Wife In Bondage 3

“ Kneel!”

The order was like a whiplash. Dutifully my wife dropped to her knees. My view of her was obscured by the back of the man dressed, as always, from head to toe in black, but it wasn't hard to determine what was going on.

No further order was given, no words spoken. There was no need. My wife understood well enough what was expected of her. I understood only too well how eager she was to do it.

Though unable to see her mouth, I also understood perfectly what she was doing. I could see it in front of me, even though I couldn't see; her tongue working its way slowly up the man's thick shaft, sheathed in black rubber as always; kissing it; licking it again; then finally plunging her lips over the thick cock. I could just about see her head bobbing up and down.

This time we had both been admitted to Mr Black's house. Well, summoned would, I suppose, be a better word. His instructions had been delivered via the inbox on the site where my wife published her racy stories. They were clear and uncomplicated. He would leave the front door open for us. I was to enter the second door on the left, my wife the third door on the left. We were both to strip naked in our respective rooms. A chair would be provided for me to sit on.

The clandestine, cloak and dagger stuff felt mildly ridiculous, but ridiculous was not the first word that sprang to mind now. What was ridiculous was the fact that I was still going along with things. I had tried half-heartedly to suggest to my wife that it was time to end this stupid game, but my attempt was precisely half-hearted at best. Partly this was because I knew it wouldn't be any use protesting. As I mentioned last time, my wife was the only person in the world I couldn't say no to, and for whatever reason, she was determined to continue with this.

And the fact is, that for the past few weeks my wife was more alive than I could remember seeing her. She'd always been lively and full of joy, but now she seemed to radiate euphoria from some well within herself all the time. I didn't understand it at all, especially since I was not allowed to touch her for a whole week – well not like that . But there was something about her joie de vivre that made me reluctant to ruin it, however conflicted I felt within myself. Besides, this time I would be in the house myself, not just watching from a distance on a computer screen as I had the previous two times.

I wasn't at all prepared for the sight that met us when we entered Mr Black's house. What was, from the outside, an ageing brick pile, was as clinical as a hospital inside. We entered directly into an institutional style corridor, neither of us speaking, but both of us looking around at the bare walls, sterility lighting the space.

The second door on the left was already open. This room, too, was bare, with just a wooden chair for me to sit on. I closed the door and discovered that the room had a window onto the next room, the one my wife had been instructed to enter. I understood immediately that it was made of one-way glass. Equipping this place must have cost a fortune, I thought, wondering even more who this Mr Black was.

Reluctantly I stripped naked, surprised to find the temperature quite pleasant. I didn't like having to get naked one bit, but, I kept reminding myself, I would do anything for my wife.

I could see her remove her own clothes through the window; slowly, with a faint air of expectancy. The room she was in was at least furnished, albeit in a way that resembled a doctor's surgery. There was no desk, but there were a few chairs scattered around, and an examination table in the centre of the room. Steel cabinets lined one of the walls. As my wife exposed her soft, voluptuous body, I could see her glancing around, some slight apprehension in her eyes.

Then we waited, in our respective rooms.

It didn't take long for Mr Black to appear. As soon as he had entered the room where my wife waited, he uttered that one word: “Kneel!”, upon which my wife did exactly what was expected of her, and, I guessed, what she wanted to do.

When my wife had satisfied Mr Black thus far, he ruffled her hair and patted her on the head with his black gloved hand, as if she were a dog. “Good girl,” he praised. “Good girl!”

I still couldn't see my wife's face, but I could hear her voice well enough, half nervous tension half scarcely able to defer her own gratification: “What would you like me to do now, Mr Black?”

Mr Black's commanding response came immediately: “Lay down on the examination table, Christine. Keep your legs together and place your arms along your sides.”

My wife rose and moved over to the table, positioning herself exactly as ordered. She was facing in my direction, but our relative positions prevented me from seeing her expression properly. Mr Black could, however, as he moved to the side of the table. “You certainly know what you like, Christine,” he said.

“ Yes, Mr Black,” my wife responded.

Mr Black said nothing further, instead walking slowly round the table looking down on my wife. The tension was unbearable. Then, finally, he said: “I've seen how your husband spanked you when you returned to the car after your last visit.”

There was a pause, then my wife said: “It was no more than I deserved, Mr Black.”

