Chapter 1
The man rolled his desk chair backwards toward the door of the library and then he pulled that door open so he could shout, "Pamela, I want to see you this instant."
His wife rushed down the hall an instant later. She slid into the library, smiling.
"Look at the bills here," he said, pointing to his desk.
Pamela looked at the mess on top of the desk and stopped smiling. 'There were so many things we needed for the house, dear, and I knew that if we waited . . . "
"How are we ever going to have any kind of decent life if you insist on living beyond our means?"
She looked down at her hands which she clasped in front of her and then she softly said, "You're the one who wanted us to move into this great big house, Douglas. I said that it was more than we needed and that we didn't have enough furniture to fill it."
"Pamela, this house is an investment in the future. Do you know what's going to happen to the price of real estate with the current costs of building what they are? The value of this house is going to skyrocket. But, what about this coat rack for a hundred and twenty dollars?"
"It was a designer piece and if it's going to be the only thing standing in that great big foyer that we have out there, people will see it when they come in and.. . "
The man's jaw was set on edge as he hissed, "That's enough, Pamela."
"I don't mean to make you angry with me, Douglas, really I don't, but.. . "
He stood up and said, "You're going to have to be punished, you know."
"Punished?" Pamela looked into her husband's eyes. She felt a strange little thrill rushing up through her body when she repeated that word. It was an exciting notion to her. , "And it's up to me as your husband to decide on the nature of your punishment."
Douglas seemed very thoughtful. Pamela remained in the same pose she had assumed, with her hands folded in front of her and her eyes down on her joined fingers. She knew that Douglas was surveying her, assessing her. She enjoyed that feeling.
Her upbringing had been very strict and severe. Her father was a harsh disciplinarian and she had felt his loss very deeply when she was a teenager. Somehow, although Douglas was youthful and handsome, still in his middle twenties, he was similar to her father.
Perhaps it was the incredibly light blue eyes. They were almost clear, almost the color of a brisk autumn sky or the color of ice that is beginning to melt. His eyes glinted and reflected the light, always able to intimidate his beautiful young wife.
For, although she was already a wife, Pamela was quite young. She was only nineteen and would soon be twenty. This large house on a relatively small plot of land in the expensive suburb her husband had chosen for them was quite a chore for any girl of her age, and she didn't do everything as well as Douglas wished her to, but she tried ardently.
Pamela believed that keeping the house for Douglas was. her mission in life and succeeding at that mission was all she ever hoped for. Therefore the use of the word punishment was not at all alien to the girl, not at all surprising to her ears.
Besides, this is not a contemporary couple being discussed. Pamela and Douglas stood together in that library as vital and youthful and sexual as any two people ever were, but there world was not our world. The time was many years ago when everyone was old-fashioned. Discipline was a way of life then. Fathers took canes to their children and even to their wives.
And, in that time, perhaps a half-dozen decades past, the world was divided into two parts. There were the wild people, the people who went to the sort of parties where illegal alcohol was served, the people who believed in 'free love' and other wild notions. And then there were the decent people. Douglas and his wife, newly accepted in the community of Shady Hill, certainly fit into that second category. , The two of them were as decent as any couple ever was. Pamela was joining the correct charities in town and Douglas had just joined the board of his father's bank.
Besides that they looked so beautiful together. Douglas' hair was corn silk blond. It was soft and straight and swept across his high forehead. His face had the handsome good looks that marked his Nordic heritage. His nose was, in a word, perfect. His jaw jutted just enough not to be ostentatious.
And he had been a top athlete when he was at Princeton. He was a fine specimen of young manhood.
The bride he had taken one year earlier, just after she finished her time at the girls' finishing school where she had studied, was his perfect mate.
Pamela's hair was long and straight and of a lighter shade of blonde than her husband's. She wore her hair up during the day and she let it hang down at night.
Her body was shapely, but it still wasn't the fully rounded woman's body it would be one day. There were still signs of the lithe girl's body it had been just before.
As she stood in front of him in her white dress which showed her body so well, he considered what he wanted to do to her and he found himself thinking about sex. There was still sunlight coming through the windows. This was a Saturday afternoon.
