Chapter 4
Running along in a bow-legged trot, Dolly managed to get back home just minutes before Donald returned home.
"Dolly! I'm home," he called.
The busty blonde beauty went to meet him at the door.
"Well, Hello Dolly!" he sang out in tune to the song from the Broadway musical.
"Well, Hello Donald," she replied in harmony. "What makes you so cheerful?" she asked, although she had a pretty good idea.
"Oh, let's just say I've got a surprise for you. Something to help you with the baby."
Dolly's face turned sad. "You're not going to start up with that baby thing again, are you? You want me to get pregnant, but you want it so badly, it's making it hard on me. We're trying too hard."
"I'll make it hard on you," Donald said, .losing his happy grin.
Dolly didn't know if he meant that he'd fuck her hard, beat her hard, or what. With Donald it could have meant anything.
"Honey, I just can't have a baby. It must be impossible. You told me that yourself."
"I'm not a doctor. You should go to a doctor and find out what's wrong with you. It couldn't be hereditary. You're mother had a baby, didn't she?"
"Well, I think that's pretty obvious, isn't it," Dolly answered dryly.
"Aw, look, honey," her husband said, softening. "I don't want to see you in a bad mood tonight. I've got a great surprise for you. I know you'll be happy."
"Alright, tell me what it is?" Dolly said.
"Not so fast I want this to be special. Now, you go and fix us some drinks."
Dolly turned and went into the kitchen where she kept the booze. Donald took a look at that full ass of hers and he couldn't keep from following behind her like a pussycat following a fisherman who's carrying his catch on a rod over his shoulder.
The only thing was, Dolly was the pussy and Donald had the rod.
"Oh!" Dolly yelped when she felt Donald pinch her ass. "You startled me."
"I couldn't keep away from you, baby," he told her. "I'm so fucking hot."
"Alright, alright," she told him. "Let's get some drinks down our throats first. If we start now, we'll never get the drinks, and frankly, I need a drink. I've had a rough day."
"Oh, yeah, I meant to ask you about that. I telephoned here during the day. You weren't home. Where were you?"
"Donald, must you know my whereabouts at every moment? Can't you trust me an inch?" Dolly asked.
"I can trust you an inch, Dolly," her husband answered. "It's the six, seven and eight inches that I can't trust you."
"Well, for your information I was out at St. Marks drugstore getting something to soothe my pussy. You fucked me so much, I needed something to calm it down."
"Yeah, did they slip it in for you?" Donald asked sarcastically.
"Oh, Donald, stop it. Come on, let's have some drinks, and you can tell me about this wonderful surprise you have for me," Dolly said, bringing the subject back around to anything that didn't have to do with Jimmy and the steam room fuck.
She brought the liquor out from the cabinet, and she also brought out a book she had been saving for such an occasion. It was a book of nasty jokes, and she opened the page to read a list of special drinks.
"What would you like me to mix for you?" she said. "I could give you a muff-diver."
"What the fuck is a muff-diver?" Donald asked, getting into the spirit.
"You should know, darling," Dolly cooed. "You are one, aren't you?"
"Not too often, baby," Donald replied. "Only when the muff's as sweet as yours."
"Well, I mix a real sweet muff-diver. It's a very short drink in a very tall glass. And if you're really thirsty, you might want a Virgin's Ruin."
"What's in a Virgin's Ruin?"
"Vodka, orange juice, and a busted cherry."
They both laughed.
"No, give me something that really fits my personality," Donald said.
Dolly scanned the pages of the book. "How about a Marquis de Sade?" she said after comparing her husband's personality with the names of the fun drinks.
Donald wasn't too thrilled. He didn't think of himself as a sadist. He beat his wife only when he felt she deserved it, and then for her own good and correction. Discipline was an important thing for him. He believed in it.
"A Marquis de Sade," Dolly continued, reading from the book, "is best served on the racks. Not the rocks, dear, the racks. It's scotch, rye, bourbon, gin, vodka, and rum in equal parts. No ice, no soda, no nothing. Or maybe you'd like a Sadist's Delight. It's Chivas Regal and kerosene in a frosted glass."
"Kerosene's expensive," Donald snapped. "Give me that book!"
He ripped the book from Dolly's hands. "Here, let me find something that suits you and your drinking personality."
He scanned the page as Dolly seated herself on a kitchen chair. She was ready for a laugh, after having had one on her husband.
"Ah, here's something that's perfect for you," he said. "The Cocksman. A good, stiff satisfying drink."
"My pussy is pretty sore. I think it would sting when you poured it in."
"Ah, Dolly, here's a perfect drink for you. It's perfect for tonight because it refers to what I want to happen on this, oh, I almost spoiled the surprise," Donald said.
"Well, what is it?" Dolly asked. She was talking about the surprise and the special drink he'd picked for her, as well.