“ Really?” Mr Black barked with a laugh. “Why's that?”

Here there was an even longer pause. I could see my wife's chest heaving. “Because I long for your cock more than my husband's, Mr Black.”

At this point Mr Black was facing away from me, but I could sense his wicked smile anyway. “You don't say.” Again he was silent, circling the examination table once more. “And have you had the pleasure of your husband's cock since he fucked you over the boot of your car?”

“ No, Mr Black.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because you ordered it, Mr Black. And because I wanted to save myself for you... for your big cock, Mr Black.” Already I was beginning to wish I'd been firmer with my wife. If it made her happy, this business with Mr Black, well that was one thing. But this constant humiliation, the constant assertions that she wanted him more than me, this was sickening stuff. I didn't have time to dwell on the matter, however, for the door to my own room suddenly opened.

I recognised the woman instantly, for she it was who had surreptitiously filmed me spanking my wife and fucking her over the boot of the car once Mr Black had released her the last time my wife and the man had met. Then I had only caught a glimpse of the woman. At the time I had thought she resembled a witch, but now I saw that she was more attractive than that, though her features suggested she might be anywhere between 20 and 60. A long, black fringe partly obscured her eyes, while cosmetics had been applied giving her face a dark, haunted look, and she was wearing what I took to be the same flowing black dress as when I'd seen her before.

“ Mrs Black, I presume,” I joked, in spite of everything. This was, however, no place for jokes, and Mrs Black (if indeed she was) didn't bat en eyelid or raise a cheekbone.

In the next room, Mr Black had stepped over to one of the steel cabinets. I saw him take out a large, glass dildo, but then my attention slipped again, for the mysterious woman was on her knees in front of me.

To my shame, regardless of what I was feeling otherwise, or what I felt I should be feeling, my cock was rock hard. The woman leaned forwards and closed her lips round my erection without a word. I felt light-headed, unable to believe this was happening. Then I felt even more guilty. I should push this woman away. But the fact of the matter was that my wife had just gone down on her knees and sucked Mr Black. The fact of the matter was that a week ago she had appeared from this very house and demonstrated how she had taken his sperm in her mouth.

In the other room Mr Black was moving the glass dildo slowly between my wife's full mammaries. “So, Christine,” he said. “What would you like to happen today?”

“ I'd like you to fuck me!” my wife breathed, without much in the way of hesitation, her nipples big and hard and pointing straight at the ceiling.

“ Now, now,” Mr Black murmured. “You know that you must specify where you want me to fuck you.”

My wife had previously been reticent about using such language, but gradually her reserve had been broken down, and now she freely exclaimed: “My cunt, Mr Black! I'd like for you to fuck my tight, juicy cunt!”

“ Now we're getting somewhere,” Mr Black said. The tip of the glass dildo moved slowly down my wife's body, coming to rest on her mound of Venus.

While all this was going on, the woman before me was sliding her lips over me continuously. I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, but I had never experienced anything like it. I can't even begin to describe it. All I can say is that I got the feeling she was in complete control of me. I felt that if she had a mind to, she could have sucked every last drop of sperm out of my bollocks at the drop of a hat.

Mr Black slid the tip of the glass dildo down between my wife's labia, so that it came in contact with her clit. She gave a gasp as Mr Black said: “Maybe you'd like me to fuck you with this?”

My wife's legs were beginning to part spontaneously as she said: “I'd rather have your big cock,” Mr Black.

“ Keep your legs together!” the man admonished.

“ I'm sorry, Mr Black,” my wife said, making sure her thighs were pressed up against each other. “It's just, you make me so hot, Mr Black.”

The tension was unbearable. My own balls were aching now. I felt like I'd been on the verge of coming at least three times, but the woman whose lips and tongue were working my cock seemed to be able to control me as easily as if I'd been an electrical appliance.

Mr Black removed the dildo from my wife, using a gloved finger instead to tease her sensitive point. “And what makes you think I want to fuck you, Christine?”

“ You promised!” my wife burst out, her body shifting slightly in pure indignation.

“ So I did,” Mr Black said slowly. “And I'm a man of my word.” I could hear my wife breathing heavily from the delight of having her clit teased. “But at the same time, I'm not minded to give you what you want just like that, Christine. You'll have to work for it.”

