“Interlude: Heather”
By Burke
Feedback to: burke620@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This contains material of an adult nature, and as such,
should not be viewed, downloaded or posessed by anyone under the
appropriate age in whatever jurisdiction this file is accessed from.
Classification: Mdom/Fsub, oral, anal, nc?, rom, preg
----
The phone rang, startling Heather out of her reverie. Without
looking, she reached over, punched the incoming line button and
lifted the receiver to her ear. "Heather Sand....Clark, AJ &
Associates," she said, grimacing as she stumbled over her new
name once again.
Heather Clark, she thought, and smiled.
"Hello, my little slut," the voice on the other end of the
phone whispered.
Heather felt herself get wet instantly. It was her husband, and
he was in a playful mood.
"Hello," she said deferentially, wondering what deliciously
naughty, dirty thing he was planning.
"How has your day been?"
"Fine," she said, impatient, eager to get started.
"I took your vibrator out of the locked cabinet and put it in
your bedside table drawer. I want you to stop whatever you are
doing, take the phone off the hook and go into the bedroom. Put
on the black slip and the black silk G-string. Begin
masturbating, but do not cum. When I come home, I will honk the
horn. You are to be waiting for me on your knees in the front
hall." His voice was strong, commanding, brooking no argument or
disagreement. Heather felt her spine melting as his tone, and his
instructions.
"Ok," she said softly, reaching a hand between her legs and
stroking her through her jeans.
"Do you know how I want you to present yourself to me?" he
asked.
She nodded. "I do." And she did.
"Go," Mark said, and hung up.
+++++
Heather all but ran into the bedroom, tearing open the top
drawer in her bedside table. There it sat, her industrial-
strength vibrator. She tossed it onto the bed and moved towards
the closet, undressing quickly. She found the articles of
clothing that Mark wanted her to wear and quickly put them on.
Flopping back onto the bed, she quickly plugged the vibrator in
and went to work. She tried to imagine what her inventive husband
had dreamed up this time, and instead of wasting time trying to
guess, Heather concentrated her attentions on things that had
already happened between them.
In her mind, she saw Mark standing over her, his legs spread,
his hands on his hips as she knelt before him, her wet, hot mouth
moving up and down his rigid cock. His cock was so beautiful, she
thought, hard and strong. And he could six, seven, eight
times in a day. He wanted her so much, all the time. Wanted her
naked and slutty and submissive, wanted her waiting for him,
masturbating, getting ready to get taken, fucked, used.
The words ran through Heather's mind over and over again. In
addition to being a clever and inventive lover, a dominant master
she craved serving, Mark had a muscular, dirty vocabulary, a way
of describing her or the actions she undertook at his behest in
such a way that it made her gush with lubrication as she
imagined what she must look like, being her husband's complete
and utter slut.
And I am his slut, Heather though to herself as she brought the
vibrator against her panty-clad cunt. The jerk of pleasure was
immediate, and she happily sank into a haze of sexually-charged
memories, eagerly remember-ing all the times he had completely
dominated her, the times he had used her, demanded that she
perform some nasty sexual act for his pleasure. She remembered
the times he had casually ordered her to dress a certain way for
him, to turn him on, to excite him. She also remembered the few
times she had resisted him, out of tiredness, crankiness, or pure
spite. And those times, he had taken her, taken her into the
bedroom, handcuffed her behind her back and forced Heather to
crouch on all fours while he licked her asshole, something she
craved and detested at the same time. The entire time his wet,
talented tongue was scraping against her most sensitive of holes,
he would exhort her to beg for it, beg him to lick her ass, and
when she wouldn't, when she refused, he'd threaten to fuck her
tiny asshole, something Heather knew her tiny, tight little
asshole could never stand.
He's so fucking...thick... Heather thought dreamily,
remembering for the thousandth time the huge girth of her
husband's cock. It was and smooth and so fucking hard all
the time. She knew that he had lost his virginity at the
relatively late age of 27, and it seemed that he was making up
for lost time.
Quite well, as it turned out.
As Heather headed for an orgasm she didn't have permission to
experience, she slid deeper into the haze of sexual satisfaction
and anticipation that filled her every waking moment.
+++++
Driving home, Mark whistled to himself as he imagined the scene
in his bedroom. His beautiful, sexy Heather flat on her
back, her legs spread lewdly wide, going to town on that talented
little of hers with the vibrator. He knew that she would
not without his express permission, and if she did, he also
knew that his would fall to her knees at his feet and
confess her "crime," eager to see what "punishment" he would
dream up as a corrective action.
Mark completely and utterly sexually dominated his wife, and he
had never been happy. Heather was his, his property, his slut,
his whore. Or, as he affectionately called her from time to time,
his personal receptacle. Such words and ideas and concepts
were exciting to the both of them. Mark felt his cock grow harder
as he slipped deeper into his dominant personality. He was
looking forward to emptying his balls into or onto his slut. She
was always so eager to accept his cum, to honor it, to thank him
for the privilege of being his slut.
And it was a privilege, he knew. He understood what it meant,
what the relationship was about.
Trust.
Trust, openness, communication and honesty.
And sex.
Hot, nasty, dominant and submissive sex.
My wife, he thought with a smile, thinking about her beautiful
face, her gorgeous eyes. His mind drifted, and he thought about
her body. Tan and slim and soft. Tan all over, except for her
tiny and her pelvis. She looked so beautiful naked, with
her legs spread wide, with that ready and eager expression on her
face when every cell of her body ached for him to fuck her, to
use her, to rape her, to unload his precious, life-giving seed
inside of her. She was his to do with as he pleased, and it
pleased Mark greatly to fuck his often, to use her body for
his pleasure, to force her to suck his cock, lick his balls, and
to take his copious of creamy on her face or tits.
Glancing in the rearview mirror for any untoward cops, Mark
pressed the gas pedal down, eager to get home to his house, his
wife...
My slut.
+++++
Heather was gasping with excitement when she heard the horn
blatt! three times. She took a deep breath and reviewed what her
husband had taught her about being slutty for him. She put the
vibrator aside but didn't comb her hair. She hesitated as she
passed the bathroom, wondering if she should risk straightening
herself just a little. But he had been clear, time and time
again: He wanted her to look slutty, used, sexy, as if she had
just finished masturbating that moment. Which she had. Without
looking in the mirror, Heather knew what she looked like.
A hot slut.
She gasped with the implications of those words rushing through
her mind, and hurried to the front hall. She kneeled down and
tried to look appropriately slutty, and then remembered at the
last minute how much her husband loved her breasts. Reaching
inside the silky top, Heather scooped her out and lay
them on top of the material. Her nipples were hard. She could
feel the gush of lubrication in the crotch panel of her
panties, and the memories of what she had been fantasizing about
only moments ago mixed in her head with the tingling anticipation
she felt over her entire body.
Hurry, she thought. Oh, God, please hurry!