He felt very guilty that he was thinking about having sex with his wife even though it was the middle of the day, and yet he couldn't help the notion. As he considered a proper punishment for her, he could only think about her hot and tight slit which accepted his throbbing manhood each night.
"Up to our sitting room, Pamela," he said as he walked past her and exited the room first.
She obediently followed him up the stairs to the sitting room. The master bedroom suite was done up as so many of them were in those days. There was a large sitting room that one entered immediately upon arriving in the suite. Then, to the right there was a small bedroom which was Douglas' room, and to the left there was a large and ornate bedroom which was Pamela's room. Pamela's room got the first morning sunlight.
Douglas' room was furnished with a fairly large single bed. It was sparsely furnished with masculine and Spartan choices. Pamela's room was furnished with a large, king-sized bed. Quite simply, it was considered improper for a wife of Pamela's class to even know what the inside of her husband's bedroom looked like. He came to her and knocked on her door when he wanted to fuck. She had the option of saying yes or no.
Now, as the two of them entered the sitting room and she turned toward him, the man pointed toward her bedroom and said, "I want you in your room now."
He followed her into the room. It was the most lavish in the house.
"Look at this room! Look at the expensive wallpaper that you got! Look at the heavy silk you used for the drapery! Look at these crystal lamps and this marble nighttable!
"No one shall see this room but the two of us, Pamela, and the servants who clean it. By what right did you spend this money on your bed chamber?"
Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes as she turned from him and softly said, "But, Douglas, in here we shall share some of the most cherished moments of our marriage. Would you deny me this bit of frivolity when, in fact, we're dealing with.. . "
"Stuff and nonsense. I'll hear none of this. Pamela, I demand that you remove your frock."
"My frock?" she asked, her blood beginning to boil at the thought of exposing herself so.
The curtains were drawn apart and although she knew that there were no neighbors who could see into the window, the thought, of having sex while sunlight was pouring into the window seemed very wicked indeed to the young married woman.
They were scarcely thirty years away from the era of Queen Victoria in England and it was not a time when such things were done lightly. She looked up into her husband's eyes and she saw the stern expression there, so like her father's.
She reached around behind her and struggled to unfasten the stay at her neck. She never thought to ask her husband to help her do such a thing. It would have been demeaning.
Once she opened that snap, she proceeded to open the series of buttons that was fastened down the back of the dress. She slid it forward so that it came down her arms. Then she was revealed for a moment to the waist. She was wearing a satin chemise that glistened in the light.
She stepped out of the dress and was revealed in the slinky satin chemise that was outlining her nipples and her breasts and her light colored stockings and her white shoes.
"The chemise," he said, motioning upward with his hand.
Pamela peeled the chemise up her body and revealed her breasts. They were rather small, not as large as she would have wished them to be, but they were beautifully shaped, almost like the rounded portions of a split cantaloupe. Her nipples stood up high and proud when revealed.
She was wearing a white garter belt with a series of garters that held up her stockings and she was wearing a pair of satin underpants. They had little short legs on them which had frills running all around the bottom. The girl moved nervously from side to side, taking her pose with her hands fastened together in front of her.
"I want you to take them down," Douglas said, pointing to his wife's satin underpants.
She felt the heat and the tingling sensation rising in her body.
"But, Douglas, it's the middle of the day. It wouldn't be decent for me to.. . "
"This is your husband's command." He had the power to command like that because he knew that in spite of everything else they lived by they were also ruled by the notion that the man was the master of the household and that his word was the law.
She wriggled out of the undergarment and then stood in front of him in just her garter belt and her stockings and white shoes. She wore the garter belt under her panties so that it was easier for her to go to the bathroom without having to unfasten her stockings.
As she stood in front of her husband, she felt the way he was looking at her and she was too shy and modest to look back at him. She had seen herself naked in the mirror and had enjoyed the sight of her nakedness. She knew that there was a wispy patch of blonde right at the lips of her cunt. She could tell that her husband was looking right at that spot.
Then he glanced away from her and he looked at the bed. His wife had just had it delivered the previous week. Then there was a problem with the mattress and it was only the previous day that they got in a proper mattress. This bed had been the biggest expense of all.