"It's called a Tit-Wringer. Scotch and mother's milk."
The remark cut right through Dolly. "Donald, don't you realize how hard I've been working on having a baby for you. It's just not that easy."
Her voice was harsh and strident. She was irritated and it showed.
"I'll show you how easy it is, you spoiled little cunt," he snapped. He was both angry and playful at the same time. He felt that she needed some sense fucked into her, and yet he was in too good a mood to be really angry.
With one quick movement he got hold of Dolly's shoulders and picked her up off the chair, onto the kitchen table.
"Donald, what are you doing?" she screamed.
"I'm gonna fuck you right here on the kitchen table," he announced.
"Donald, don't. No, no, stop," she cried. She was kicking and fighting him off, but he overpowered her easily. He pinned her to the table, and started working^ her panties down off her body.
The reason for her fighting was a simple one. Her panties were damp with another male's cum. Her cunt was filled with the boy cum of a teenager.
She knew that when her husband stuck his weapon into her cunt-hole, the jizz would spew out and give her away. She knew that Donald would then do something drastic. He might even tie her to the kitchen table and ... oh, it was too horrible to even consider as the possibilities flashed before her.
"Yeah, I love to rape my wife on the kitchen table," he laughed. "Fight me, honey. I love it when you fight me. It gives me all the more reason to knock you around. You'll learn who wears the pants in this family, baby. And you'll learn who rips the panties off and starts plowing."
"Please, please, no," Dolly begged. It seemed that she was always begging for him to stop, or to start. "I can't. Not now. Later, not now," she cried.
"I said now! Donald is hot now and Donald expects you to spread it and take it."
He was hard and it wasn't difficult for him to snag her pussy with his tool.
She screamed as the dick sailed into her snatch. He was familiar enough with his wife's pussy to know just how to throw the stick into her. He jabbed his pecker into the moist slit formed by Dolly's peachy pussy lips.
The dick went right in, "You're good and wet," he told her when he felt his prong slide in so easily. "You're so full of crap, Dolly. You beg me not to do it, but your cunt's been juicing all the time. You're a real pisser, baby," he grinned.
"Yes, baby, I guess I am," Dolly said, picking up on the perfect explanation for the wetness in her cuntal realm. "You got me so hot that the female fuck fluid just started gushing through me."
She was willing to take the pain of another fucking as long as Donald didn't recognize what the lubricant really was. She figured that he wouldn't know. He'd fuck her, he'd shoot his own wad up her cavern of lust, and then he'd assume that the stuff was his when he saw or smelled it on the end of his prong.
He began getting into that juicy fuck. His dick was fucking the scum of young Jimmy into the depths of his wife's deep twat. If only he knew!
Dolly only prayed that he wouldn't find out.
The boy's spunk was seeping out the cunt lips and dripping down Dolly's creamy thighs. Some of it even rolled out onto the kitchen table.
Still, Donald kept on fucking. "Mmmmm, good fuck, honey. Good hot fuck," he grunted as he rammed his prick into Dolly's openly-splayed pussy.
She was on her back on the kitchen table, taking every inch of his pummeling pecker.
Donald's cock plunged deep. It was Dolly's unfortunate luck that Donald's deep plunge hit a pocket of scum. The goo gushed out profusely from Dolly's twat.
It was a thick glob and it was unlike Dolly's cunt juice.
"Hey, wait a minute," Donald grunted. "What's this?"
Dolly's heart was in her throat. She was petrified.
Donald pulled out of her snatch in one yank of a motion which made her pussy lips pucker, unwilling to let him go. But he was out with a wet popping sound, and he took the glob of white sticky stuff in his fingers.
"This isn't cunt cream!" he shouted.
"Of course it is," she said. "What else could it be?"
"You tell me," he answered.
"Oh, oh, that must be what the boy from the drugstore gave me," Dolly answered honestly, although she didn't mean to say that it was his cum. "He gave me a salve to soothe my aching pussy. I told you that."
"Let me see the tube then," Donald said.
Dolly threw her legs over the side of the table. She pulled her panties up. She hopped off the table and went to find the bag in which the tube was located.
"Here it is," she said triumphantly. "You're a jealous husband, that's all. This is the salve and you can read the label for yourself."
He read the tube's label and sure enough it said that it was vaginal salve used, to ease irritation of the vaginal membranes. He wasn't convinced, however.
"Dolly, this container hasn't been opened yet," he said. "Look, I've just opened the top and it's fresh up there. This is the first squeeze. Besides, this salve is like grease. The stuff in your cunt is like, like, hell, it's like cum! Dolly, you've got a load of cum up your twat!"
"It must be yours from this morning," she cried.
"Bullshit, bitch! You've been coming up with too many excuses. First it was cunt cream, then it was salve. It's cum, that's what it is. You've been cheating on me."
"No, no, I haven't," she told him.