There was a bit of a pause. The woman before me slid her lips right to the root of my cock, which gave a twitch, but without coming. How did she do it?

Then my wife's voice rang out from the other room. “Please, Mr Black, I beg of you. Hardly a moment goes by when I don't think about your big hard cock, when I don't want it inside me. Please, fuck me, Mr Black!”

Lips were caressing my cock with slow rhythmic movements. I felt the warm saliva there, felt my resistance yield to the mysterious creature providing me with such delicious pleasure. In the other room my wife was fidgeting, trying not to move. There was plenty I wanted to get my head around, but I couldn't hope to concentrate.

Mr Black continued to tease my wife's clit as she breathed heavily and lustily. He said nothing, obviously waiting for my wife to get the picture. After all that had happened this was not difficult; what may or may not have been difficult was for her to bring herself to say it, though I felt she'd made a good start.

Then more words came: “Please, Mr Black, I beg you! Please fuck me!”

“ Oh, sweet Christine,” Mr Black murmured. “I want to fuck you, really I do, but you have to give me more.”

“ Please, Mr Black, I've longed for your big cock all week,” my wife gushed. “Please, please fuck me, Mr Black. Every night I dream of you fucking me hard. I'm so wet when I wake up.”

“ Better!” Mr Black admonished.

My wife understood. “My cunt's so wet from longing for your big, hard cock,” she gasped.

“ Let me get this right,” Mr Black said slowly, his finger still softly tickling my wife's clit. “You lay there next to your husband and think about my cock.”

“ Yes!” my wife gasped. “Yes, I do, Mr Black!” She was giving out very strong signs of being extremely excited. I couldn't see her face properly, but I could see the huge swelling on top of her mammary mounds.

“ What would you call someone who laid in bed thinking of someone other than their husband?” Mr Black asked.

My wife got this message too: “Oh, Mr Black! I admit! I'm a slut! I'm a slut for wanting your big cock, Mr Black! Please, please fuck me, Mr Black! I beg you, fuck me!”

“ I don't know,” Mr Black said.

“ Please!” my wife cried, obviously much too elated for her own good. “Please fuck me!”

“ Perhaps I should let your husband fuck you,” Mr Black said. “I mean you've gone as long without his cock as you have without mine. Would you like that, Christine?”

“ No!” my wife burst out. Suddenly the words came in a mad torrent: “I want you to fuck me, Mr Black! I want you to take me and fuck me hard with your big cock! Fuck me and make me your slut, Mr Black! Make me your slut forever!”

The humiliating aspect of this for me was augmented by the sudden realisation that I was unable to hold back. As my wife lay there begging Mr Black to fuck her, begging for him to make her his slut, my seed was flowing out into the mouth of the woman on her knees in front of me.

Shame tore through me as my own sticky cum trickled down my rod. How had things come to this? The woman rose, licking her lips, but otherwise impassive. It was then that the devilish plan came to its full fruition with even more humiliation heaped on me.

Mr Black had taken a step back. “No, Christine,” he said. “I've decided that your husband should be allowed to fuck you. Fuck you first. Warm you up, make you ready for me.”

My wife didn't respond to this other than to breathe loudly, but the woman was beckoning for me to follow her out of my room. I rose, steeling myself for the humiliation to come.

Without a word I was lead out of the room into the corridor. The strange woman opened the next door for me, but didn't follow me in. Instead the door was closed behind me as I stared at Mr Black's mask, the mask that allowed me to see his smile, but no more than that. “Oh dear!” he exclaimed with a mixture of feigned shock and amusement. “It would seem, Christine, that your husband is temporarily out of commission.”

Now my eyes fell on my wife. In the brief interval she had been pulled forward so that her buttocks were resting on the edge of the examination table. There were question marks in her eyes, but also so much more. Knowing my wife as I did, I had no trouble in reading her expression. She was pleading with me to play along, to not do anything to upset Mr Black. Begging me to allow Mr Black to carry his designs through.

As I've pointed out before, I can never say no to my wife, so as humiliating and shaming as the situation was, I forced myself to swallow my ire.

Mr Black had moved swiftly towards the cabinets. “Well since you're here, you may as well make yourself useful,” he said. A roll of black tape was tossed my way. Catching me by surprise it bounced off my arm and I had to bend over to retrieve it. Mr Black continued, undaunted: “Now bind the slut's arms to the legs of the table.”