But, as he looked at it he knew that he couldn't scold his wife about this choice. He had gone with her to the furniture store to pick it out. But they hadn't chosen a mere bed off the floor of the shop. They had given a special order to the man in charge and it had taken months to get to them.
This was a hand-wrought brass bed. Even in this room, which was done in yellow and was cheerful and bright, the brass tubing that made up the headboard and the footboard stood out, shimmering as if there were darkness and contrast all around.
"I want you lying on your back on this bed, Pamela," the man commanded.
Swallowing hard, the girl said, "It is the middle of the day, Douglas, and we. . . " Then she blushed, unable to finish the thought.
"Do not be smutty, Pamela. Remember, 'Honi soit qui mal y pense,' my dear."
She got on her back and then he commanded, "Your arms above your head, Pamela."
As she put her arms up, he left the room and when he returned a moment later she was still in the same position. It pleased him to see that the girl knew what discipline meant.
He was carrying a bunch of his old ties. They were school ties which were still left in his closet. He considered them a little too flashy and juvenile for him now that he had his position at the bank and if he had thought about it he would have thrown them out.
But, now that he was finding a new function for the ties, he was glad he hadn't thrown them out.
He pulled the first tie around both of her wrists, deftly making the sort of knot he had learned to make as a Boy Scout. Then he tied the tie to the headboard of the brass bed.
Lying on her back, the girl realized that she was helpless then. Her husband was right over her. She thought she was going to cum immediately as she thought about the situation.
But, he did not pounce on her just then. He took one of her legs and he pulled it up in the air. It was her right leg and he pulled it up over her right shoulder so that the ankle was to one side of her. The girl did not resist. She knew this was part of her husband's will.
He took another of his ties and he tied it to that wrist and then tied it to the headboard.
Then he quickly pulled her left leg up so that it was spread out toward the left side of her body. He was even quicker about tying that ankle to the headboard because he had experience with the other limbs. Now the woman was completely immobile.
She looked up at her husband and she blushed. Even though he was her husband and even though he had been having sex with her for a year, he had never seen her in this sort of position. He had never seen her sex organ exposed that way. Now that she was lying with her weight resting on her shoulders, her arms over her head, exposing her breasts and underarms fully, and her legs pulled up in the air and spread wide apart so that her pussy was open for view, she was terribly aware of the sunlight that streamed through the window and lit up her body.
Her husband's fingers lightly grazed the flesh of her spread pussy, but he pretended that it was an accidental touch. Her entire body shivered and quivered in response to that light touch of his fingers. He pulled his hand away from her body immediately. .
But, she could already feel the moisture that was welling up in the slit of her cunt. She could feel the moisture that oozed over the sides of her hot twat.
She looked up at her husband in a longing way, as if she were asking him to fuck her. But he merely turned away from her. He wanted to lecture her and found it impossible to do when she was looking at him in that way. "You shall stay there at my whim, Pamela."
"For how long?" she asked with a slight note of terror in her voice.
The terror replacing the lust he had seen in her eyes pleased him. He turned back to face her and smiled, "You shall stay there until you learn to be a responsible wife for me, Pamela. Since you saw fit to spend so much of my hard-earned money on decorating this room, this shall be a prime opportunity for you to look at the room for a long time."
Then he rushed from the room. He went down to his library where he was working on the finances for the month. But, he couldn't concentrate on a thing. His cock kept on throbbing inside his pants. He was pressing the ball of his hand down against it, trying to get it to calm down.
But, no matter how many columns of numbers he looked at all he could see in front of him was his beautiful wife. He saw her as he left her, as he knew he would find her. She was spread open and her delicate sexuality was exposed, pink and wet and ready.
He had been aware of the wetness at the lips of the delicate slit, but he hadn't said anything at all about it. He was aroused knowing that she was aroused. But he knew that proper women of that era did not admit ever having been sexually aroused.
And yet, he had to consider it. He had to admit it to himself. The idea of having his luscious young wife tied up in nothing but her garter belt and stockings, helpless to fight off any invasion to her feminine charms, was a very exciting notion after all.
He saw the white flesh that was pulled so tautly over the rounded softness of her body.
And, every so often, he looked out the window, waiting for the sun to set. He knew what he would do after the sun set. There was a knock on the door of the library and it distracted him.