+++++
Mark took his time, putting the CD he'd been listening to back
into its jewel case and straightening the rest of the truck's cab
so it would be ready for his morning commute. He knew his wife;
she was in the front hallway as he'd ordered, on her knees, her
tits out for his inspection and approval. He was making a
decision while making her wait. In her mouth? On her face? On her
tits? He had so many wonderful choices for targets when it was
time to cum. She loved to drink his because she knew how much
it excited and satisfied him, but he didn't want to spoil her or
anything. A proper slut learns over time that her wants, her
desires, her expectations are all for naught. The true, the
proper slut knows that her man's satisfaction is all that is
important, and in some kind of psuedosexual-emotional symbiosis,
she derives her pleasure from knowing that she has pleased her
man, her husband.
He got out and locked the truck, then turned and walked up to
his house. He glanced around to make sure that no one was in
sight, and then walked in the front door.
To find his beautiful, sexy Heather on her knees in the
front hallway, looking at the carpet in front of her.
"Hello, slut," he said casually. "You look wonderful."
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Did you cum?" he asked gently.
"N-no," she whispered.
That sounds...fishy, he thought.
Stepping close to her, Mark reached down and found her chin
with his fingers. Tilting her face up to his he said, "Did you?"
Heather looked away. "Sort of..."
"Sort of?" he asked sharply, turning her face back to his.
"What does that mean, `sort of'?"
"Well, it wasn't a big bang...but...something happened."
Mark smiled to himself, knowing what Heather did not: She was
approaching the ability to teach her body how to become
multiorgasmic. Good, he thought. Very good indeed.
"So," he said, "you came without my permission, is that it? Not
only without my permission, but against my express orders."
Looking miserable, Heather nodded.
"I should fuck that little asshole of yours," Mark said idly,
dropping her chin and moving past her. "I should take you into
the bedroom, handcuff you, turn you on all fours and then slam my
cock inside that asshole of yours. Maybe THAT will finally give
me the obedience I expect from my slut."
"No, please," Heather whispered. "Please don't fuck my
asshole."
Mark smiled. She was learning. A good slut always does what her
man tells her, and Mark had long ago patiently explained to his
slut that referring to her anus as her "ass" was not acceptable.
It was her asshole, and she was always to refer to it that way.
Mark hummed as he undressed in the bedroom, neatly putting his
clothes away before returning to the front hall. Heather was
where he had left her, still staring at the floor.
"You don't want to get asshole-fucked?" he asked.
"No, I don't," Heather whispered, trembling.
Mark sighed. "And what do we say about what you want?"
"It...doesn't matter...what I want," Heather whispered.
"That's right!" Mark said cheerfully. He glanced down at his
wife, a warm, loving smile on his face. "You're my slut, and you
do what I want, don't you?"
Heather nodded, her eyelids fluttering as his words washed over
her. I do what he wants. I'm here for him, for his pleasure, his
use. I'm his. He owns me. Body and soul.
"Don't you?" Mark asked again, prompting her.
"Yes, I do. I mean, I am. I mean..."
He smiled again. "I know what you mean, slut."
Heather's eyes raised from the carpet to see Mark's cock
staring her in the face. It was hard and smooth, and she felt
herself begin to salivate. God, I want that in my mouth, she
thought.
"But I want you to say it," he continued softly, almost
happily.
He's really enjoying this, Heather thought, and was immensely
pleased by that fact.
"It doesn't matter what I want," she said earnestly. "I'm here
for you. For you to use. Please, Mark, I want you to use me. Let
me please you...please!"
He nodded, accepting her words, letting the rush of power wash
over him. He knew she meant every last word.
"Kiss my cock," he said.
Heather lunged at him, her mouth opening, wanting to
it, it all, it whole, wanting to feel it in her
mouth, thrusting back and forth, weighing heavily on her tongue,
wanting the taste of it, the smell of it to engulf her.
A fraction of an inch before his cock would have entered her
mouth, Heather felt her head being jerked back by the hair.
Stunned, she looked up at her husband in confusion.
"W-whaaat?"
"I said kiss it, slut. Not suck it."
Chastised, Heather lowered her eyes. He had said to kiss it,
and in her eagerness, her sluttishness, she had wanted more,
wanted it all. A small, prideful part of her knew how much
pleasure her dominant husband got from her patented wet, messy,
sloppy blowjobs, and her submissive soul craved the sounds he
made when her talented, experienced cocksucker's mouth was
expertly moving up and down his rod.
But what I want isn't important, a small voice reminded her.
Pursing her lips, she dutifully kissed the end of Mark's cock.
"Very good. I guess you can follow instructions."
Heather flushed, angry at herself for disappointing him.
"Stick out your tongue," he commanded gently.
Heather did as bade, opening her mouth and sticking out her
tongue. Mark carefully rested his cock on the very tip of it. He
took his hands away and smiled down at her, waiting to see how
long she could stand it. He knew the hot, smooth weight of his
cock on her tongue would arouse her, and coupled with the
feelings she was getting from being so submissive, so slutty,
down on her knees in front of him, holding her mouth and tongue
like that, the same mouth that desperately wanted to his
cock whole.
Heather waited patiently, feeling the saliva pooling in her
mouth at the taste of her husband's cock.
Mark waited just as patiently.
Her saliva was gathering, and Heather didn't know how much
longer she could keep this position. She had to close her mouth
to swallow, and if she did that, she would displease him.
I don't want to displease him. I live to please him.
Fuck it, she decided.
She felt the long, wet strings of saliva oozing out of her
mouth and down her chin.
God, I must look like such a slut, she thought, and the idea
excited her, but only because she knew it would excite him.
Mark stared at the image before him: His beautiful, slutty,
submissive wife, wearing a silky black slip, her popped
out of the top, a tight G-string gently cupping her gushing cunt,
her mouth open, tongue out, his cock resting on the very tip,
with long streams of gooey saliva dripping out of her mouth, only
to land on her breasts.
"Oh, suck me you whore!" Mark cried, his hands coming down on
Heather's head, pushing her face, hard, against his cock. Heather
eagerly gulped his cock into her face, her own hands coming up to
find her husband's ass, using it as a lever, pulling his cock
into her mouth. She felt the fat knob hit her in the back of the
throat and she groaned, low and deep, around his invading meat.
"That feels so fuckin' good," Mark moaned, rotating his hips.
"Ooooh, yeah, do that. Just like that, Heather. Just like
that..."
Proud of her cocksucking abilities, Heather went to work. She
pooled all the saliva she could muster in her mouth and slowly
slid his cock in and out, getting it wet and drippy. At one time,
earlier in the relationship, she'd been ashamed of doing it this
way. Uncomfortable, embarrassed to make such a mess. But Mark had
been patient and demanding at the same time. His slut would do as
she was told, always, without question or reservation. Only later
did Heather come to understand why he did things that way, why it
seemed as though he went out of his way to discover things that
made her uncomfortable, and then made her do them anyway.
He wasn't sadistic, she knew that. He took no special glee in
some of the acts themselves, just in the submission they
signaled. By doing what he told her to, over and over again, by
slowly learning to obey without question, Mark was proving over
and over again that she could trust him completely. He would
never her. Never. And that freedom allowed Heather to
express that part of her soul, that dark river of her heart where
the slut lived.