I couldn't look at my wife. Blood was roaring in my ears, my crushing humiliation causing my temples to contract. My wife lay passively, letting me take her arm and move it into position so that I could wind the tape several times round it and the leg of the table before pulling a large stretch over to the other side. Taking my wife's other arm, I secured that to the other leg of the table.

“ Excellent!” Mr Black said, sounding almost genial. He was standing to one side of the table, stooping to bring forth three chains which I understood to be fixed underneath the table by one end. He slung the chains across my wife's body. “Secure these properly!” he ordered. “Make sure they're tight!”

It didn't take long for me to find the hooks underneath the table that were designed for the purpose. I pulled the chains across and secured them as tightly as I dared without risking an injury to my wife; one just above her breasts, one across her rib cage, and one across her stomach. Once again I'd allowed myself to render my wife helpless for this perverse, masked man's pleasure. Worse was to come.

“ Straddle the slut!” Mr Black ordered. At first I misunderstood him, and with a sigh he provided clarification.

The examination table was set at pelvis-height, and as I moved over my wife my balls and my still slimy, if ineffectual cock dragged across her face. Once my balls were dangling against her stomach, Mr Black said: “Now lift up the slut's legs!”

Again, as if I was a simple automaton, I did as I was told, bending forward and managing to lift my wife's legs, pulling her knees back. How I hated Mr Black when I saw him lick his lips. I hated him even more when the order came: “Open her cunt for me!”

I slid my hands along the backs of my wife's thighs. I felt the full weight of humiliation on me, but as my fingertips moved in between my wife's labia, something else came upon me too. I pulled, opening my wife up for Mr Black to take a good look.

I saw his lips twist themselves into a smile. “Very good,” he said. “So very wet. I'd say your wife was gagging for a good hard cock in her cunt, wouldn't you?”

I understood that my discomfit was as much of a pleasure to Mr Black as the view of my wife's open tunnel, but I couldn't prevent the thing from happening that I hoped wouldn't. As I opened my wife up for this sadistic pervert, I could sense blood beginning to flow to my cock. “Yes,” I murmured.

Mr Black gave a little chuckle. “A nice juicy, eminently fuckable cunt,” he mused. “Spread the slut's legs properly. Make sure you hold her legs spread for me.”

I slid my hands back up my wife's legs, backing up with my whole body until I could feel her swollen nipples against my buttocks. With my hands around her ankles, I held her legs as far apart as my arms would allow, pulling them back at the same time. My shame was now as complete as it could be, with the renewed throbbing of my now fully erect cock. And there I was, holding my wife open for another man.

Mr Black gave a malicious chuckle. Then he stepped forward and his cock sliced into my wife's moist vagina. Up until now my wife had been silent, save for the intensity of her breathing. Now she let out a wild, uncontrolled moan.

Mr Black's sheathed cock drove a hard bargain inside my wife. Her juices sloshed vigorously as the man fucked her, her moans became screams, words spewing forth: “Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Mr Black! Fuck me! I love your cock, Mr Black! I've longed for it! I've longed for you to fuck me! So good! Yes! Yes!”

Despite his cock moving almost frenziedly in my wife, Mr Black seemed to remain calm and collected as he gave a little chuckle. Catching my eye he said: “She's so enthusiastic, your wife. The perfect fuck, the perfect cunt.”

Behind me my wife cried out: “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Hard! I love your big cock, Mr Black!”

Mr Black's mouth twisted into a leer. The Mask was constructed so as to conceal his eyes, but I fancied he was staring straight at my rigid cock. “So wet,” he announced. “So tight. Such a delight to fuck.” The last word was spat out. “If I was a betting man I'd say Christine was about to cum on my cock. Am I right, slut?”

My wife's response game in the sound of something between a moan and a feral growl. Her cunt sloshed with desire as Mr Black's cock piled into her relentlessly. From where I was standing I could see the juices sluicing out of her.

“ Answer me, slut!” Mr Black barked.

My wife sounded as if she was gasping for air when she uttered: “How could I not cum on your cock, Mr Black? Your big cock is so wonderful. You are so wonderful to me!”