Douglas pulled his chair against the desk so that his erection wouldn't show. "Who is it?"
"Cook, sir," the woman's voice said as she turned the handle and entered the library. "Excusin' me, sir, but I don't know what you'd have me prepare for dinner and I can't find the missus. Could you tell me if you know where she could be?"
"Mrs. Fairfield is upstairs resting and she is not to be disturbed. Would you please leave something cold in the icebox that I could take up to her later on in the evening. Once you've prepared that you can leave for the day. Thank you."
Then he turned back to his desk and continued to wait for the sunset. He kept on thinking about the things he would do to his wife once it was dark outside. But, then he couldn't think of it. He kept trying to stop himself from having those thoughts.
Finally it was dusk. He lit the lamp that was on his desk and decided that was the time when it was okay to start the sexual action upstairs. By the time he actually got to sex it would be fully dark. He justified all this to himself, since he was from an age and a world where such things needed to be justified. Giving in to the feelings of the loins would have been considered sinful.
So, he went upstairs and entered the room where his wife had been tied to the brass bed.
She was lying there, trying to doze off, feeling a tingling in her legs because the blood had rushed down from them. But, she hadn't been anywhere near dozing off in spite of her efforts. Being exposed like that on the bed she imagined all sorts of strange things, all of them highly sexual, all of them very arousing for her.
Pamela knew that she was dripping wet by that time. She knew that her cunt was oozing and that the liquid was already flowing into the crack of her ass. She had never been so wet before.
"Now, my dear, I hope I've given you enough time to consider the folly of living beyond our means."
She knew that he. more than she, was responsible for their living beyond their means. It made her angry that he was able to shift the -blame to her and was able to punish her because of that. But, at the same time she also felt the erotic thrill of the punishment she was receiving and since there was that as part of it, she did not complain.
"Sir, I've learned my folly. I'll economize all I can on everything."
He unstrapped the belt from around his waist, tossing his jacket onto a chair. He stood over her in his vest and tie and once he had pulled the belt off he doubled it over in his hand.
She could feel her flesh tingling when she looked at the belt. She remembered times when her father had used his belt on her as well. The smell of leather always made the flesh inside her pussy tingle with hot wetness. This evening was no exception.
"What is this I see?" the man asked, rubbing his finger against the lips of her pussy just as if this was the first time he was seeing the glistening wetness there. "You haven't soiled yourself, have you, Pamela?" He brought the finger to his nose.
Glaring down at her in a very accusatory manner, he hissed, "This wetness is not the aroma of urine. It is the aroma of female sexuality." He was glad to see that his wife was blushing.
Shaking his head, the man said, "Perhaps we have discovered a more severe demon inside you, Pamela. It may be one that must be beaten out of your system."
With that, he raised the leather belt over one shoulder and slapped it down across the cheeks of her ass. He watched as the bright pink line appeared just below the girl's wet pussy lips. The pink turned quickly to deep purple and then started the slow process of turning white.
He aimed the leather strap again at the fleshier portion of her ass cheeks. It cut right across and made an even more vicious pink mark against the pure white flesh.
Pamela was biting down on her lower lip and putting in a great deal of effort not to cry out in pain. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears as she looked up at her husband.
The third stripe he slammed across the delicately white cheeks of her ass went in a slightly different direction. It cut across the first two stripes and where it passed the other two welts immediately started to form. That was when she clenched the cheeks of her ass together.
That was something the man couldn't resist. As soon as she clenched her ass cheeks together he slammed the leather belt in the other direction so that it cut right across the fleshy buns.
She was struggling in her bonds and then her husband stepped back. He felt the perspiration on his forehead because of the sexuality of his bound wife. He couldn't hold off any longer.
He quickly removed his vest and his tie, trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. He turned and saw that there was night showing through the drawn curtains. It didn't matter to him that they were not shut. He pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants.
Then, as he was standing over the bed, he slowly unbuttoned the one piece cotton undergarment he was wearing. Pamela, bound to the bed, could see the clear outline of his erection through the fabric. She could tell that it was hard and she could even see a little drop of wetness that was staining the front of the white cotton union suit.
