Wife In Bondage 4

I slept badly. I'd never had trouble sleeping before, but now I often woke up in the middle of the night sweating profusely, having dreamt that my wife had been abducted, or just vanished into thin air. I would reach out and feel her there, hear her breathing softly in her sleep, but it gave me little comfort.

After our latest visit to Mr Black's, I'd decided to do what I wasn't accustomed to doing at all.

“ Don't you think this business is getting out of hand?” I asked her one evening. It wasn't necessary to specify what the business was; there was only one possible thing I could be alluding to.

My wife didn't look directly at me, but at some indeterminate point over my shoulder. “It's not as easy as that,” she said.

“ Of course it is,” I said, a trifle impatiently. “One phone call, and that's that. I mean it's not as if he owns you.”

There was a flicker in my wife's eyes that I couldn't quite decipher, and that I didn't much care for.

“ I can't break it off yet,” she whispered.

My patience already frayed, I said, “Can't or won't?”

My wife let out a sigh, her eyes darting here and there. “There's...” she began eventually. Then, “Please, darling, I know it's hard for you to... experience... to understand. But please... It's something I have to do, that's all. Please trust me.”

Even my trust was fraying, but with my wife looking at me beseechingly, I relented again, as I was so wont to do, cursing myself later for being so weak-willed.

“ Those things I say,” my wife began again, moving closer. “They're... Well, I want you so much darling, I really do, but I want to follow this through, for now.” She kissed me, her hand sliding over my thigh. “When it's all over...” she said. Then the conversation just petered out.

When it's all over, I thought. I wasn't liking this one bit. There was too much unsaid, too much that suggested something was going on that I wasn't privy to. Perhaps it was time for me to do a bit of investigating of my own.

The next day I busied myself with trying to find out exactly who Mr Black was. Very soon I found myself at a dead end. The big house, I discovered, was owned by a company situated in a tax haven, and that particular lead ended there. I toyed with the idea of going past the house on my way home, in a quest to find anything that could give me some inkling of who this person was, but then I felt that it was best not to risk being discovered snooping. As a last desperate measure I considered hiring a private eye, but put the idea to one side for the moment.

I have to admit, that the talk there had been of consequences wasn't entirely displeasing to me. Much as I loved my wife, I also experienced that strange feeling that whatever happened to her was no more than she deserved for getting herself involved in this thing to begin with (well, within reason). Mr Black had forbidden her to get intimate with me, but I had more or less forced her to submit to a licking and a fucking, and Mr Black would know this. So there would be consequences, and there was that tiny part of me that was curious as to what those consequences would be; how mad and depraved this Mr Black was. Perhaps when my wife had tasted the consequences, she would be of a different frame of mind. Perhaps the best thing to do was to just let things run their course.

This was roughly where my thinking rested on the Thursday evening. My wife and I were watching something vaguely uninteresting on TV when her mobile rang. She went to answer it, and immediately made a furtive move out of the room.

I waited briefly before sneaking after her. It wasn't difficult to locate a low murmur coming from the kitchen, and I hid just round the corner, managing to catch my wife's low tones, and the one side of the conversation.

“ I'm sorry, Mr Black... I don't know... What can I do to make it up to you?... Yes, Mr Black... I understand... Yes, I so want your big cock... Much more than I want my husband's...”

There came a longish pause, before my wife resumed, sounding a little more nervous now.

“ Yes, Mr Black... Yes... I am yours to dispose of as you wish... Yes... I will... I promise... If that is your desire, Mr Black... I will obey... I promise... Yes, I understand that I must be punished... Yes... Anything... Anything at all... I yearn for you to use me, Mr Black... Yes... Yes... Oh, Mr Black, being used by you is all I can think of... Your big cock... I so want you to fuck me... Yes... To taste your cum... Yes... Yes... Yes, Mr Black... I promise... I will obey... I will take my punishment gladly if you will only fuck me with your big cock... Yes, Mr Black... Yes...”

Then things stopped, and I heard the sound of her phone being laid on the kitchen table. I swiftly sneaked back to the living room, heart beating. Something was afoot, and I hardly dared imagine what it might be. To tell you the truth, I wasn't entirely displeased that some kind of punishment seemed to be imminent. My ambivalence was still great, and part of me still felt that my wife deserved whatever it was Mr Black had in mind for her.

“ Who was that?” I asked lightly when my wife returned, curious as to whether or not my wife would tell openly.

“ It was Mr Black,” she said, unable to look me in the eye. “He knew without me having to tell him that you made me cum.”

“ Told you so,” I said.

My wife's eyes narrowed. “How did he know?” she said. “You haven't told him, have you?”

I laughed out loud. The idea that my wife could imagine that I was in cahoots with this pervert was just too much. But then, since she hadn't seen the strange witchlike woman who had spied on her, on us, I suppose it was a reasonable enough assumption to make.

“ Not a chance,” I said, refraining from mentioning the strange woman, especially not eager to tell how I had been sucked off by her. My wife looked at me, clearly not sure if she believed me. “So, did you make a date?” I asked, trying to sound conversational, but not managing very well.

“ No,” my wife said. “He said he'd be in touch.”

Something in her voice suggested this was not the case, and I began to wonder why. We spoke no more of the matter, but all day Friday I wondered what my wife had been instructed not to tell me. The answer came soon enough.

Most men, I suspect, would be worried if their wife did not return home from work when expected, and they only got voicemail when trying to reach her. I was not. It was obvious enough that this was Mr Black's doing, and while I resented his determination to humiliate me as well as my wife, a part of me was almost sanguine. Something, I decided, had snapped. I was determined not to make this man get to me and poured myself a drink, and then another, knowing that sooner or later events would unfold.

