Chapter 2
The next morning had seen a terrible fight between the both of them. Phil was angry enough that she hadn't turned off the television, but when he saw that the mess he had made remained where it had been, he flew into a tirade, calling her a filthy slut, accusing her of wanting to drive him into an early grave, and warned her that if she didn't have the mess cleaned up by the time he got home that evening, she would regret it. He stormed out of the house, announcing that he would shower and shave at the club, and that he needed to work out a bit just to calm down. He slammed the door behind him as he left, and could be heard throughout the neighborhood as he slammed the foot down on the gas pedal as hard as he could.
Janet survived this onslaught without being reduced to tears. She simply plugged up her ears as best as she could. She was still too enraged to be scared. She wasn't afraid of him. Maybe, she thought, he's getting it on the side with some girl his parents would disapprove of, and just used me for cover. His folks liked me, which is strange, because he said they never liked anyone he brought home very much. Perhaps this was the problem.
That seemed ridiculous, though. He never stayed out late. Hell, the only time they ever went out at all was on weekends. During the week he simply stayed home and watched the television. He must have had to devote most of his time during the day to work, for she was constantly reading about his cases in the local papers. He was the busiest real estate lawyer in the city. And he was such a clumsy lover that she couldn't believe that he was the type who got much practice. No, face facts, she told herself. The guy is impotent. Totally impotent. Why in God's name did he say he'd marry me? If I'm lucky, he'll screw me once every two months, in the off chance that I might get pregnant. That will be the extent of our physical relationship.
Janet lounged around the house all day, clad only in her panties. For some reason, she didn't want to be totally nude, but this was the way she was going to remain all day. She didn't care if anyone came to the door. She would answer it just the way she was, with no attempt at covering her nakedness. If possible, she would bring whoever it was into the house, and seduce him. She needed some kind of sexual gratification, and while she wasn't going to go out of her way to find it, she wasn't going to run away and hide if opportunity came knocking either.
She was going to divorce him. That was certain. If he didn't fuck her that very night, if he didn't take her as soon as he got home, she was going to inform him that their relationship was at an end, and that she would go elsewhere. She was a woman with her entire life in front of her, and she had no intention of spending it with a old fart who had no interest in her as a woman. She would not be unfair to him, but she was going to demand some kind of financial settlement that would keep her comfortable. She had been promised a normal, healthy life, and she had been cheated. She didn't want to hurt him, but that was the way it was, and she didn't want to feel as though she had been taken advantage of.
She sat about all through the day, and now was on her fifth drink. She was giggling to herself now, wondering what the confrontation would be like, getting very impatient to see the look on her husband's face when he walked through the front door and saw that the mess he had left was still there. She was really going to let him have it this time. The hell with trying to spare his feelings. She had been doing enough of that lately, and precious little good it had done her. It had only opened her up to more abuse. She would let everything that was festering inside her, screaming to get out, explode, and see how well he could handle it. It was about time that somebody let him know the truth about himself, that he was less than a man, and that no woman would have anything to do with him if they knew the truth. She wanted to see his face when heard that!
She began mashing the stuffing into the carpet, ripping up little bits of the meat, and scattering the mess very generously about room. She was going to make this place a filthy mess. She took some newspapers and scattered them around, even hurled the liquor in her glass at the wall, watching it splash against the creamy white paint. She would definitely get the house as part of the settlement, and she would sell it immediately. It was a gift, and would get a very nice price. She would then head to Europe, and give herself to the first outstandingly attractive man that she could find. Oh, hell, she thought, to the first man she could find who wasn't a physically gross pig! She had had enough of celibacy to last her a lifetime. She would spend the next few months getting as much dick as she could. She'd take anything, as long as it was human and had the proper tool.
She fell back on the sofa, spilling a little of the sixth drink that she had poured to replace the booze she'd hurled at the wall. She dropped her panties just enough to expose her bush, and slipped her fingers down to her eager womanhood. She ran her fingers through her blonde bush, then touched her quivering clitoris, rubbing the creamy pussy juice all around her vagina. She slipped her fingers into herself, and tried to imagine that it was a cock. She got her whole hand in, amazing herself at how effortlessly she was able to penetrate herself. She ran her fingers inside herself harder now, and she quickly chugged the rest of the drink, then brought the other hand down so that she could concentrate on her clit at the same time.