He peeled the undergarment off and worked it down his legs, letting his prick wave in front of him.
Then he knelt over his wife on the bed and stroked his erection as he raspingly said, "I am your husband and I shall have my sport with you, woman."
Pamela remained silent, it was a must, and pretended that she was merely giving in to the will of her husband. But, all the time she could feel the hot blood rushing through her veins. She was turned on, she was really stimulated by the position she was being forced to assume.
Now, as her husband leaned over her bound body she felt the head of his cock pressing against the lips of her pussy. She shut her eyes. There was nothing she had to imagine. She was really bound to the bed, naked but for her garter belt and stockings, and the cock was spreading her open.
The lips of her cunt were quivering, were shaking as if they were petals of a delicate flower, petals that threatened to fall off with the slightest rush of the wind.
And then the cock head was inside the welcoming and wet cunt lips. The man could feel the body heat that surrounded the head of his cock. The cunt lips had shaped themselves right around the flared head and it was holding that shape as if it were making a mold of the cock head.
Then the man pushed forward into the woman's body and he could feel the inner labia spreading open with the pressure. He could feel them permitting his prick to enter the hot folds of fleshiness. He pushed forward and the boner slid into the depths of her wet cunt.
He could feel the hot flesh that was deeper inside her pussy being spread wide apart by his invading prick. He grabbed her upturned ass in his hands and he could feel the coarse lines that he had left there with the fury of his leather belt.
She winced in pain as she felt his hands touching the very spots that had been left so raw and bruised by his earlier mistreatment. And when she winced like that, responding to the pain, the pressure of her cunt tightened around his erect penis.
He could feel the pulling sensation and he was off as if he were a racehorse.
Pulling his dick back out of her hot hole, he slammed it forward again and then he could feel her pussy flesh pulling together in a way that he could not mistake.
Douglas was aware of the way his wife usually had orgasms. She had a very sensitive pussy and he knew that he often brought her to orgasm. The pulling of the flared head of his cock against her clitoris was enough to excite her wet pussy flesh to the final implosion.
But, now that he was doing this out of fury, now that he was responding with indignation to the fact of her wet pussy, he pulled his throbbing prick immediately from her hole.
"How dare you, woman? Have you no shame?" he asked in a low voice.
She blushed. She understood what he was talking about. They were both from the same society, from the same background which believed that women must not enjoy sex. She knew that he was reacting to the fact that there was pleasure welling up in her cunt.
And it was a strange throbbing sensation in her cunt due to the fact that she had been left unsatisfied for such a long time. She wanted to get it over with! If only one hand had been free while she had been bound nearly naked to the bed she certainly would have touched her pussy. If she could only touch herself for half a minute she knew that she would cum.
But, bound to the bed in that way she was helpless to go against her husband's will. There were stronger bonds as well. She felt bound by her family, by her restricted world. Those bonds held her to her husband's will even when she was not tied to the brass bed.
And now her husband was kneeling over her and stroking his dick.
"I did not know that my wife had a sluttish nature when I took her."
"Sir, you do me a great injustice. You know that I was pure and ignorant when we married."
Tears slid slowly down the girl's cheeks as she protested, looking up at her husband.
"I say that you have a sluttish nature, and do you deny it?"
She turned her face away from him. She had been taught basic precepts about sex, even though it was a subject that was never discussed in her home. Somehow, perhaps through osmosis, the girl had been molded in the Victorian mold of her parents.
"P-please," she whispered, believing that his accusation was true. "I c-can't control my nature, sir. It's the fear. It's fear that makes my body react so to your touch."
He pressed one finger firmly against the wet and steaming lips of her pussy as he softly sighed, "This is not the feeling of fear, woman. This is a different feeling."
Then he moved forward on the bed. He had heard about something that sounded deliciously wicked. But, he had only heard about it being done by whores and low-life girls. Now that his wife was bound to the bed, hand and foot, he didn't see why she was any better than that.
After all, he had been taught that there were two types of women. There were whores and there were virgins. Now that his wife was no longer a virgin and no longer acted like a virgin, he could only think of her as a whore. It was the fault of his education that he did so.
His knees were on either side of her breasts, actually jabbing into her armpits. He lowered his torso into a squatting position and then his erect cock was right at the woman's lips.
