stared at him before starting to cry. He never even looked up as I unwrapped the cold stick of butter. I put my foot on my chair to get a better angle as I tried to shove the butter up my ass, but it wouldn’t fit because of its square face and because my ass had never taken even a finger until last night.
After several minutes, Paul looked up to see me still struggling with it and he stood up, bent me over the chair and with a quick movement shoved it all the way into my ass as I gasped in shock as the cold radiated out. My knuckles were white as I gripped the chair, trying not to collapse. I was so full and so cold. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. My body was shaking as the cold seeped into my bones.
“Sit down and eat your breakfast. You don’t want to let it get cold.”
He chuckled at the pun he’d made. I sat down, shivering and feeling my asshole clenching to make sure that the butter didn’t leak out. I slowly ate my food, glad to have the added warmth from it, however, the little bit of comfort that it was. Where did this thought even come from? Did it turn him on for me to sit at the table with a stick of butter up my ass? Or was it just that he wanted me never to know what punishment was coming next?
After my breakfast was done, I asked,
“What would you like me to do next, Sir?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of alligator nipple clamps connected with silver chain.
“Wear these while you do your daily cleaning,” he said as he sat them down next to my empty plate.
I put them on my already hard nipples and felt their steady and slightly painful pressure. Between the butter in my ass and the new nipple clamps, my pussy was going crazy. How was I horny when my husband was trying his best to make me miserable? What in the hell was wrong with me?
I asked, “May I take the butter out, Sir?”
There was no way I could clean anything while trying to hold the butter in me now that it had warmed up, and I assume melted since the pressure was not very great now. He pulled a small 3” long butt plug out of his pocket and put it where he’d placed the nipple clamps.
“You can shit the butter out, but you need to replace it with the plug.”
All of this happened, and he never even looked up from his tablet as though he didn’t care about it at all.
I stood up, having trouble keeping the liquid butter from leaking, and went to the bathroom, butt plug in hand. I got some toilet paper from the cabinet before sitting down. I let the butter out of my ass while I was on the toilet, glad that I hadn’t made a mess anywhere. When I put the plug in my ass, I felt completely full.
Between the nipple clamps and the plug, I would have a hard time concentrating on the work I had to do. My husband had done all of the things that I’d wanted him to do for so long, but I still hadn’t cum yet. When I combined my need to cum with the constant foreign sensations from the toys, it was like I was a ticking orgasm time bomb.
I went to work like I was supposed to. I cleaned up breakfast and made our bed while Paul did research for his company. I started some laundry and did a little bit of dusting until about 2:00 pm. The toys were beginning to become painful when Paul called me into the living room. He took the nipple clamps off of me and pulled the butt plug out of my ass.
“How are you feeling? Are my tasks too difficult for you?” he asked with sincere
concern for my well-being.
“I’m in a lot of pain, but that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I said with my eyes downcast.
I hoped that he wouldn’t be as hard on me, but I knew that I’d messed things up and was willing to suffer the punishment.
“Yes it is, and since you aren’t begging me to be easier to you, I must not be treating you badly enough. You’re uncomfortable right now, but you’re going to be absolutely miserable, and I want you to understand that right now.”
“Yes sir, I will accept whatever punishments you decide to give me. I hurt you, and you should hurt me back. Maybe then we can go back to the way things used to be.”
My mind had been made up since the beginning. It didn’t matter how horrible he was to me; I would survive for another day and a half.
“Things will never go back to the way they used to. You’re always going to be a slut, but I may take you back as my slut if you survive the next day and a half.”
I didn’t answer. I just bowed my head and waited for his command.
He got up, and I heard him drag something into the house from the garage. It was some kind of metal medieval torture contraption.
“This is a set of stocks that I bought while you were fucking David. Your head goes here, your legs go here, and your arms go here,” he said pointing at the five holes.
“I’m going to lock you in this and abuse you while I watch porn. You can scream and yell all you want. But if you cum, I will beat your ass 20 times with my belt.”
I bent over to place my neck, legs and hands in the holes for Paul to lock me in place. I was facing the 60” TV in our living room when he navigated to some porn website where women were locked into stocks and were beaten, whipped and penetrated with all manner of things and by numerous people. Their bodies were covered with red marks and bruises from their feet to their faces. Was this what he was going to do to me? Did he just want to beat me?
Paul was behind me while I watched the video. I could hear him stroking his cock while a woman on the TV was hit in the breast with a cane. She was crying and screaming, and Paul was actually getting off to it. But then I felt the fluid run from my pussy down my thigh. I couldn’t believe that I was turned on by it too.
How could I be turned on watching a woman get tortured while I knew I was about to be tortured as well? Now that I’d realized how turned on I was, I couldn’t help but focus on how badly I wanted to cum, but Paul had said that he’d spank me if I came.
Paul’s hand coming down hard on my hanging breast interrupted my thoughts. I tried to jerk away but couldn’t move more than an inch or two away. He reached down and pulled my nipple until I felt like it was about to rip from my body. I cried buckets of tears as he continued to abuse both of my nipples. I’d stopped screaming and was merely crying and begging him to stop. He finally did as the movie changed to one where the woman wasn’t getting beaten. Her face was the same height as me, directly at crotch level for Paul. He mimicked the man on the television and placed his cock into my mouth.