She quickly reached her peak, and felt the waves of pleasure pulse through her pussy, shooting up throughout her flesh. She squirmed with the pleasure of the orgasm and as the wave subsided to one of gentle ecstasy she continued to stroke herself, in hopes of once again feeling the thrill of her release.
She pretended that a man was fucking her. She pretended that he was about thirty, with dark hair, and a bushy, swarthy frame with much hair on the chest and stomach. She tried hard to see a face. It became more and more visible as she continued, but she still couldn't really make him out. She got to her climax, and suddenly saw his face, screaming it out as her insides exploded once more. "Oh, Phil! God, I love you so much, Philip!!!"
She was finished. She drew her hand out of herself. It was no good, she thought. She still saw that bastard's face every single time that she thought of being held by a man. She had to get him out of her system, and it would take a long time. She was deeply, helplessly in love with him, and that was the really great tragedy.
The alcohol had left her with a very full bladder, and she went up to the bathroom to relieve herself. Why did life have to be so cruel, she thought to herself. What the hell have I done to deserve this kind of predicament? She had been a good girl most of her life. Her parents had both died, her father when she was ten, and her mother when she reached the age of seventeen. She had been raised at that point by her grandmother, but since she was mostly grown up by that point, you couldn't say raised, really. They had inhabited the same house. She had been a good granddaughter, taking care of the old lady when she had to, and laboring after school at a restaurant, adding a bit to the household income. Her granny had died when she was twenty-one, and she immediately went to work, earning her keep for herself.
She had not had much time for a social life while in school, so most of her dates had come after graduation. She lost her virginity when she was nineteen. She had found it mildly painful, but nice enough so that the tender man who she was seeing steadily then was able to do it many more times. It got better each time, and soon she discovered that sex was a delightful practice, well worth basing an entire relationship on, should that be your sole common interest. She went on from there to have other lovers, going so far as to proposition men for the purpose of having a one-night stand. She didn't do this often, just when she was feeling very horny. She had even had men who she knew intimately enough from their past so that she could merely call them up when she felt the urge, and get together for a short and sweet quickie.
She was, in other words, a woman who acknowledged her sexuality, was not anything like ashamed of it, and saw nothing wrong with seeking to satisfy it. She had been with men who felt the same way about themselves for so long now that she couldn't imagine that anyone felt at all differently about the subject.
How ironic then, that she had ended up married to the only person she had ever met who did.
She heard the garage door open. She had long since finished peeing, but she didn't feel like moving. She sat on the toilet, panties around her ankles, and listened to Phil come in the door. His agonized scream coincided with the slamming of the door, and he yelled out to his wife in a very agitated tone of voice. "Janet!" he yelled, "Janet, where the hell are you?!"
"I'm in the bathroom upstairs, darling," she replied in her sweetest tones. She was beginning to enjoy herself. He never expressed his anger like this, and it was nice that the shoe was on the other foot for a change.
She heard him mounting the stairs, and he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, glaring at her. She smiled sweetly at him. She wanted to see what he was going to do without her having to say or do anything first. He glared at her, getting angrier by the minute, and finally spoke, using very carefully measured tones.
"I should think that there was an explanation coming. I left this morning having given you very explicit instructions on what you were to do today. I come home to find that not only have you disobeyed me, and not cleaned up the mess as I instructed you to, but that you have actually gone out of your way to defy me, and have made the mess much worse than it is." He finished talking. The whole time, the only part of his body that had moved was his mouth. Janet wiped herself and flushed the toilet, stepping over to the sink. She lathered up her hands, and then replied, speaking very reasonably, as though relating what a nice day she had had.
"Why Philip," she began, "I'm so terribly sorry that I didn't clean the mess that you made when you got so upset last night, but I just didn't have any time at all to see to the task. I beg your apologies, my darling, but what can I do? I had simply millions of other things to do that occupied my time, and to tell you the truth, I forgot all about it until just a couple of minutes ago."
"Don't you dare address me in that tone of voice! I pay the bills around here, I provide the food. I'm the man around here, and I think that you ought to consider yourself pretty damn lucky that I'm as patient as I am. Now either you get down there and do as I tell you to do, or you'll regret it."
She finished washing and drying her hands in total silence. She had him where she wanted now. There was no way that anything he said was going to disturb her into making the mistake of shouting back at him. She walked passed him, out into the hall, and walked downstairs.