And she loved him for it. Adored him, worshipped him. She had
given herself completely to him, as she had never given herself
to another. In the bedroom, she would live and die for his
pleasure. His use. She was a complete and utter sex goddess to
him. Even now, as he was forcefully fucking her mouth with his
cock, Heather knew in the deepest part of her soul that Mark
cherished her, that he worshipped the ground she walked (or
knelt,) on.
"That's my good little cocksucker," he crooned. "Do you like
sucking my cock?"
Heather nodded around his meat, unwilling to take it out of her
mouth. She braced herself, knowing what was coming next, unable
to stop it, not wanting to stop it. She felt his fingers tangling
in her hair, and a moment later he yanked her mouth off his cock,
tilting her face up to his.
"I asked you a fucking question!" he snapped.
"Y-yes," she said, gasping for breath, feeling her nipples
tingling at his strength over her, his command of her. "I love
sucking your cock."
"That's better," he said, only slightly mollified.
She went back to work the moment he released her head. Mark put
his hands on his hips and threw his head back, losing himself in
the sensation of Heather's mouth fellating him. It felt so good,
so powerful to use her this way, to fuck her this way. At moments
like this, when he was deep inside his dominant role over her,
Heather was just a to be fucked, was nothing more than a
receptacle to him, and he reveled in the feeling of having such a
beautiful target to call his own.
"Mmm, you do such a good job my cock," he whispered.
"Such a good little cocksucker." He reached down and patted her
on the head, and Heather felt a jolt of electricity zapping
through her body.
I'm pleasing him! she thought, excited beyond belief.
He began to pump his cock in and out of her mouth, varying the
speed and stroke, throwing her off. Frustrated, Heather reached
out to steady his body with her hands.
Big mistake, she thought a moment later. His wrists knocked her
hands off his body, and he grasped her entire head with two of
his massive hands. "I decide the speed, slut. I decide how fast I
want to fuck your mouth. Now be a good little slut, kneel there
and take my fucking cock!"
Heather groaned as Mark held her face exactly how he wanted it,
his hips gently but powerfully thrusting his cock in and out of
her mouth. She tried to use her tongue to excite him, but soon
gave up. She gave up the moment she realized what he wanted, and
the fact of what he wanted turned her on all the more. She felt
her tightening around nothing at all, aching for
penetration.
He just wants to use my head to fuck. Like a cunt. He just
wants to fuck my face like a cunt.
Heather snorted through her nose, feeling her excitement climb
another notch. She felt like she was on a hair trigger; her
masturbatory activity had brought her to the brink of release,
and now the she loved above all others was treating her
exactly the way she craved being treated: Like his personal
little cocksucking whore.
"Touch yourself," Mark commanded casually.
Heather, silently grateful that he had given her permission to
pleasure herself, dropped her hands between her legs and began
rubbing her overheated pussy. She moved the crotch of the
to the side and slid one slim finger inside her tight, wet
and groaned around Mark's cock, something else she knew he loved.
A moment later his beautiful, hard cock was again ripped from
her mouth, and again she felt his fingers in her hair,
tightening, yanking her head up to look at him. "I didn't say
fuck yourself, slut! I told you to touch yourself! Get your
fingers out of my cunt!"
Heather shivered; she loved it when he referred to her body as
his property.
It's true. It is his .I've given it to him.
"I'm sorry," she said, meaning it.
His face softened. He could see the dismay etched on her face
at the thought of displeasing him.
"You're doing a wonderful job being a mouth-cunt, Heather," he
said hopefully, trying to cheer her up.
It worked.
I'm being a good mouth-cunt! Heather thought, smiling.
"Really?"
"Very good," Mark said, nodding. When he spoke again, his voice
was gentle, but had an edge of steel to it. "Now get your fucking
fingers out of my fucking cunt, and do what the fuck I tell you,
ok?"
She nodded, and then said, "Ok."
"Or," Mark continued, "I will take you in the bedroom, tie that
gorgeous body of yours to the bed and fuck your little asshole.
And with the rate you're disobeying me tonight, I might not take
the fucking time to lubricate you properly, slut! I may just
shove my cock right up your ass dry!"
Heather shuddered and pulled her fingers out of her husband's
cunt.
My husband's cunt, she thought, and shivered.
"Please, I'll be good," she whispered. She tipped her head back
and opened her mouth, showing the wet cavity, the wet,
hole to her husband. She held the pose for a moment and then
closed her mouth, speaking softly, submissively, sluttily.
"Please, use my mouth. Use my mouth to fuck, sweetie. Please fuck
my face."
Mark nodded at her contriteness. "Very well. You may touch
yourself, but I do not want to see any part of your body enter my
cunt. Is that understood?"
Heather already had his cock back in her mouth and was moving
her head up and down, trying to apply as much moisture as
possible to his rigid pole. She popped him out of her mouth and
stroked his cock with one hand, squeezing tightly, applying just
the right amount of pressure to the ridge, the most sensitive
part of his beautiful penis.
"Yes, I understand. It's your cunt, all yours. I won't put
anything in it, I swear."
"Drop your hands," Mark said, and Heather released his cock.
"Open your mouth," he said again. Heather did as instructed.
Mark held her head in both of his hands, positioning her just
the way he liked. Then, grinning, he stepped forward, bending
Heather back, stretching her spine. She was trapped by his
weight, his size, and could do nothing when he shoved his cock
into her mouth again, gently but firmly fucking her face.
Trapped, she thought. All I can do is kneel here and take it,
take his fucking cock in my slut mouth, take his cock, his
delicious cock. Take it Heather! Take it! She idly wished that
her husband would speak like that to her more often.
As of reading her mind, Mark began a monologue as he fucked her
mouth-cunt. "This is what you're best at, my love...my slut.
Taking my cock into your holes....into my holes, excuse me,
taking my cock into your holes and giving me pleasure." His
strokes remained steady as he fucked Heather's wet mouth. "This
is what you are for, lover. Taking my cock." He smiled down at
her, and Heather tried to smile back. "Take it," he insisted,
shoving a little harder. "Take my fucking cock!" he bellowed,
pushing his entire meat into her face and holding it there.
Heather could feel the head of his cock pushing at the back of
her throat and she swallowed, knowing the muscular action would
arouse and excite him.
And then she bit him. Not hard, but she felt her teeth scrape
the sensitive skin of his cock.
Oh, no! she thought.
A moment later Mark stepped back and pulled his cock from her
mouth. His own mouth was set in a thin, grim line.
"You bit me," he chided softly, stroking his cock. His fingers
made slick, liquid squelching noises in the saliva on his cock.
Heather opened her mouth to apologize.
"Be quiet," he hissed.
Stepping forward again, Mark rubbed his cock all over Heather's
face, making her skin wet with saliva and precum. "My cock is to
be honored, slut. It is to be treated as the precious object that
it is. You exist solely to give my cock pleasure with your body
and your holes. Do you understand?"