She seemed to be shifting under me, trying to wriggle her way to a climax. Her nipples were big and hard, and I had a fanciful intimation that they were sharp enough to pierce my buttocks. Still I stood there passively holding my wife for this fiendish man to fuck. The humiliation was great, but just as I've never been able to deny my wife anything, so I found it hard to steel myself against her obvious and very vocal pleasure. I was as sure as I could be that she would indeed climax at any moment.

“ Did I say you could cum, slut?” Mr Black suddenly barked.

“ Please, Mr Black!” my wife cried, and I could hear the near panic in her voice. “Please let me cum!”

“ Maybe I will, maybe I won't,” Mr Black said. Then, suddenly he stepped back, his cock sliding out of my wife, the black rubber glistening with my wife's errant arousal. “But not just yet, at any rate.”

“ Noooooo!” my wife cried out. “Please, Mr Black! You mustn't! Mustn't stop! I need to cum! Please fuck me again! Please fuck me and make me cum on your big hard cock! Please fuck me with your lovely big cock, Mr Black! I'll be your slut forever if you'll just fuck me and make me cum on your big cock!”

“ You really know what a man wants to hear, don't you, you little slut,” Mr Black chuckled, making no attempt to do as my wife bade.

I remained, stupidly, passively where I was, holding my wife's legs spread with my shameful erection pointing obscenely at Mr Black.

“ Please, Mr Black,” my wife whined. Make me cum! I'm desperate to cum!”

Mr Black just barked a laugh. “Hold her!” he commanded, which was what I was doing in any case. More tape appeared, Mr Black winding it round my wife's calves and fixing it to the examination table. “Right,” he then told me, “you've outlived your usefulness. Go!”

When I removed my hands, my wife's legs remained stretched wide, pulled back, held in place by Mr Black's expert handiwork. As I backed up my balls once again slid over her face. Looking at my wife it was is if I wasn't there, her attention focused entirely on Mr Black, her eyes begging, pleading, beseeching.

I was resigned to return the next room and watch, but when I exited, I found the strange woman waiting. With no more than a nod she made me understand I was to follow her. Shortly I found myself in a lushly furnished lounge, which contrasted strangely with the sterile areas I'd seen hitherto. The woman indicated an armchair and I sat down. There was a drink on the table in front of me.

Briefly I toyed with the idea that it might have been spiked, but I put the thought out of my mind. That wasn't how this worked. Whatever else he might be or do, Mr Black would want all involved to remain sensible. The strange woman sat down in an armchair diagonally across from me, a drink set out before her too. On a table next to her was an appliance. She reached out a hand and pushed a button.

It took a moment for me to understand what I was hearing. The sound system was obviously transmitting from the room where Mr Black was taking his perverse pleasure with my wife. The first sound, which I had trouble identifying was odd and metallic, but I quickly understood it was the sound of the examination table as my wife tugged helplessly against her bonds. I understood this because it was followed by my wife crying out: “Aaaaaahhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”

The humiliation was enormous. My erection had not fully died down, and now it returned with renewed force at the sound of my wife, as I sat there naked, the strange woman impassively glancing at me. I reached out and sipped the drink, hoping that would somehow numb my shame. This had to stop, I thought, all of it. However unaccustomed I was to putting my foot down with my wife, I would have to do it.

My wife, whose voice was still coming over the sound system, though slightly less manic now: “Ooooh! Aaaaah! Oooooh!”

“ Good girl!” Mr Black said, coolly. “I'm sure you can take a bit more, can't you?”

“ I don't know, Mr Black,” my wife whined, her voice sounding strained. “My pussy feels like it's going to burst.”

“ Your cunt!” Mr Black barked. “Use the proper word!”

“ My cunt!” my wife gasped. “I don't know if my cunt can take any more.”

“ Well there's only one way to find out, isn't there?” Mr Black said.

There was a short lull, then my wife's voice cut through the room: “Aaaaaaah! Ooooooooh! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Aaaaaaoooooooh!” Her breathing sounded as if she was hyperventilating.

“ Ah, Christine,” Mr Black said, menacingly. “Your cunt looks so good stretched out like that. You're coming along a treat. Every good slut must be able to accommodate the largest of objects. Are you a good slut, Christine?”