She sat in the kitchen, eating the food that she herself hadn't had the stomach to finish the night before it was very good, especially the stuffing. She could hear her husband upstairs, pacing around. She knew that he must know she was not attending to her assigned tasks. She finished up what remained of the delicacy, and placed the used dishes in the sink. She turned around to leave the kitchen, when Phil popped up in front of her, advancing enough that she backed up from him. There was a glare in his eyes that Janet had never seen before, and she found that it rather frightened her, an emotion Phil did not usually inspire.
"You're still disobeying me, you damned bitch. I can't believe this. Who the fuck do you think you are that you can get away with this shit?"
Janet was most taken aback by this. Phil never used foul language, at least not around her of any other woman that she knew of. Even when he got angry it was a big thing for him to say something like "damn," or "hell." She just stared at him wondering what the next stage of his anger would bring.
"Listen, you bitch, I want to hear some answers, do you understand that? I don't just want to see those big, brown eyes, I want to hear some fucking answers? Are you going to clean up that shit, or aren't you?" Janet put her hands on her hips, and spoke to him calmly, but nonetheless letting her anger show.
"You listen to me, goddammit. I'm not going to pick up that shit. You put it there. I worked like a fool all day cooking that, and doing something that I thought would give you pleasure. All you did was shit all over me when you got home, and called me a pervert for trying to seduce you. I'm sick of being treated that way, and I won't stand for it any longer."
With that, she moved around him to leave the kitchen, but suddenly, he grabbed her arm, whipped her around, and smacked her across the face with the back of his hand, screaming, "You fucking bitch!" He caught her right on the cheekbone, and the pain was sharp and plentiful.
"You bastard," she went on to say. "You filthy bastard!" She wheeled around and went to leave again, but arm was grabbed again, and this time Phil swatted at her head, giving her quick, choppy swats that tended to sting more than hurt. He dragged her out into the living room, and threw her in so violently that she fell on the floor.
"Clean that shit up!" he shouted at her, standing above her. "I want all of that garbage off the floor, right now!"
"That's it, do you understand, you filthy pig! I'm going to divorce you, I'm going to take you for all the shit you're worth now! I can't stand to be in the same room with you anymore, do you understand that? You're just a filthy coward who can't get it up, so you humiliate me when I try to seduce you, and then try to work me into a state where you can have an excuse to hit me!"
Phil walked over to her slowly, standing so that his face was not more than three inches from hers. "Listen," he said, "I won't stand for your insubordination any longer. You are my wife. We have a legal contract between us. You have been reneging on your part of the contract. I provide for your food, clothing, and shelter, and in return for that, you take care of the home. That being the understanding between us, you start cleaning this room pronto, or you'll learn a lesson you won't be forgetting anytime soon, you got that?"
Janet listened to him, was totally fearless, probably from all the liquor she had consumed before. "Listen, you filthy scum," she started. "As far as I'm concerned, you have violated that precious contract that you talk about. There's a little line there about love, honor, and obeying. Well, you sure haven't been keeping up with the loving part, and there isn't a judge around who wouldn't give me what I want on the grounds of alienation of affection. So don't come on with any high and mighty shit about what I'm supposed to be doing for you, because I won't buy it. You're just an impotent jerk who can't get his cock up to screw his wife."
Phil was boiling now. "You apologize for that," he said.
"Impotent," she went on, "totally without power."
"Stop it," he shouted.
"Fucking little wimp, pansy, goddam impotent bastard."
"Shut up I tell you!"
"What'd you gonna do, beat me up," she taunted. "Go ahead if it makes you feel like more of a man-"
She was cut off by the hardest smack she had ever felt in her life. It met her cheek full on, and sent her sprawling to the floor. She had finally cracked through his shell, and he stood before her, pacing back and forth across the room frantically, fire almost shooting out of his nostrils. "You're going to take that back," he said to her, "you're going to take that back or I'll ... "
"Do what?" she asked through tears as he fell at a temporary loss for words. "Do anything you want you bastard, it'll only hurt you in court, and you aren't even a man anyway, so what do you care-"
She was stopped short immediately as he kicked her in the rump, giving her several really good shots. She felt like her ass had been hit by lightning, and she crawled around on all fours, finally collapsing as he put his foot on her butt, and pushed her down on the floor.