Heather, eyes closed in rapture at the way her husband was
using her for his pleasure, nodded.
"Your entire reason...the fucking reason you were born was to
give me pleasure. Do you understand?!"
Heather nodded again and opened her eyes. "Please, I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Please let me suck it again."
Mark shook his head. "No. Not until I'm sure you have the
correct attitude about it. You seem awfully casual about the way
you treat my cock."
"I'm sorry!" Heather cried. "Please!"
He shook his head slowly, lifting his cock out of the way.
"Lick my balls. If you do a good job with that, I'll think about
letting you suck me again." As Heather's face flew to her
husband's testicles, he continued, "If you do a good job licking
my balls, Heather, I'll think about honoring your mouth with my
cock again." As she licked his scrotum, Heather whimpered. She
wanted to do a good job so much, so badly, so deeply.
"Treat my balls well," he teased. "They're full of cum. All the
way home, I was thinking about how stressful today was at work,
and how badly I needed to dump a load. And, you know, whenever I
think about having to dump a load, there's only one place I go
to." He paused. "You. You are my personal cum-dump, aren't you?"
"Yes," she said, pulling her face from his testicles. A long
line of saliva connected her chin with his scrotum.
Oh, how nasty, Heather thought, but left it alone.
"I'm your personal cum-dump, Mark. Please, come in me. Please,
come in my mouth!"
He sneered at her. "Oh, I doubt that, my love." Putting his
hands on her head again, he tipped her neck up so she was staring
at the ceiling. "Open your fucking mouth!" he ordered.
Heather, lost in abject submissiveness, did as bade and opened
her mouth wide.
Mark stepped over her head and lowered his scrotum into her
mouth. "Do a good job, slut, or I swear to God I will take your
ass into the bedroom and then take your ass. I've fucking had it
with your attitude and performance. You're not slutty enough for
me, and when I give you the honor of my cock, what do you
do? You bite me!"
Heather whimpered around Mark's scrotum, hating what he was
saying, but knowing that it was true. She had bit him. She'd
bitten the cock that gave her so much pleasure, she'd bitten the
man that gave her so much pleasure.
She was ashamed.
And she loved feeling that way.
"So no fucking for you in the mouth tonight, no way, no
how."
Heather whimpered again, thinking: It's not fair!
"So," he continued, moaning as Heather's tongue licked his
balls in an especially sensitive spot, "Where should I cum? Hmmm?
Where should I unload my cum?"
He paused as if waiting for an answer, but Heather knew that to
answer him was a fool's errand; he would tell her where he was
going to cum, and she was going to accept it.
That's my job; to accept his wherever he wants to deposit
it.
"On the floor?" he suggested. "Should I blow my precious seed
all over the floor?"
That was a cue for Heather. She hurriedly pulled her mouth off of
his scrotum and began begging ."No, please, Mark. Please don't
waste it. Please."
She knew that if he was forced to on the floor because she
hadn't been a good enough slut, there would be hell to pay.
"You can come on me, on me anywhere you like! On my face! My
tits! My cunt! My ass!" She had a sudden thought and grinned.
"You can turn me over...I'll lie down on my stomach and spread my
asscheeks, and you can come right on my asshole! And then you can
lick it off!"
Mark stepped back and stared at her. Long and hard and
perfectly, utterly silent.
Heather felt herself withering under his glare.
I said the wrong thing, she thought, and was instantly upset.
A soft, slow grin gently spread across her husband's face.
"You're learning," he said. "You're learning to be a good little
fucktoy."
Heather's answering grin would have lit up a stadium.
She flipped over and leaned forward, her hands going to the
cheeks of her ass. She was just starting to spread them when
Mark's hands closed around her head again.
"And then ya gotta go and fuck it up," he said. "I didn't tell
you that I wanted to do that, you slut! Come on, let's go to the
couch..."
At least he didn't say `let's go to the bedroom.' That would
mean... Just thinking about what Mark's fat, hard, cock
would feel like plumbing the depths of her tiny, defenseless
asshole made Heather wince.
"Sit on the couch," Mark said. "And spread your legs." Heather
did as he said. Mark then knelt on the couch above her, his cock
level with her mouth. "Open up and take it," he teased.
And Heather did jus that. This was new, something they had
never done, but something he'd obviously given a lot of thought
to. He was at just the right height. His hands gripped the back
of the couch as his hips levered his cock in and out of her
mouth-cunt, plunging into her wetness over and over again.
Heather lay there and let him use her mouth.
And it was one of the most exciting moments of her life. She
felt totally at ease, completely at home. She was a slut, and she
was pleasuring her the way he wanted to be pleased.
I love sitting here and just taking his cock in my mouth, she
thought dreamily.
After a few long minutes of being mouth-fucked, Heather sensed
him moving. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and sat down next
to her on the couch, gasping. The exertion of fucking her that
deeply had tired him a bit.
She sat where she was, her head titled back, her mouth open,
waiting to be used again. She wasn't going to make the same
mistake twice. Her husband glanced back at her and smiled, and
curled his fingers around her neck. "Keep going," he sighed,
dragging her face into his lap. Heather switched positions,
kneeling on the couch, and began blowing her husband in earnest.
She desperately wanted him to erupt into her mouth, because if he
did, that meant she'd earned her way...slutted her way...back
into his good graces.
"Mmmm," Mark moaned, urging her on by lifting his hips into her
face. "I love using you," he moaned, his hands running up and
down her back. "I love fucking your mouth-cunt."
Heather felt her clit twinge at his dirty words and commanding
tone. "But...this position. It's not slutty enough, not
submissive enough." He paused. "Stop me."
Lost in her own haze of pleasure, Heather didn't hear him. Her
first indication that he wanted to change something was when his
fingers wound in her hair and yanked her face off his cock.
Gasping, she stared at him, her expression clear: What did I do
wrong?
"You didn't do anything wrong, my little whore!" Mark said
gleefully. "I just want you on your knees again, on the floor,
between my legs."
He sat back and spread his legs as wide as possible, and with a
twinge in her to guide the way, Heather happily climbed
back down on the floor.
Where I belong, she thought. On my knees. his cock.
Like a good whore. Like a good slut. Like his perfect little
cocksucker.
"I'll ask you again," Mark said softly, stroking her face with
the back of his hand. "Do you like being my slut?"
"I love being your slut," Heather answered honestly.
It's true. I do.
"Make love to my cock," Mark instructed. "Slowly, lovingly. Let
me know how much you love my cock, Heather. I want to feel you
kiss my cock like you're kissing my mouth." Heather nodded,
eagerly devouring his instructions.
I love it when he tells me what to do.
"Because why, Heather?"
Her face clouded.
Oh shit. Another fucking quiz.
"Because my mouth is a hole, and a is missing something,
and the something that my mouth is missing is your cock, or your
balls, or your tongue. I am not complete unless my holes are
filled, and I am complete when you fill my holes with your cock,
your balls or your tongue."
Mark smiled, impressed. "That's right, sweetie. That's just
perfect!" He reached down and patted the top of Heather's head.
"Do you want your reward?"