"Sir," she said, her eyes wide. "I do not understand this rude action."
She turned her face to the side. She longed to look at the cock at this close range and yet it terrified her to do so. It terrified her that her husband would accuse her of further misdeeds if she were to do so. So, she shut her eyes.
But it was her husband who, pulling on her hair, turned her face toward his prick.
"You are going to take it in your mouth and give me my pleasure that way."
She gasped, "Sir. I've never heard of such a barbaric thing in my. . . "
Before her protest could go any further, she found herself forced to perform that barbaric act. The head of the cock was pressing her tongue down in her mouth and she started to sink her teeth slowly against the sensitive flesh. But then she felt her husband's hand on her hair once again. He pulled her head a little and snarled, "If I even feel your teeth, you shall regret it eternally."
That was all she needed to hear. Pamela was brought up with strict moral rules, but she was brought up with fear of authority more than anything else. She was brought up with a good deal of respect for authority and she couldn't imagine going against her husband's will.
So, she felt the cock sliding into her mouth. She could taste her own pussy on the thick prong. She had sometimes smelled her underpants when she took them off. The aroma of her own sexuality, however powdered and perfumed it might have been, was an erotic delight to the girl. Now she was aware of the actual flavor that was on the stiff penis.
When the cock pushed forward she could feel the flared head of it rubbing against the roof of her mouth. Then it pulled back and she felt the massaging that was beginning on her tongue.
Her husband, kneeling over her face, was starting to fuck her throat. But, he was going slowly at first. He pushed a little more of his dick into the hot confines of her mouth and then the broad, mushroom head of his prick slapped against her throat.
She felt the pressure against her throat muscles and then she felt the muscles repelling the invading slam of the cock. She gagged and choked and he pulled his dick back.
For a while he just played with the head of it inside her lips, but he never pulled it back all the way. He never took it all the way out of her mouth. It didn't matter though. She had been bound to the bed for hours in that position already. There was no way she was going to get away until he had taken his pleasure.
He was slamming his dick in and out and in and out of her throat. He could feel the hot wetness as the saliva kept on building up in her mouth. He could feel the wet friction as the speed of the movements increased. He never imagined that anything could be so erotic.
It wasn't only the physical pleasures that were thrilling Douglas. He was a man with an appreciation of man's finer points and he realized that any jungle animal could enjoy this same pleasure of friction and wetness in a willing throat. He was excited by the situation.
Here was his wife, a beautiful girl from the cream of society, and she was bound in her stockings and garter belt, her pussy oozing with steaming juice and longing, and he was forcing her to suck on his cock. This was the first time that Pamela was doing anything like that.
He reached down and he was feeling the sides of her face. He wanted to remind himself that it was really her down there. He wanted to remind himself of her perfectly sculpted features of her clear and smooth white flesh, of her high cheekbones and her bright eyes.
Douglas was constantly reminded of those beautiful lips, those pouting lips that were so totally, so willingly, his. He was pushing more and more of his stiff cock into her throat each time he pushed forward. He could feel her throat muscles responding to the pressure of his erect penis and yet he always stopped just short of making her choke.
Pamela was aware that the thrusts would begin viciously enough and then would become a little slower at the very end when he was trying to tell when he should pull back.
Her tongue was tingling because of the way he kept on moving backwards and forward across the surface. She felt as if he was scraping a layer of flesh off her mouth muscle.
Douglas reached up and started to feel the silk of his wife's stockings. They were wrapped around the soft flesh of her legs as if they had been painted on. It was so soft and so wonderfully feminine. He reached down and felt her garters, pulling on them and letting them snap against her fleshy thighs.
He heard her sighing a little each time the garters snapped. He could feel her body quivering a little bit. She gasped a little. His cock kept on moving in and out of her throat. Waves of pleasure were rushing up into his body, rushing up to his balls, up to his spine and to his brain.
And the brain was sending back messages. His body was pumping even more spunk and his dick was as stiff as an iron spike. It would have to explode soon, that was for sure.
He was slamming so hard up and down on her face that the springs of the bed were creaking even though it had been slept on for less than a week and the mattress had only been used for one night. His cock was moving as if it were a metal rod being driven by a powerful engine that was hidden somewhere in his thrusting hips.