"So," he said, smiling now, though still very angry, pinning her to the floor with his foot. "So, you think I'm not much of a man, huh? You think I'm a wimp? And you won't do as you're told? Well, somebody didn't raise you very well, I see, didn't teach you any manners, didn't show you that whatever functions you perform in married life are supposed to be for the purpose of satisfying your husband?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He immediately pressed his foot down harder, and she let out a brief shout.
"Silence when I talk to you, do you understand that? I was willing to let you off with just cleaning up this mess, but that won't be good enough for now, do you understand that, cunt? You're going to pay for what you did to me, and you're going to pay very dearly. By the time the night is finished, you'll know what is expected of you from now on, and you had damn well better see that I am pleased with you, because if I'm not, there's going to be a lot more lessons like this one taught, and they won't get any easier."
With that he took his foot away, and yanked her to her feet. He pulled her over to the sofa. She was very angry now, but at the same time deathly afraid. She'd go through this with an unbreakable mask, she decided to herself, and I'll make sure not to give him the satisfaction of crying. It will all be over soon, and then I'll just call the police.
He sat down on the sofa, and put her over his lap, took down her panties, hands gentle over them so as to get the buttocks to relax. Janet resisted this ploy, keeping the muscles very firmly clenched. "So," he said, "I see we're going to play a little game are we?" He suddenly pulled his hand off, and jammed his finger between the cheeks, sticking it into her asshole, and driving it as far up as he could. Janet started, held in the howl of pain that this produced, but finally had to yell it out as he grinned at her discomfort, pushed the finger as far in and as hard as he could.
"There," he said. "We can't really control our feelings that much, now can we? You might as well forget about feeling no pain, my darling, because if you wanted to avoid that, you overstepped whatever line there was."
"Don't you dare call me darling, you miserable bas-" she was cut off again, this time by five very hard smacks against her bare rear which Philip delivered without warning. She had shouted her pain, and writhed on his lap after he had finished and paused for a moment."
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your husband, cunt." He sneered this at her in a fashion that was totally unknown to her. "You're going to pay for that and for every indignity that you've had the nerve to heap on me tonight. I just hope that you take the lesson to heart."
He wound up, and laid another five hard ones on her defenseless ass, and didn't let up until she'd been tattooed by twenty-five hits in all. She was crying now, the tears streaming down her cheeks, crimson spots all over her ass from where he had beaten her. He stood her up, and walked her over to the middle of the room.
"Alright, now you're going to stand there with your legs spread, you got that? You're going to spread your legs nice and wide, so keep those fucking panties off. That's good," he said as she obeyed. "Now you're going to bend over and grab your ankles, cunt." She did so again. She could see him very vaguely, the tears were running back into her eyes making vision difficult, but she saw him remove his belt.
"No, please Phil. I'll be hurt!"
"Oh, I'm not worried about that, my little princess, rest assured, you'll be. That goes without saying. But it's unfortunately too late for a simple cleaning to get you back into my good graces. A little too much, a little too stridently put, has been said for me to think about letting you escape this punishment." He quickly wound the belt up, and delivered a crashing blow that exploded against her buttocks with incredible force. It was followed by another, then another, then finally falling into, a steady rhythm that showed no signs of easing, ho signs of respite, no mercy, no letting up for the longest time.
Janet was totally helpless, and totally humiliated. Each smack brought a fresh cry from her lips. She wanted desperately to be able to remain silent through the beating, but it simply hurt too much. She had never considered Phil capable of doing this, and the tears in her eyes were as much for her demented husband as they were for her.
Phil began letting up a little on the ass, now, taking meticulous aim, and bringing the full force of the blows either on some tender, highly red part of the buttocks, or else against the backs of the legs. He ran the belt up and down her legs, and up into her crotch, letting it stroke across her pussy. It was at about this time that Janet began noticing something strange. She had first felt it in the aftermath of the over the knee spanking, and had ignored it, but it now seemed quite obvious to her, and she found it truly remarkable.
Her pussy had gotten wet.
There was no mistaking it now. The belt picked up some of the moisture, and she could feel it as Phil ran it up and down her legs. He now reached up into her snatch, letting his cuff rub against the marked flesh of the rounded bottom of her flanks. The shirt cuffs did scratch a little bit, but to be honest, she found this not all that unpleasant, especially combined with the fingers rummaging through her bush, which they presently were doing. She felt him stick one, then, after wiggling it around to widen the pussy, she felt the second, then the third, and before long he had his entire hand squeezed into her vagina, and he pushed it in all the way up to the wrist. He moved it in and out very rapidly, and suddenly, she felt the renewed sting of the belt against the reddened flesh of her bottom.