"I can't prove it. I'm not going to take this spunk to a laboratory to have it checked to see if it's real or if it's mine, or anything like that. As far as I'm concerned, you've been fucked. And that fucks me. But you'll pay. Go into the bedroom and get down on the bed with your ass up for discipline. I'm going to give you a taste of such discipline, you won't ever make the same mistake again." It was futile to argue. He'd made up his mind, and besides, deep down Dolly knew that it was cum. She did deserve to be punished according to the rules which had been told to her in advance by her husband.
She slinked sulkily out of the kitchen and took off all of her clothes in the bedroom. When she was nude like this she felt so vulnerable.
She followed her husband's orders and placed herself on the bed to await his discipline.
Before his anger could wear off, Donald stomped into the bedroom. He had the punishment box in his hands.
He wasn't going to let Dolly decide which punishment she would take this evening. He was going to give her more than one type of punishment. He might just give her every punishment he could come up with.
Dolly started crying into her pillow. In the recent days she had been beaten and fucked to a pulp. She wondered if the fucking of young Jimmy had been worth what she was now about to receive.
"Dolly, I'm going to give you what you deserve. I'm going to start off with the hairbrush. Just stay down and take it until I decide to stop. Remember, I'm the one who'll determine when you've had enough."
"Yes, Donald," she whimpered.
Whack! The hairbrush came down across both ass cheeks at once. It happened much quicker than she'd imagined it would.
"I haven't even started yet," he told her. "That was only to teach you how to address me. During this spanking you will call me Master. Do you understand? I'm the Master and you're the sex slave."
"Yes Master," Dolly answered.
"Good. Now, keep your ass up. I've got a heavy hairbrush. I'm going to give you ten with the smooth side. Then I'll give you the bristles. I want you to count and ask me for each spank. Do you understand, slave?"
"Yes, Master," the naughty wife answered.
"You've committed adultery, haven't you?"
"Yes, Master."
"You need to be punished for that, don't you, slave?"
"Yes, Master. I need to be punished."
"Start begging!" the wronged husband told her.
"Beat me with the hairbrush, Master, Please. Hit my ass with the hairbrush and teach me to be good, Master. Please."
Whack!
"One, Sir. Thank you Sir. May I have another one, Sir," the adulterous wife moaned.
"Yes you may."
Whack!"
"Thank you, Master," Dolly answered, though her voice cracked this time and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "May I have another one, Sir?"
"No, not yet. You were told to count out the strokes. You didn't follow my instructions. I'm going to have to start over from the beginning. We'll see if you remember to count them out. And if you don't count loud enough, I'll start over again!"
The bare white globes of Dolly's ass were marked with two red prints. The places where the brush had landed were red hot and stinging. But the spanking had only just begun.
In fact, as far as Donald was concerned, the spanking hadn't even started yet. Those first two hard brush strokes stung like the devil, but they were just warm-ups to the rest. If she had counted but the way she'd been told, she would have been that much ahead of the game. But she didn't and there was hell to pay.
"I'm sorry, Master," the humbled wife cried. "Please give me my ten with the hairbrush. I'll sing the count out loud and clear."
"That's better," the harsh husband replied.
He raised his arm up high. He swung the hairbrush down near her globes several times, but he didn't land the brush on her posterior as yet. He was just testing his stroke to make certain that the brush landed exactly where he wanted it to land.
Once or twice the smooth end of the heavy plastic brush touched the trembling ass flesh of Dolly's bared buns. The flesh would react with a tremor, but Dolly didn't count. She knew that only the hard ones would be considered counting strokes.
"Alright, Dolly," Donald said, "get your butt ready."
Dolly started out by keeping her flesh relaxed back there. She heard the brush swish down through the air and she felt the hard back of the brush crack down into the twin pillows of ass flesh. It cracked across both mounds at once.
"Ow! One, Sir. Thank you, Master," Dolly said in a voice loud enough to satisfy her husband's demands. "May I have another one, Sir?"
"Yes you may," he replied, and again the man's arm wielded the brush as if it were a weapon for her aching buttocks, and it most certainly was. It was a stinging weapon, at that.
Each stroke seemed harder than the one before. Perhaps it was because the globes were already sore and burning when newer strokes were laid on.
Perhaps it was because Donald was raising his arm higher each time and swatting her naked buns with more and more force. He was a muscleman, and he had plenty of muscle grease to put behind his swing.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
The staccato rhythm of the spanking with the hairbrush rang through the house. The brush left its red calling card with every whack.
For the first half of the spanking, Donald smacked her all over her ass. He'd smack one spot, and then the spot closest to it. The next smack would land a fraction of an inch from that spot. And so on until the entire area flamed.
By the seventh stroke, the beautiful globes were crimsoned all over. Not a bit of white remained. The entire area of the ass, both cheeks, was red and sore.
But he still wasn't finished.