Actually it was the muscle power of his hips that was permitting him to fuck her face that way.
Each time he slammed forward now she could feel his balls slapping against her chin and she could feel his pubic patch grinding down against her nose. Her nose was itching, but that itching was just a further inconvenience of the problem of being bound to the bed.
She couldn't even breathe most of the time and when she did manage to get a breath fast enough, before his cock slammed down into her throat again, she only smelled the aroma of the sweaty male crotch that was right over her face. The stiffness was really pushing into her throat.
The man had felt the responsiveness of the throat little by little. He had been aware of the fact that each time he pushed into his wife's throat she was able to take a little bit more of his long and stiff dick. He pushed hard against the depths of her throat and then she could feel that it was lodged there for a long moment. There was stillness.
None of his limbs moved. His body was absolutely still. Of course, since she was tied to the bed she remained still, unable to move from her stationary position.
And then, after that instant that might have lasted only ten seconds but seemed like an eternity to the girl, she felt something move. The length of his cock pulsated up toward the head and then the flared head of it spread wider than it already was.
A thick glob of male spunk shot out of the cock head and slammed against the depths of her throat.
It happened so fast and it was such a sudden surprise that there was no chance for the woman to respond to it. Her husband's cum was sliding down her throat. She tried to block the passage, even if it would mean choking.
But, fortunately the will for self-preservation was stronger than her moral indignation so she swallowed the gism.
When she made the swallowing movement her throat muscles massaged the flared head of the cock and pulled even more of the cream out of the length of the shaft.
The man felt the erotic massage and then his hips started to rotate in a slow tempo, mainly so that the head of his cock would be sufficiently massaged so that he could get the rest of the sperm out of their storage compartment and down his wife's throat.
And then, as soon as he felt the passion in his body beginning to disappear, he slid the full length of his cock out of his wife's throat. He looked down at her for just an instant, but he was too ashamed to face her. He was ashamed and also terrified of what he had just done.
He turned his back on the woman and ran out of the room. She started to sob immediately. She was still strung up in that awkward position, still attached to the headboard of the brass bed.
Eventually, her weeping brought her husband back into her room. She saw that he was completely covered in his most conservative dressing gown. He picked up his own clothes from the chair and floor just as if he were ignoring the presence of the nearly naked, bound woman.
Then he held them over one arm and silently, without making reference to her crying and without making reference to any of the shocking things he had just done to her, he untied her arms and then left her room as quickly as he could. It was up to her to untie her legs and she fumbled with the ropes for a moment.
The first thing she did was to rub her wrists and her ankles to get the circulation back in them. But, the second thing she thought about was her pussy. She had been left so horny, so hungry for satisfaction. Her husband had truly been sadistic in the fact that his discipline did not leave any room for his wife's sexual satisfaction.
In point of fact, part of the fury that rose inside him was due to her sexual excitement.
It was a strange, a curious time in which the two of them were living and neither of them imagined that things would change with time. The woman looked at the door and turned the lock so that her husband could not return to the room. Then she hobbled into the bathroom, hobbling because her legs were now unused to walking after a day in the strange pose.
She refreshed herself a little, thankful for the indoor plumbing in spite of the terrible expense that had been. She stood in front of the washbasin and used a cloth across all of her sweaty body and then she admired her nakedness in the mirror.
Her thoughts returned to her pussy. She locked the door of the bathroom. Now she had at least two locked doors between herself and her husband. She started to finger her pussy, shutting her eyes and remembering the way she had felt when she was tied up on the brass bed.
It was such a sexual thrill for her, although she could never admit that to a soul. She could feel the pulling, the wetness that was deep in her hot cunt as she thought about the masterful way her husband had stood over her, the way he had forced her to do what she feared doing.
She had three orgasms before she could leave the bathroom and then she had to wash up again because she felt herself covered with perspiration. She never left her room that night, in spite of the fact that she was very hungry. She was too frightened of everything that had happened.
And so, all alone in the night, she curled up in her large brass bed, the only witness of the oral rape she had suffered earlier that evening, the object that had shared her humiliation.