She rocked with something not unlike pleasure now, feeling the fingers penetrate her to the full depth of her cunt, occasionally spreading out against the side walls when Phil thought her in need of a little extra. He brought the belt down harder still, and her grunts and groans now more nearly resembled the sounds of sexual gratification.
He jerked his hand out of her now, and stood back to survey his handiwork. He laughed out loud, a wicked, full throated laugh, the kind that she had never heard from him before. He circled her, and put his foot up to her face. He touched the tip of his shoe to her cheek, gently bringing it up so that her lips were touching it. "Kiss it," he said. She could see the teardrops on the surface of the shoe. She brought her lips to it, leaving a small patch of moisture on it. He now manipulated his foot around so that the bottom of the shoe, the filthy sole, was against her smooth cheek. He smiled wickedly.
"Kiss the bottom of the shoe." She obeyed, not wanting to displease him. "Now stick out your tongue," he told her, "stick out your tongue, and give the shoe a good licking, from top to bottom." She hesitated, a delay that cost her as the belt was raised and brought down on her ass. She jumped from the blow, and quickly stuck as much of her tongue as she could against the bottom of the shoe, and licked in a long wide strip that extended from the tip, all the way down to the heel.
"That's a good little cuntie," he told her, watching the words burning her ears. "That's a good little cunt, just the kind that I want. You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you?"
She immediately took the cue. "Yes master, yes, I'm very, very bad."
"A bad little cunt has to be spanked, now doesn't she?"
"Yes master." He demanded that she repeat the whole sentence. "A bad little cunt has to be spanked, and I am a bad little cunt." He seemed very pleased by this last little addition. Very pleased indeed.
"That's very good," he told her. "It's very nice to know that you want to obey and please me, that shows admirable initiative. But it won't soften the punishment that I'm giving you. You wouldn't be able to learn the lesson properly it I did, would you?"
"No, master, I want my punishment, I want all of it now."
Phil suddenly stepped behind her, and stuck his face between her ass cheeks. He put his tongue out, and very gently ran it across Janet's dripping pussy. She had found the shoe kissing arousing in spite of herself. She had felt disgust at the taste of the bottom of the shoe, but had nonetheless felt a tingling inside of her that could not be mistaken. It was the tickle of sexual arousal, and she now realized that her pussy was extremely moist, and she was in an advanced state of arousal.
She jumped as the tongue suddenly found the clitoris. Phil just touched it once, took his tongue from it, and then came back, shooting it quickly back and forth over the tender button, sending shivers of erotic happiness up Janet's frame. She caught her breath as he slipped the tongue inside her cunt, let out a long moan of contentment, and then jumped again, as he quickly returned to the clitoris, moving his moist tongue over her as rapidly as he could. She was getting very excited, when suddenly he stopped, then slipping his hand down to the sensitive slit once again.
He rubbed his other hand against the battered cheeks, slipping his finger in and out of her cunt as he did so. "Oh Phil," she wiggled, moaning and cooing. "Phil," she said over and over. "Phil, that feels so good, don't stop, please." He suddenly pulled his hand away, slapped her on the rear, and yanked her to a full standing position.
"Feels good, huh?" he said to her. "Well, we don't want to do too much of that. Might forget the purpose of this little lesson, now mightn't we? I haven't even gotten to the main event, but since you seem to be responding well to the treatment, let's get on to that segment of the festivities right away." With that he left the room, telling her to stay where she was. He returned a few moments later with a piece of rope. He pulled her hands behind her back, and tied the wrists together. He moved her over to the coffee table, and forced her to spread herself out over it, so that her legs rested on the floor. He raised the belt once again, bringing it down with as hard a crack as she had felt all night. He did this a bit longer, then walked into the kitchen, telling her to remain there.
Her breasts underneath her, she could feel the cool wood of the table against her gradually turning wet with her perspiration. She was very turned on. She couldn't understand it. The last cracks hadn't hurt, but she had rather found pleasure in the sharp burns placed on her by the leather belt. Phil now came out and showed her what he had gotten. It was a wooden mixing spoon, a little over a foot long. She recalled that her mother had occasionally spanked her with one like it when she was a naughty girl, and she wondered what Phil was going to do with it now. He told her to suck on it. She obeyed, taking the rough wooden stem into her mouth. Phil moved it in and out comfortably, obviously not wanting to leave any splinters in her mouth. He got it good and wet, and then withdrew it.