By this time Dolly was having difficulty in taking it. She was gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, and tears were rolling down her face.
It was difficult for her to bring herself to ask for another stroke when she really didn't want any more. In fact, the beating was the last thing she wanted at the moment. And yet, she had to ask for another, another, and another.
There were three more strokes with the back of the brush-before, she would be allowed to feel the next set of punishment strokes. She knew that she had better ask for them, or else she might get a quick and powerful volley of unrestrained strokes and that would really set her tail on fire.
"Please, Sir, may, I, have, another, one, Sir?" she asked slowly, stammering.
"Yes, you may. And it's going to be hard. And after it's over, I want you to hurry up and request the next one, and the next one after that." She dreaded it, but at least it would end that part of the punishment.
Crack! The brush exploded across her right buttock.
"Thank you, Master. That was number eight. May I have number nine, please?"
Crack! The brush landed harder and in precisely the same place. The imprint it created landed directly on top of the previous imprint.
It knocked the wind out of Dolly. She was unable to catch her breath for the begging. That was her mistake.
"I don't hear anything from you," her husband said.
"I, I, I'm so ..."
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
The brush landed time and time again without pause. Each stroke was flailed into the already-burning right buttock. Each stroke landed on top of the one before it. The area was welted.
"Stop! Oh, ow, stop!" Dolly screamed.
She was kicking her legs wildly and she tensed every muscle in her buttocks to withstand the pain.
But her kicking was rewarded with more of the same from the hairbrush, and when the right globe was aching with a deep throbbing, he did the same to the left buttock. And then, as if that weren't enough, he started working on her upper thighs.
Dolly was beside herself with anguish.
Just when she thought that she would explode back there, her husband told her to bite the pillow.
"Sink your teeth into the pillow to hold on and take it," he told her. "You're gonna need something to hold you down. This is gonna hurt."
Dolly felt like asking him what he thought the rest of the spanking felt like. It hurt like hell. But he was telling her that this part of punishment would REALLY hurt!
When she felt what he dished out, she knew what he meant. He had pounded the smooth end of the heavy brush into her rear repeatedly and the result made her entire backside throb, and pulsate with pain.
Now he turned the brush over and gave her a beating with the bristle end. of the brush.
The bristles were also made out of plastic; hard fibers of clear plastic.
The bristles numbered in the hundreds. There were perhaps two-hundred-and-fifty little points digging into her ass flesh with every stroke of the brush on her behind.
The bristles were unyielding. They smacked into her soft flesh. They indented the flesh each time they struck her. They didn't pierce the skin or leave blood, but they left red dots where they struck.
The red dots blended into the already crimsoned skin, especially after there became so many of them. Her punishing husband wasn't going lightly on her cheating ass. He was sweating profusely from the effort he used to deliver this beating, and so was she.
He started his beating on her buttocks, again, and moved down to her upper thighs. When she thought that she would die from the throbbing pain and the stinging pain, Donald turned her over on her back.
He turned the hairbrush back to the smooth side and started spanking her front with it. He gave each of her big breasts a crack, and then he roughly spread her legs. The cuntal area was wet and the juice moistened her thighs.
That was fine because he liked to hear the wetness cracking and sputtering each time the back of the brush hit her moist inner thighs. He held her down by the stomach with one strong arm, while he used the other muscled arm to beat her inner thighs with the hairbrush.
Each time he cracked her sensitive flesh, the force of the blow moved her leg further out from the center of her body. He worked the right inner thigh, first, smacking it out from her cunt, and then he went to the other side.
He smacked her left side until she was spread so wide apart, she felt the strain in the joints of her hips. She was sure she would ache for days.
When she was burning up on her behind, back thighs, inner thighs and breasts, he hopped up on the bed and jammed his thick tool into her satin cunt box.
"Now I'll fuck the cum out of your hole," he told her. "I'll fuck it out of you and I'll know that you won't try that shit again too soon. Not unless you want another session like this."
"No, no, I don't," she cried, the tears streaming hotly down her face. "I'll never-do that again. I'm so sorry. I only want your cock."
"You've got it, baby," he told her.
He rammed his prick into her cunt with a passion that made her twat as steaming as her spanked rear end.
Even as he fucked her, and she felt the stinging where she'd been hit, she writhed and rotated her head in circles.
She thought about the punishments he gave her and she wondered if she really wanted to be beaten. She had been warned not to behave that way. She had been told not to cheat on her man, and she'd agreed wholeheartedly.
And yet she had flaunted what she was doing by flicking in a steam room, even, though she was well aware that her husband was in the very building and that he could walk in on them at any moment.
In fact, he had done, just that, and still she refused to release the big boy cock which filled her. Instead, she threatened Jimmy's life by behaving in such a brazen manner, and she earned herself some more harsh treatment by doing so.
Was she really a glutton for punishment?