She nodded her head.
"Fine, then I will give you the honor of making love to my cock
and balls with your mouth."
Happily, Heather bent her mouth to the task. Placing her palms
on his thighs and pushing softly, she got Mark to spread his legs
just a little bit more. That gave her the room she needed.
Leaning even closer, she opened her wet, soft mouth and enclosed
his cock in it, and tugging gently with her lips and
tongue. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the smell of him:
Male, musky and so fucking delicious. Heather began moving her
mouth back and forth, taking him completely inside, pausing, and
then slowly him out, licking his shaft every step of the
way. Taking her mouth off of him for a moment, she grasped his
cock and jerked him a few times, hard. Then she wiped her face
with his cock, covering her forehead, nose, cheeks and chin with
saliva and precum.
And at that moment, Heather became the slut she wanted to be,
because as she slipped his cock back into her mouth, she realized
that she had just wiped his cock on her face because she wanted
to. She had wanted to feel it, wanted to do it, and hadn't waited
for her husband to order or command it; she had done it because
it was the right thing to do, the slutty thing to do, and she
knew that her husband would approve. Her dominant lover would
approve of her shedding her last barriers to becoming a complete
and utter slut for him.
She pulled his cock from her mouth again and straightened,
bending his cock lightly and rubbing it over first her left
breast, and then her right. She circled her nipples with his
cockhead, closing her eyes and moaning at the erotic sensation.
Fuck my tits, she thought, and almost giggled. She wasn't big
enough in the chest for a true tittyfuck, and sometimes that made
her sad. But Mark had taken every opportunity to impress upon her
how beautiful her tiny were and how much he loved them,
and her, so she was happy.
Mark leaned back and spread his arms along the back edge of the
couch, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of his little
cocksucking slut servicing him. This, he thought, is how a
should live. Come home from a crappy day at the office, and have
your little cocksucking whore on her knees in front of you,
bathing your manly pieces in warm, sticky, gooey saliva.
"Stop," he said.
Disappointed, Heather looked up. Mark had learned after being
married only a short time that the way to keep his on the
edge of excitement was to never let her get used to a single
thing. He had come home and forced her to suck his cock on the
average of twice or three times a week since the wedding. But it
only always started like that. He always managed to add something
new to the mix, a different order, some new submissive act that
he wanted his to perform for him. And today was no
different.
"Lean back. Lie back on the floor." Heather did as she was
told. "Spread your legs," Mark said. Heather looked at her
husband and saw that his attention was focused on her cunt, still
covered by the G-string.
She sighed.
"I said, spread your fuckin' legs!" Mark almost shouted.
Responding to the tone in his voice, Heather did exactly what
she was told.
She spread her legs. Wide. She felt the gusset of the
stretching tightly across her cunt. "Mmmm," Mark moaned, lightly
stroking his cock. "Show me. Shoe me your cunt."
Heather lifted her hips in preparation to sliding her
off.
"NO!" Mark said sternly. "Pull them to the side, Heather. Show
me your cunt."
She did as he asked and felt a flush of submissive
embarrassment rush through her. He was looking at her like...
like...
Like a cheap piece of meat, she thought, and shuddered.
"You like the way I look at you, don't you?" he asked, smiling.
She nodded, and then remembered the Rule. When I ask you a
question, slut, you are to answer the question fully. Nodding and
saying "Yes" and "No" is not fucking acceptable for my slut. "I
love the way you look at me," she quickly added. "I love showing
myself to you."
That's not exactly true, a part of her objected.
Heather quickly silenced the traitorous thought.
"Good," her husband said. "I'm glad to hear that. Because I
love looking at you. I love looking at your sexy body, the body
that you've given to me to do with as I please. I enjoy examining
my slut's body. You under-stand that I have to examine my
property to make sure that you're performing the proper upkeep,
don't you?"
"Yes, I understand that you have to check your property,"
Heather said, the words casting a chill up her spine. God, that's
so fucking hot...I'm his property!
"Pull those to the side more. I want to see all of your
cunt. I want to see how you trimmed the hair today.
Oh shit.
Mark frowned. "That doesn't look very trimmed, Heather."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I forgot to trim it today."
He nodded. "I see." He sat back and removed his hand from his
cock. "I don't have to tell you I'm disappointed, Heather. You
have given yourself to me. That body belongs to me. I expect you
to take care of it, Heather. I left you specific instructions on
what I expect at all times." He sighed, looking at the ceiling as
if to ask What did I do to deserve this? In reality, Mark knew
that Heather would take this opportunity to prove to him how
deeply she was committed to him, to his pleasure, to the concept
of being his complete slut.
"What can I do?" she asked, almost in tears.
"I could fuck your asshole," Mark said.
"NO!" Heather screeched. "Not that, please, Mark. Not that!"
He stared into her eyes. "What did I tell you about saying no?"
She gasped. "I'm not supposed to say `no.' Not ever. Never."
"And you just did. That's two things, Heather. Three, actually.
You bit me, you didn't trim my today, and you said no." He
paused, shrugging. "Sounds like an assfuck to me, sweetie." He
smiled at her. "A hard, deep, brutal asshole rape, as a matter of
fact."
Heather felt the tears well up in her eyes. There was no
compassion in his voice, no give, no wiggle room. He was going to
do it. He was finally going to do what he'd been threatening for
their entire marriage, and before that, when they were dating.
He'd always wanted her asshole, but until now, she'd managed to
be a good slut, a capable slut. She had managed to dress and act
exactly the way he wanted, and had never managed to rack up three
infractions in a single day.
Three! her mind screamed. How could you let him down like that?
You deserve to be asshole-raped.
"Please don't rape my asshole," she said. "Please?"
Mark smiled at her, and in some deep, dark place inside
Heather, she felt a chill. She knew what was coming in a broad
sense, but had no idea what he was about to say specifically.
He's going to give me one of those awful choices. I can do A,
which I know will make me feel like a slut, or I can take my
punishment. And, since I know what my punishment is this time,
I'll do whatever it is. Whatever he asks me, I'll do. Just,
please, God, don't let him rape my little asshole.
"You have a choice," Mark said. "Not from two things, but from
three." He began ticking them off on his fingers. "Four, now that
I think about it. Today is Friday. We were going to go out for
dinner and dancing tonight. I think you can assume that those
plans are pretty much canceled. It's going to take us the rest of
the night to properly administer corrective action. But, you
never know. You may choose to be asshole-raped, and after I take
care of that disobedient slut body of yours, you may still want
to go out.
"You can agree to be my slut for the entire weekend, and I do
mean all weekend, Heather. You will either be nude or in lingerie
for the next sixty hours. You will spend the entire weekend being
my personal whore. You know my sexual appetite. I can do it. I
can make you act like this all weekend along, wearing slutty
lingerie, letting me fuck you whenever I want, wherever I want,
and for as long as I want. I will not allow you to shower the
entire time, so by Sunday, you will smell like a whorehouse. And
you know how much I love eating your when you've been used
for so many hours. It tastes so...nasty.