Janet had been disappointed with this turn of events, because she had been enjoying the hard shaft in her mouth. She had little reason for disappointment, however, for just then, she felt the thin rod pushing its way up her cunt. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have her honey hole filled once more, in any fashion.
Phil now moved behind her, and wound up again. He stood so that one hand struck her with the belt, and used the other to manipulate the stick. He didn't shove it in and out, but rather moved it up and down, much like a jack handle doing this for several minutes, until he pulled it out, and put the spoon end of it into her. This pushed her cunt tunnel much more, and she let her passion out, sighing and shaking uncontrollably as the thick shaft of the spoon pushed into her tender cavern of desire.
Phil began spanking her again, this time letting the blows fall at long intervals. She was conscious now of almost nothing but the movement inside her cunt, pushing at the limits of her insides, driving her further and further into a state of excitement such as she hadn't felt in the longest time. He let her ass have one more hard smack, and then threw the belt down, yanked the spoon out, and pulled her to her feet.
"Alright," he said, "I want you to jump in place. Just kick your heels up as though you were trying to touch them to your ass." She was gasping with the throes of an imminent orgasm, but she now managed to get up the energy to do as he commanded. Each time she landed, he hit her on the bottom with the wooden spoon. This tended to affect a smaller area than did the belt, and the hurt was different. It smacked against her, leaving a sharp sensation that left immediately rather than the lingering burn that the belt left. Phil was shouting at her, "jump, jump, jump higher! I want to see those tits bouncing in the air."
Every landing brought a new shot to the ass, and the constant jumping was leaving her very short of breath. She suddenly realized that this was not merely exhaustion. She was getting sexually excited, and was nearing her orgasm. Her husband beat her faster and faster, and her excitement increased accordingly. She was out of her head with the various stimulations, and gasped and gasped as her breath got harder and harder. She could feel the sweat rolling off her, the cunt juices starting to drip out of her pussy, and as her nipples became erect, she felt the goose flesh stand out over her entire body, the chills running through every part of her.
She hit her climax, and fell on the floor. Phil stood over her, madly beating her crimson rear with the spoon, driving her into a frenzy of sensual delight. She shuddered with the force of her orgasm, shivering, trembling, and Phil continued beating her, every blow just adding to the intensity of her sexual bliss.
He finally finished, and she collapsed on the floor, spreading herself out full length, belly down, tits against the carpet. They squished out to the side, the nipples visible at the edge. Phil stood before her, drinking a glass of water. She stretched herself out, putting her lips to his shoe, and planted kisses all over the shoe top, working her way up to the laces, then the ankles.
Phil watched this for a few minutes, then stood her up, marching her to the bedroom. He went into the bathroom, and began to run the shower. He came out to her. "I'm going to get myself clean, and I want you to remain here very still. You aren't to make a noise, and you aren't to stir, not even a little bit. I will be back shortly, and then you'll get the last stage of your lesson. I think that you'll find it more enjoyable than the last, but then who knows? Maybe you've discovered something about yourself."
His shower gave her plenty of time to mull over that thought. She stood there, not moving a muscle. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and she felt the flames of the fire he had lit on her ass. It tingled and burned throughout her buttocks moving about as the sensitized nerve endings jangled about. It must be very red, she thought to herself, it must be quite a sight to look at. I wish I could see it in the mirror, she thought. What a kinky turn on that would be.
She was completely shocked. Phil was totally different. This was not the man she had married, nor the man that she had lived with these past ten months. The change was remarkable. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was a change for the better. He was a man of some kind of passion now. The fact that he had struck her hardly seemed to matter. He had brought her to an orgasm, the first that she had ever known. She had wanted desperately to hold him, but the forced binding of her hands prevented that, increasing the desire, and thereby turning her on even more. She had never felt so open and relaxed with him, as in the forced submission that made those feelings which he normally couldn't arouse to come bursting forth in the most pronounced way imaginable.
Her head was a sea of thoughts and contradictory feelings. She had wanted to leave him, but now felt more drawn to him by the force of her explosion. She had screamed for a divorce, but now felt as though she belonged more completely than ever. She couldn't forget that moment when she suddenly realized that she had moistened at the excitement of being spanked. She remembered it now, and she felt the same thrill well up inside her as she thought of herself helplessly extended over his lap, the force of his hand penetrating through the many layers of flesh, finally shaking her sex organs enough to set her up for the thrill of her coming.