“ Yes I'm a slut!” my wife wailed. “You know I'm a slut, Mr Black. I'm your slut, Mr Black!”

“ Are you a good slut?” Mr Black asked, sounding impatient.

“ Yes, Mr Black,” my wife panted. “I want to be. I want to be a good slut.”

There was a loud sound that suggested extreme suction, then my wife cried out again: “Eeeeooooohhhhaaaaahhhhh!” I listened with a mixture of dread and helplessness threatening to overwhelm me. My wife's voice emerged again: “Please, Mr Black! I beg you! Make me cum! Let me cum!”

“ Now, now, Christine,” came Mr Black's measured tones. “So impatient! You'll come when I decide and not a moment earlier.”

“ Please, Mr Black...”.

“ No!” the man barked. “You will not come yet! Not until you're cunt has been stretched some more.”

There followed at least fifteen minutes of the same; my wife screeching and moaning, the sound of her pussy being abused in ways I could scarcely imagine, begging to be allowed to cum, Mr Black denying her. I wish I could say I was tormented by this, but I was almost beginning to enjoy it. The torment was my wife's, and I felt that she deserved it for putting us, me in this position to begin with.

So I sat there, naked, as my cock refused to die down. The strange woman sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead, occasionally glancing at me, but impossible to read. Who was she, and what was her relationship to Mr Black? Somehow I managed to ponder this at great length, even as my wife's shrieks filled the room.

Then everything reached a head. Mr Black's voice could be heard over the top of my wife panting: “You know, Christine, I don't think I'm of a mind to let you cum today!”

“ No!” my wife cried, obviously desperate. “You must let me cum!”

“ Must?” Mr Black said, his voice stern. “I must do nothing, Christine. You must obey!”

“ I didn't mean to displease you,” my wife said. “Have I displeased you, is that why you won't let me cum?”

“ I won't let you cum,” Mr Black said slowly, “because I want you good and horny when you return in seven days time. In the meantime I don't want you touching yourself, I don't want your husband touching you. I want you so horny you can hardly stand. Do I make myself clear?”

“ But Mr Black!” my wife exclaimed. “I'm always so horny I can hardly stand when I think of you. And all I think about all the time is your big cock, of how I love being at your mercy.”

Mr Black gave a little chuckle. “I'm flattered,” he said, “but my word is final. In a week's time you may cum as many times as you like, but not today.”

There was a pause with my wife's breathing communicating the way she was thinking hard. “I will obey,” she said. “But please, Mr Black, if I am not allowed to cum, will you at least give me your cum?”

“ You want my cum?” Mr Black said.

“ Yes, Mr Black, sir,” my wife said. “This dirty slut would consider it an honour, a privilege to be given your cum, Mr Black.”

Again Mr Black gave a chuckle, but his response was broken off by the strange woman, who simply turned the sound off. I wasn't sure if it was a relief or a disappointment to me. In any case the woman was gesturing to a spot behind me. I turned to see my clothes piled up on a little table. Obviously it was time to leave.

The time it took me to dress and be escorted out to the car, not to mention the five minutes I spent waiting for my wife, gave me time to think. The humiliation of it all flooded over me again, not to mention the idea that this man was now effectively prohibiting me from having sex with my own wife. Everything was upside down, topsy turvy, and I was feeling as if my own inclinations were stood on end.

My wife finally emerged, looking as virginal in her white dress and sandals as she had when we'd arrived. Behind the look of a woman who has been treated to just about everything she could wish for except the final release, I felt she looked a little worried, even a little guilty, and this pleased me. It fed into the determination I was trying hard to conjure forth.

“ Take off your panties,” I told her as soon as she was in the car.

“ Darling, don't,” she said. “I can't.”

“ Why?” I said. “Did he cum there?”

“ No,” she answered, with greater ease than I expected. “He came in my mouth and made me swallow it all down.”

I started the engine. I wasn't going to get anywhere here, now. No doubt my foot pushed down a little too hard on the accelerator as I drove us home, but by now I'd made my decision, an almost necessary decision if I were to preserve the remains of my severely dented manliness.

By the time we got home I had calmed down enough outwardly for everything to appear as normal, but that was merely an act. I followed my wife through to the kitchen, and when she'd taken a swig from a bottle of juice in the fridge, pushed her up against the cabinets.