"Or, you can let me impregnate you. You will have to beg me to,
Heather. You will have to make me believe that you want my child.
That, too, could take all weekend. You will have to loudly and
longly beg me to ejaculate my precious, life-giving inside
your poor, unprotected womb. You will have to admit to me over
and over again that you have always secretly wanted my child,
that you want to show the entire world that you are my slut, my
whore, my womb, that you exist only to take my inside your
cum-holes. That you begged me to fuck you until you were
pregnant.
"Or, you can stand up, turn around, pull that tiny G-string out
of the crack of your ass and then beg me to lick your asshole.
And when I'm licking it, you will be required to tell me how good
it feels, how nasty it feels, and how much you love it when I
make you do nasty things. You will have to thank me in a normal
tone of voice for licking your nasty little asshole. I warn you,
I will probably want to lick your asshole for at least fifteen
minutes, and you will be talking during that entire time.
"Or, you can take the asshole rape, which will probably take
about an hour of preparation time, and about five minutes of
actual penetration." Mark smiled down at her, stroking his cock
again. "I expect that little asshole of yours will be warm and
tight and snug around my big, fat cock, and so I don't expect to
last long in your asshole before honoring you with my cum."
Heather opened her mouth to answer, her mind already made up,
but Mark held up a silencing finger. "I should also point out
that if you elect the asshole-rape, that I will be forced to
handcuff you to the bed, and when I am done, you will clean my
cock with your mouth while you tell me how wonderful it feels to
have my leaking out of your poor, abused, stretched little
dirt hole."
Heather closed her mouth with a snap! She hadn't been ready to
elect the asshole-rape, and after hearing that, she sure as hell
wasn't going to choose it now!
"Oh, and one last thing, my love." Mark smiled again, and
Heather felt her stomach drop out from under her. She knew that
smile. That was the smile he got when he was writing his novels,
when he came up with a really neat plot twist to spring on his
readers. Somehow, Heather realized that she was about to
experience one of those twists right now.
"I already know which one I want you to pick. And if you pick
the right one, I will treat you like a queen all day tomorrow. I
will make you breakfast in bed, I will do all the housework while
you relax and read, and then I will draw you a bath, during which
I will read poetry to you. After the bath, I will use that lovely
lotion you love wearing and give you a complete body rub. And
then I will give you a manicure and pedicure. After that, I will
either cook dinner, or take you out to a nice restaurant." He
held up a finger. "Choose wisely, my love." Mark glanced at his
watch. "You have exactly fifteen seconds to decide."
Heather felt her heart freeze in her chest. The asshole-rape
was definitely out. There was no fucking question about that.
Which left getting her asshole licked, begging him to make her
pregnant, or being a slut for the entire weekend. One of them was
an out, a gift to a wonderful Saturday.
But which one?
Mark was humming the theme from Jeopardy! as he stared at his
watch.
Think!
He'd already made her his slut for days at a time. With a fond
shiver, Heather remembered their honeymoon, when Mark's
"indoctrination" plan had been put into motion and he had truly
made her his slut for the entire three weeks. He could do that
anytime he wanted.
Hell, he could do any of them anytime he wants! I'm his slut!
What would be the nastiest?
"Ding!" Mark said, smiling brightly. "Time's up! What's it
going to be?"
Without a word, Heather stood and turned her back to him and
bent at the waist. A moment later her fingers came back and
pulled the string out of the crack of her ass.
"Please lick my asshole, Mark. Please! I need to feel your wet
tongue against my asshole!" Heather had no idea where she had
found the strength to speak those words.
Asshole-licking was so...nasty.
She couldn't see Mark's smile, but it was wide and genuine.
"Back up a little bit," he said. Heather moved back, spreading
her legs. She felt his hands on her cheeks, spreading her,
opening her, revealing her most private parts to him.
Heather bit her lip, trying to steel herself for it.
Mark leaned in and blew hot air into Heather's ass crack, and
she moaned.
Goddamn him. This is so fucking nasty, and he's making it feel
so fucking good!
"Please...lick my ass," she said, whispering. "Please, I need
it so bad. My asshole has been itching for your tongue all day,
honey. When I was masturbating before you came home, I thought
about this. I thought about you licking me there, about you
taking it, claiming it, making my poor little asshole all yours!"
And then he did it. She felt the hot wedge of his tongue
against her anus and she gasped, instinctively pushing back for
more hot, wet contact.
My God, if anyone could see me now! she thought.
"Hold your ass open," Mark ordered, and blushing deeply,
Heather did as ordered, holding her ass open with two hands.
Mark began licking slowly, tracing her from the top of her
crack to the bottom, only stopping for a second on the hole. His
tongue was warm and wet, and knew exactly how to excite her. He
would circle her anus and then push against it gently as if
asking permission to enter.
Don't be gentle now! Heather thought. Just shove it in! With a
start she realized that's exactly what she wanted. She wanted him
to stick his tongue inside her asshole. She wanted him to taste
her there. Shuddering with the nasty, erotic impact of that
thought, Heather gave voice to that desire.
"Please, Mark...please, stick your tongue inside. Please, fuck
my asshole with your tongue. I want to feel it inside me there.
Please." She paused. "Please, claim me there. Take me there,
lover. Please, lick my asshole. Please, tongue-fuck me. Please!"
Always happy to oblige his slutty wife, Mark gripped her cheeks
hard and began licking in earnest. His tongue was insistent,
demanding, claiming, and Heather was thrilled to feel him licking
her there.
"Oh, God, it feels so good," she moaned. "So fucking hot...so
fucking nasty. I love you licking my asshole. Please, harder.
Push harder, Mark. I want to feel your tongue inside me!"
Her husband pulled his face from between her legs and frowned
at her ass. "No, you're the fucking slut, Heather, not me. You
push back."
And then he put his face between her cheeks again, holding his
tongue as stiffly as he could. He zeroed it on her anus and then
began pulling on her thighs. Heather got the idea and, gritting
her teeth, began to push back against his invading tongue.
She felt the first inch of it slip inside her, and she almost
had an orgasm.
His tongue is inside me! she thought. It feels so goddamned
good!
Mark was gentle, patient, allowing Heather's body to determine
the depth and speed of penetration. But he'd read a little, and
knew a few tricks. While she was gasping and groaning at the
erotic sensation of his wet, fat tongue sliding into her most
intimate cum-hole, Mark reached a hand up and began massaging her
cunt through the panties.
His fingers knew her body inside and out, and he began expertly
stroking her cunt, driving Heather up the wall. The combination
of his tongue inside her asshole and his fingers rubbing her
overheated through the silky were driving her
insane with pleasure and desire. She found herself pushing back
even more, spreading her cheeks even wider, trying to get more of
his fat, hot, wet tongue inside her body.
"Ooh, that's it lover, fuck me! Fuck your slut's asshole with
your nasty tongue!"
Mark grinned. She was letting the barriers drop one by one, and
by God, it was hot to see!
Mark sped the action of both his tongue and his fingers.