He finally emerged from the shower. His cock was half erect as he walked out, rubbing the towel through his hair. He began to whistle, and as he finished, he flung the towel so that it landed on her head, blocking her vision effectively. He moved about, and stated up the hair dryer. He worked at that for five minutes, then disappeared again. And she wondered what fate awaited her now. He had spoken of this being the more enjoyable part, so she couldn't imagine what would happen. She quivered thinking about it, the chills running up and down her body as she relived the spankings, the demeaning positions over and over.
He grabbed her again, and marched her wordlessly over to the bed. He forced her down, leaving the towel over her head. She was on her knees, her trembling pussy open to him. He was behind her. She could only sense his presence. He ran his hand up her thigh and she jumped, unhinged by the mere touch of his hand. She felt indescribable excitement in the way he simply moved his hand up and down the insides of her legs. He would come up by the cunt and just circle it, allowing his finger to get tangled up in her bush, but taking care to avoid the pussy. He then ran his hand up to the asshole, and slipped in a finger very gently.
Janet felt the rectal muscles resist, but instead of forcing his way in this time, he pulled out the tiniest bit, the pushed a little harder, pulling back again, pushing, until the small movements gradually relaxed the sphincter sufficiently to allow his finger all the entry it desired. She felt her entire body let go. Waves of pleasure began surging up from the asshole, hitting every muscle fiber in her body, and working the same kind of magic on her. Her legs were the first to feel it, then her belly, her breasts, her arms and shoulders. The muscles seemed to begin to fall away from the skeletal frame, and she began to feel as though her flesh was turning to liquid bit by bit and dripping on the bed.
He worked her asshole slowly, not wanting to hurt now, getting her into a steady rhythm where her breath helped carry her along. She could hear herself begin to moan. She began to concentrate on the rate at which her lungs expanded and contracted, and soon found herself worked in an unmistakable pattern. This began to work on her by itself making her even more excited, and just when she was sure she would lose all control of herself, he pulled the finger out.
He ran it up the spine. "You liked that, now, didn't you?" She told him yes. "Well, it looks as though you've learned your lesson, and are behaving like a good little cunt after all. That deserves a reward. I am going to give to you the greatest present that a master can bestow on his cunt." With that, he stopped running his hand up her spine. She felt something against the wet lips of her pussy, and suddenly felt herself thrust open and burst apart by his hot, flaming rod of passion.
She let out a tremendous burst of joy. He was inside her, she thought, he was fucking, and unless he had something very cruel planned at this point, he would continue to fuck her. This was more than she had dreamed possible. She felt him thrust the full length of her cunt, and she moaned and rocked with the ecstatic pleasure she had too long been without.
She could feel the fingers of his hands reaching around to grab and squeeze her tits. His thighs battered her tender behind, and she felt his balls slapping up against her as he violently plunged desperately into her burning insides. The tender flesh of her ass transmitted so many more pleasant sensations through her. She felt the tingling flames move up from the buttocks as he bumped against her, and she felt the electric surges begin to emanate.
She felt his cock stiffen, and she readied herself for his explosion. Suddenly, he stopped thrusting; but left his prick shoved as far into her as possible, and pinched and pulled at her nipples. This drove her crazy, teasing her intolerably as she was on the verge of her own orgasm. He kept it up for several minutes, and prickles of delight shot through her tits.
He now began thrusting again, and she came, panting beneath him as he covered her entire body with his. He shot his wad into her, driving it in as far as he could. Her cunt blew up with the force of his ejaculating, pulsing prick, and by the time he had finished, she was a sobbing, trembling wreck, moaning uncontrollably. He remained on top of her, the two of them gradually breathing in unison.
He withdrew from her slowly. He removed the towel, and rubbed her hair tenderly. He now untied her hands, and took her in his arms, gently kissing her face. "I love you very much," he stated. "I'm terribly sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
She couldn't believe her ears. Forgive you! My God, she thought, you've just given me everything that I wanted. She threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and circling it around his. When she broke off the kiss, she moved over to his ear. "I love you too," she said, "and I just want to let you know what that meant to me."
They hugged each other very tight, and fell asleep in erotic entanglement.