“ Get your fucking panties off,” I told her as my hand moved up under her dress.

My wife's eyes widened, as if in shock and surprise. “Don't do this,” she said. “Please, I made a promise. Don't make me break it.”

Normally I would let my wife have her way, but not this time. “What's the matter?” I said, tearing her panties as I pulled them to one side. “I thought you were desperate to cum?”

“ I was... I am,” My wife breathed. “But I promised Mr Black I wouldn't.”

“ I don't care,” I said, doing my hardest not to shout. Instead I dragged my wife across to the table and pushed her up against it. “Get up there and spread your legs,” I ordered.

“ But he'll know,” my wife said, her eyes now betraying that even she understood something was in the process of changing.

“ How will he know?” I sneered. “Now get up there, or am I going to have to force you?”

It wouldn't have been the first time. As I've mentioned before, my wife wrote and published reluctance stories, and we'd acted them out on many occasions. The atmosphere now was, however, completely different, something my wife couldn't fail to notice. The thoughts whirring in her head were practically visible, audible. “I don't know,” she said at last.

The violence of my feelings gave me the strength to lift my wife bodily and plonk her down on the table. “Can't we talk about this?” my wife breathed, but I was unbuttoning the bottom of the dress, enough to expose the tear in her panties. I grabbed hold of them and finished the job.

“ There's nothing to talk about,” I said. “I'm going to make you cum whether you like it or not.”

My wife toppled over on her back as I forced her legs open. “He'll know!” she whispered.

“ Yeah?” I sneered. “Who's gonna tell him?”

Leaning in, I parted her labia roughly. My wife was still sopping wet. I shoved three fingers up her, and her sex swallowed them as if they weren't there. The scent of her arousal was almost overpowering, and I let it overwhelm me. My wife's clit was larger, more swollen than I'd imagined possible. I clenched hold of it with my lips, sliding my tongue over it while I shoved my fingers back and forth in my wife's drenched slit.

“ Darling, you don't understand,” my wife gasped. “He'll know.”

“ What's the problem?” I sneered, pulling back a little. “You've been begging to cum all afternoon, like a little slut.”

My wife gasped out loud, possibly in surprise at my sudden transformation. I moved back in, slithering my tongue all over the swollen bud, rummaging around with my fingers inside her. “Oh fuck!” my wife gasped.

She could easily have wriggled away. In the old days she would have done it to make me grab hold of her and force her as part of our reluctance roleplay. Now it was as if she just submitted, her voice becoming shriller and shriller as she wheezed and panted, gasped and groaned.

I focused all my attention on her unnaturally swollen clit. In my frenzy I fancied her cunt was still smelling of Mr Black's sheathed cock, and my madness increased. Juices were pouring out of my wife as if someone had turned on a tap. I don't know how long or how short a time I went at it. All I know is that my wife was suddenly screaming: “I mustn't cum! I promised!”

But it was to no avail, for nothing could now stop her from cumming in a screaming orgasm, her body shuddering violently on the table.

“ Oh shit!” she moaned. “I promised, I promised!” I didn't care in the slightest. I was already pulling my cock out of my trousers. As I climbed on top of my wife, she stared at me with limp eyes: “Please darling,” she said. “He said there would be consequences.”

I wasn't listening. “What's the matter?” I said. “Would you rather have his cock than mine?”

“ Please darling!” my wife breathed. “I love you, but...”. I drove my cock into her, fucking wildly, feeling her moist innards surround my weapon. My wife's head fell back as she stared at me with wide, indecipherable eyes, unable to stop herself from moaning as I fucked and fucked and finally spent my pent up feelings, shooting my load deep into her tight fuck pit.

“ Oh shit!” my wife moaned as I got back on my feet. I didn't know what to say. On the one hand I felt as if I should apologise, on the other as if I had nothing to be sorry for. I walked over to the window, my eyes not really registering anything at all.

“ Darling,” my wife said. “That was... really liberating. But I did promise...”.

“ How is he ever going to know?” I repeated, a little impatiently.

At that moment I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was her, the woman, except that now she looked witch-like again with tousled hair. She was moving, nay hovering away from the house, but I knew what she'd been doing.

“ He'll know because I'll tell him,” my wife was saying.

“ Don't bother,” I said. “He'll know anyway.”