Heather began gyrating back and forth, trying in vain to get more
contact against her horny, hot body. His fingers felt exquisite
on her cunt, but his tongue felt exceptionally nasty and dirty
thrusting in and out of her tightly clutching little butt.
Asshole, she thought.
Mark had set his watch to beep when fifteen minutes had passed,
and right on schedule it began to chime. Heather didn't move. She
knew that it would be another sign of how deeply and completely
she wanted to fulfill this new role of slut for her husband if
she ignored the timepiece and continued to loudly and eagerly beg
him to fuck her asshole with his tongue.
Mark smiled into his wife's ass and knew that she was beginning
to understand, to get it. Get what it meant to be his slut. Get
what it meant to turn herself over completely to him.
"Get of my tongue," he said, mock-harshly. Can't let her get
used to that, or it won't work very well as a threat for much
longer.
Heather straightened and turned to face her husband. She
reached down and stroked his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.
"Thank you for licking my asshole. I loved it. It felt
so...nasty, honey. So utterly slutty to push my asshole against
your face like that."
Mark smiled. "You're welcome. Now, do you want to go out for
dinner and dancing?"
She shook her head. "Not tonight. Tomorrow." She smiled and
lifted her eyebrows. "You're not done using me, are you?"
He grinned. "Not by a long shot, lover. But, since you've been
such a good slut tonight, I'll let you decide. What do you want
to do next?"
Heather thought about it for perhaps half a second. Leaning
down, she kissed her husband on the lips and stared deeply into
his eyes.
"Take me into the bedroom, handcuff me, and make me take your
cock, honey." She made a frowny face. "But, only if you promise
to pull out and come on me." She paused. "It's my time of the
month, you know, and I don't want to get pregnant."
Mark put a hand over his heart. "I promise I'll pull out and
paint that slutty body of yours with my cum," he said solemnly.
Heather laughed and ran to the bedroom.
"Leave that fucking lingerie on!" Mark called, thinking I want
to tear it off your fucking body myself, slut.
Mark got up off the couch and followed his into the
bedroom. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting.
Reaching into the top drawer of his bedside table, Mark found the
Army-issue handcuffs and returned to his wife.
"Hands," he ordered.
Like a robot, Heather raised her hands. Mark cuffed them in
front of her. "Get back on the bed. All the way," he said.
"No," Heather said, starting it. "I don't wanna. I don't like
these handcuffs."
"Silly slut," Mark laughed, gabbing his by the hair and
dragging her up the bed. "One day you will learn not to resist,
to do what I tell you, when I tell you and exactly how I tell
you." Mark fervently hoped that day would never come.
He opened the carabener that was mounted through the eyebolt
screwed into the wall and slipped the cuff's connecting chain
through it. Heather was now effectively tethered to the wall.
Unable to move.
Unable to escape.
Unable to do anything but lie there and do what she did best:
Provide a warm, willing for Mark to dump his into or, if
he was in the mood, on to.
Mark went back to his bedside table and returned with his
folding-lockblade Smith & Wesson SWAT knife and flicked the blade
open with his thumb.
"What are you..." Heather started to ask. Suddenly she was
scared. Mark had never brought a knife into bed before. She had
rape fantasies, sure, but she didn't want to fuck with a knife at
her throat. Even as part of playtime.
"Relax," Mark said. "I just need to get...rid of something."
For a moment Heather's stomach flipped and turned, and then
settled down.
He'd never me.
And she was right.
Mark leaned down and quickly cut Heather's G-string off.
"What-?" she asked, surprised. That was one of his favorite
pieces of underwear!
"I want to keep these in a special place," Mark said. "In my
briefcase. When I get horny at work, I'll pull them out and sniff
them. I'll remember what your slutty tastes like." He
smiled.
"And, after I'm done cumming in you...er, I mean, ON you, I'll
wipe my up with these, so I can smell what a slut you are."
Heather blushed.
"Now then," Mark said, dropping the on the bed, "Spread
your legs."
"Remember," Heather said, a warning tone in her voice, "you
promised to pull out."
"Well, since I'm only going to eat your right now, I don't
think you have anything to worry about."
Heather kept her legs together. "But you promised, right? No
kidding?"
"No kidding," Mark said, laughing.
"Goddamn it, I'm serious," Heather said, and after a moment,
Mark realized that she was, in fact, serious.
Goddamn! She actually thinks that I...
Well, wonders will never cease.
"I swore, didn't I?"
"I'm not sure I trust you, Mark. I'm at my most fertile period
right now. I mean, one of my eggs is probably hovering in my
fallopian tube, thirsty, just waiting for a nice drink of warm
cum. You can't inside me."
Mark studied his wife's face and decided to forego the
eating. The little slut was getting out of line, and she needed
to be taught a lesson.
Immediately. Like fucking now.
He put his hands on her legs, halfway between her knees and her
cunt. "Spread `em," he said, pushing.
"Promise me, you fuck!" Heather hissed.
Mark forcibly spread Heather's legs open and crawled between
them.
"Normally, I'd order you to put my fat cock in that slutty
that I own, but since you're...uh, tied up at the moment, I guess
I've got the honors this time."
Mark lined his cock up and pushed, burying himself with a
single stroke. Heather gasped and lifted her hips, fucking back
at her husband.
God, I thought I'd die if he didn't fuck me soon, Heather
thought. That little speech is probably going to cost me a
brutally hard fucking.
She tried to hide a smile as the smart-ass comment that
followed up that thought appeared in her mind:
Oh, poor me. Boo-fucking-hoo.
"I love fucking you," Mark said, stroking in and out of his
wife's easily. He stared down at her, with her arms
stretched over her head, her gorgeous blue eyes staring back at
him. "You're so fucking beautiful, Heather. Such a beautiful
little slut. Such a gorgeous little whore." He pulled out slowly
and then slammed his cock inside her, brutally hard, the head of
his cock bouncing off her cervix. "You are my slut, aren't you?"
he asked, crooning.
"Yes, I'm your slut," Heather said, getting into it.
"And that means...exactly what?" Mark prompted.
"I exist for your pleasure. For your use. My body is yours to
use as you see fit. You can do whatever you want to me, whenever
you want to, for as long as you want to. However you want to. I'm
your slut, your property. I belong to you. My cunt, my tits, my
asshole, my mouth all belong to you."
"Keep going," Mark prompted, withdrawing and slamming inside
his again.
"My is your cunt, and when you are not in it, my is a
hole, and a is missing something. The something that my
is missing is your fat, hard cock, fucking me, plowing me,
filling me up, claiming me. I am not happy, not complete, without
your cock in me. I live for your cock in me. I live for you using
me. I live for you fucking me, taking me."
Mark grunted at her words, loving the way they sounded as they
washed over his ears. She was so totally his slut, so completely
his. He could do whatever he wanted to her.
Including getting her pregnant.
"Do you love me?" Mark asked.
Heather nodded. "I love you. I adore you. I worship you."
"And you're my slut, right?"
Heather nodded. "I'm your slut," she confirmed.