Unlike this morning, I was perfectly positioned to deepthroat him now. It slid in and out over and over again. I gagged and coughed, but it wasn’t anywhere nearly as hard on me as this morning. Then he stuck his cock all the way in my throat. My lips were butted up against his pubic bone, and I was choking. Drool was falling from my face as he began to grind against my face like I would grind on his cock if I were on top of him.
My stomach heaved, and I could feel my breakfast trying to come up, but it couldn’t get past his cock, and so I swallowed it back down. I was losing consciousness when he finally pulled out and I coughed up what seemed like buckets of throat slime before finally catching a breath.
He stood in front of me and used the throat slime as lube as he stroked his cock. He walked around behind me and stuck his cock into my ass. It was on fire again, but I’d become slightly more accustomed to having my back passage used. The constant use had made it raw, but it was well lubed up from the residual butter and throat slime that coated his cock.
He didn’t pound me like an animal, it was almost a lazy fuck—like he was bored and just wanted something warm and wet to cover him. He might not have been close to cumming, but I was riding an edge. It didn’t make any sense to me, but at that point, the only things I wanted was for him to pound my ass and to beat me. I wanted to be used so that I could finally cum, but he wouldn’t move enough to push me over the edge.
“Please sir, please fuck my ass hard. I need to cum, and if you need to beat me afterward, it will be worth it. Please use me like the filthy whore I am. I am going to explode if I don’t get to cum soon. My pussy needs release!”
I pled with the cruel man who I had called husband only yesterday.
“If you want to cum, I’ll make you cum,” he said with a chuckle at the whore in the stocks before him.
He pulled his cock out of my ass with a popping noise and returned to put it in my mouth. I greedily sucked the filthy cock, and I felt the belt flash down on my ass again and again as he steadily increased the speed that he fucked my throat and the speed that he beat my ass. My tears had been replaced with moans of pleasure, and he reached down to pull my nipple. My moans turned into a muffled orgasm as my silky pussy juice flooded down my legs. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and returned to my overly sensitive cunt.
He pounded me like an animal and every time his balls slapped against my clit, my body jumped. He continued his harsh pounding until I came again, finally bringing him over the edge. He pulled out of me and released me from the stocks.
He drug me back to the bedroom by the hair. He laid down under the blankets and told me, “Lay down and put my cock in your mouth. I want you to fall asleep like that. Do not try to make me cum, and don’t take me out of your mouth until I tell you to.”
I did as he said, and I suckled his cock while I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming a dream of chains and whips. There were few visual memories, but the emotions of pain, sexual hunger, and pure ecstasy stayed with me even upon waking.
I woke to him slowly humping my face, his cock hard and his hands in my hair once more. He was awake but wasn’t trying to orgasm, just enjoying the feeling of my warm and wet mouth around his member.
When he realized that I’d awakened, he pulled me off of him and got out of bed. I looked at the clock and realized that it was 7:00. There was no way I would be able to make dinner.
“Sir, it’s too late to start dinner unless you’d like to eat at around 9:00. Would you like me to start it now or would you rather order out?”
“We’ll get Chinese tonight. I’ll make the order.”
He quickly pulled up the restaurant on his phone and dialed the number.
As the phone rang on the other side, he said, “Turn around and show me your pussy.”
I turned, displaying my swollen and filthy cunt to him. There was dried cum and pussy juice all over my ass and legs, and I’m sure that the smell was horrendous. I hadn’t dared to look at myself in the mirror since this morning. Paul shoved three fingers into my cunt and roughly began to stretch me out as he made the simple order over the phone. It felt so good to have his fingers in my cunt while he was on the phone, and I felt full but not painfully so. It was the first time I’d felt pure pleasure since I’d become his slut—let me rephrase that, a slut he was using; I had to earn the title his slut.
I wished that this moment could last longer, but I knew that it wouldn’t.
As soon as he put the phone down, he told me, “You should put a robe on so that you can pay for the food.”
Wordlessly, I moved away from his magic fingers so that I could put on a robe. I couldn’t imagine how much things had changed in the last 24 hours. Yesterday, he wouldn’t have been able to force me to open the door looking like this, and now I was doing it without a complaint. In fact, there was a part of me that desperately wanted the world to know how big of a whore I was.
After 20 minutes of waiting on the couch, the doorbe
ll rang, and I went to open it, but before I got there, Paul said, “If you can make him cum in the next 10 minutes I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the night other than your spanking. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of the evening miserable.”
He wanted me to make this delivery boy cum? How did he expect me to do that? I had no idea how I was supposed to do that, but I was willing to try. I desperately wanted some relief from pain and misery, but more importantly, I wanted to make Paul happy with me. I opened the door to pay for the food and saw a young man in his early 20’s. His eyes widened, and jaw dropped when he saw the dirty whore that opened the door in just a silk robe.