"I want something," he said softly, slowing down, stroking her
gently, teasing her. Mark knew his wife: She wanted a brutal,
hard fucking, deep dicking into her mushy cunthole.
"Anything," Heather said.
Mark stopped completely and flexed his cock inside his wife's
cum-hole. He knew that she could feel it, and that it drove her
crazy.
"I want a baby," he said softly.
Heather's eyes widened. "Oh...Mark..." she whispered. "Oh,
Mark..."
"What?" he asked, beginning to stroke her again, softly,
gently. Setting her up. Reeling her in.
"No, Mark....I can't. I've already had my children, sweetie.
I've got two grown children!"
"I know!" Mark nodded. "And you're much more now than
when you had Ry and Laura! You'll make such a good mother."
He began moving inside her again, this time with a purpose.
Heather could tell from his strokes that he was trying to make
himself cum.
Trying to make himself cum, her mind announced.
"Mark," she said, softly, trying to reason with her husband,
"you promised. C'mon...stop it. Pull out like promised. on
me. On my face. On my tits. You know how much I like that. I know
how much you like that."
Mark shook his head, picking up his pace. "I wanna baby," he
said. "I wanna put a baby in you."
"Mark," Heather said, now going past "reasonable" and quickly
heading for "stern."
"You promised to pull out! I don't want a baby."
Mark stopped moving completely and stared down at his wife.
"You just said you were my slut," he said softly.
"I am," Heather agreed. "But you promised you'd pull out,
remember?"
He shook his head. "Must have slipped my mind. I distinctly
remember telling you something...else."
Heather's eyes widened. "Like what?"
Mark's hand came down, his fingers finding her throat and
squeezing gently. "Listen to me you fucking slut," he growled.
"You gave your body to me, remember? You gave yourself to me,
body and soul. And If I want to fuck my slut, I'm gonna fuck my
slut. And if I wanna put a fucking baby in my slut's womb, that's
exactly what the fuck I am going to do!"
Heather began resisting, twisting her hips from side to side.
"Pull out. I mean it, Mark. Pull the fuck out of me. Get your
fucking cock out of my this goddamn minute, you bastard!"
He laughed at her.
"Silly slut!" He began power-fucking her, with-drawing all the
way before slamming hips into her, burying his cock to the hilt
on every bone-rattling, cunt-mushing stroke. "I love you,
sweetie," he said, in a perfectly reasonable voice. "You're fun
to be around. You suck my cock when I tell you, you ask me to
lick your asshole like a good slut should, and you dress exactly
the way I like."
His voice turned hard then, each word emphasized by a brutal
cockstroke.
"But you are my slut, Heather. My property. You are my personal
cum receptacle. Your fucking job, slut, is to lie there and get
fucked as hard as I want, as deep as I want and as often as I
want. Your entire fucking purpose in life is to take my fucking
cum wherever I decide to honor you with it. Is that fucking
clear?"
Heather was struggling for real now.
"Let me go! Let me go right now, you son of a bitch! I mean it!
I mean it! Let me go! Let me up! Take it out! Take that fucking
cock out of my cunt!"
She hadn't said her safeword yet, so Mark knew she was into
this little "rape" just as much as he was.
He lowered his full body weight on her, pressing his arms over
hers, putting his face an inch from hers.
"Take it," he whispered. "Take my cock, Heather. Take my cock
in your slutty little like a good slut should. Take my
fucking cock, Heather. Take my cum. Take my in your hole. You
know you want it." His voice teased her, and Heather felt herself
growing genuinely angry.
"Fuck you!" she spat.
"That's exactly what you're doing, my whore. Fucking me. Even
now, as you fight and struggle against the inevitable, I can feel
your squeezing me. Your body wants my cum, Heather. Admit
it. You want my cum. You want my baby. Admit it. Admit it, and
I'll let you go. Admit it, and I'll let you clean me after I
inside you."
"Never!" Heather screamed.
"You don't have a fucking choice!" Mark screamed, pounding her
harder. "You don't get to decide, Heather. Your fucking job is to
lie there and take my fucking cock and my fucking and my
fucking baby if I decide to fuck you when you're ovulating! Do
you fucking understand?!"
"Please," Heather whimpered. "Please pull out. I don't want to
get pregnant! I don't want a baby! Please, pull out!"
"I thought you loved me!" Mark said, a tone in his voice.
His cock didn't slow down, though. It kept pounding her,
relentless, his hunger unfed, unslaked.
"I do! Please pull out! Please don't get me pregnant!"
Her resistance was so hot, so nasty, so wonderful that Mark
found himself approaching orgasm much faster than he would have
liked.
He straightened out his body to give himself maximum leverage
and put his hands on Heather's shoulders, using them, using her
to get deeper penetration. His voice rose to a hoarse shout as
his hips rose and fell above her, over and over again, fully
withdrawing and then slamming into her, pounding into her.
"Take it!" he screamed. "Take it! Take my fucking cock, you
whore! Take my fucking cum! Take my baby!"
"NOOOOOOOO!" Heather screamed, and then she felt it. She felt
her husband's cock expanding, getting fatter still --
how is that possible?
--and then it was jumping and shooting, his cock spraying her,
splattering her with his cum. Heather bucked beneath her husband,
her body reaching for his rich, creamy ejaculate. She felt like
she had bathed in it, had wallowed in it like a at the
trough.
Mark was still rutting above her, his hips slamming into her as
he growled and grunted and moaned. He was using her, and it was
such a turn on that Heather felt herself approaching orgasm as
well.
"Oh my GOD!" she screamed, feeling her clamping down on
her husband's fat, shooting cock. "Fuck me! Use me! Fuck me! God,
please keep fucking me Mark! PLEASE KEEP FUCKING ME!"
He nodded, smiling, still lost in his own orgasm. It was
wonderful, glorious, a perfect end. His little slut, trussed like
a whore, her body bucking beneath him, her clamping down on
him in perfect, mutual, simultaneous orgasm, milking him, trying
to draw all of his up inside her, into her, into her womb,
where it belonged, where he wanted it, where he wanted it to
impregnate her, to make her fat and stuffed with his child, his
baby.
"OH GOD!" Mark said, collapsing on top of his wife.
His mouth found hers and he kissed her deep and hard. Her hips
were still bucking up to him, trying to get more cock, more
stimulation. Her eyes were glassy with orgasm. Reaching for his
car keys, Mark quickly unlocked her cuffs and drew Heather to
him. She curled around him, whimpering with the aftereffects of
her amazing orgasm.
"That was...amazing," he whispered, still panting from the
stress of fucking her.
"And how!" Heather agreed. "God...that was so hot!" she
whispered.
Mark curled his hand in his slut's hair and tipped her head
back. "You belong to me," he growled.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, I do," Heather whimpered, her flexing
in arousal and desire. "I belong to you."
"Let's cuddle for a bit," Mark said. "And when you feel my
starting to ooze out of that little of yours, when you feel
like a used, loose little slut that's leaking her man's cream, I
want you to beg me to eat you, Heather. You got that? I want you
to beg me, slut."
"I will," Heather promised.
And she did.
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