At approximately quarter to eight my mobile beeped. A picture had been sent to me. It depicted my wife, in her office clothes on a wooden chair, ankles taped to the legs, duct tape covering her mouth. She was staring straight into the camera, but was impossible to read. The photo had been sent from my wife's phone. Again, this was an event that would no doubt strike terror into the heart of most men; I felt a slight twinge, but pushed it away. My wife had let herself in for this; let her follow it through to the bitter end.

Half an hour later, a new picture arrived. My wife was still seated on the chair, but now she was gagged with a scarf that had been pulled tightly between her lips and tied round the back of her head. She was no longer looking into the camera, since a blindfold now obscured her eyes. Her blouse was undone and pulled back, her bra pulled down, exposing her fully rounded tits. Her skirt had been pulled up, and her pussy was easily visible through ripped tights and panties.

I hardened my heart. My wife had brought this on herself. I was in no mood to care.

The next picture, half an hour later, came with a message, “Save me!” In the photo my wife was attired as before, but now lying on a concrete floor, her arms and legs tightly bound. The view was from behind, and the tights and panties had been ripped through to allow for the insertion of a butt plug. That was a new one, I thought grimly, pouring myself another drink, determined not to respond to the text. It was obviously a ruse. My wife was no doubt enjoying every minute of it, whatever it was.

Half an hour later the phone gave off a different sound. It was ringing. For a moment I toyed with the idea of refusing to pick up, put in the end I relented. I didn't need to say anything; my wife's voice came through loud and clear, crying out at the top of her lungs, “I'm begging you, Mr Black! Please let me cum!”

The phone was clearly on speaker, for Mr Black's voice came through, equally loud and clear, “Do you really think you deserve to cum?”

A quick buzz could be heard before my wife gave a shriek. Then her desperate tones rang out again, “I know I've disobeyed you, Mr Black! I've been a disobedient slut, and I don't deserve to cum. But please forgive me! Have pity on me! I am weak! Please make me cum!”

The humming resumed, longer this time, as my wife groaned and moaned and cried out. “Please!” she squealed in desperation when the buzzing ceased. “Please, Mr Black, do whatever you like to me, just let me cum!”

Mr Back laughed. “I'll do whatever I like to you in any case; no I require something more if I'm to let you cum.”

There was a short silence, then he resumed, “But I'm a fair man, Christine. I realise that your husband more or less forced himself on you. I think you could have done more to fend him off, but still... Since he's implicated in this...”

Suddenly I was on tenterhooks, not having the faintest idea where this was going, but having a bad feeling all the same.

There was silence, save for my wife's heavy breathing, then Mr Black resumed, “I will agree to let you cum, Christine, if your husband agrees to come here tomorrow and suck my cock.”

“ What?” I exclaimed furiously. This was just too much.

Mr Black chuckled, but the greatest shock was yet to come, for my wife burst out, “Please darling! Please say you'll come here and suck Mr Black's cock!”

I realised in an instant that I'd reached the end of my tether. Something snapped. “No fucking way,” I snarled.

“ Please, darling!” my wife whined. “Say you'll suck Mr Black's cock. I need to cum desperately. Say you'll do it.”

Mr Black was chuckling evilly in the background. I was unable to believe any of this, and being a little bit the worse for drink, I laughed back. “No fucking way,” I repeated.

“ Very well,” Mr Black said. The buzzing resumed. My wife cried out loudly. She sounded halfway between delirium and torture.

“ Please let me cum!” she screamed. “Please, Mr Black! Please!”

The buzzing ceased. “You know what I want,” Mr Black said.

“ Please, darling,” my wife panted. “Say you'll do it! Say you'll suck Mr Black's cock.”

“ No!” I said.

“ Please,” my wife whined.

There was a brief silence. Then Mr Black broke in. “Well,” he said. “I suppose there is another way we could arrange things.”

“ Mr Black?” my wife said.

“ I will allow you to cum, Christine, if you consent to being my slave for the foreseeable future.”

It took a few seconds for Mr Black's words to sink in. “What?” I blurted out. “What fucking century are you living in?”

But by now my wife was screaming again as the buzzing sounded louder than ever. Then she cried out, “Yes, Mr Black! I consent to being your slave if you will only make me, let me cum! Please, Mr Black! I am your slave! Please let me cum!”

The buzzing ceased. My wife breathed loudly. “Very good,” Mr Black said. “You will be made to cum! But not yet!”

“ Please, Mr Black, I beg of you!” my wife cried.

Mr Black just chuckled. “It sounds like my little slave has changed her tune,” he said. “Normally she begs for me to fuck her, but now she's only concerned with her own pleasure.”

“ No!” my wife burst out quickly. “Mr Black, your pleasure is my pleasure, Mr Black. It's an honour to feel your big, hard cock inside me, a privilege to be fucked by you. I would consider it an honour to be fucked by you, and for you to cum all over me, Mr Black!”

Once again Mr Black gave his evil little chuckle. Then the phone went dead.

With the alcohol sloshing through my veins, my mood persisted. My wife had got herself into this idiotic game, and I was damned if I was going to play along any longer. The next morning, however, after very little sleep and a befuddled soberness coming on, I wasn't so sure. My uncertainty was heightened by a picture that had arrived late last night, that I hadn't noticed. It depicted my wife naked and curled up on some blankets in a cage.

I was beginning to think that this Mr Black may be more unstable and more dangerous than I had hitherto imagined, which was saying something. Was he really serious about the slave thing? If so, what exactly did he mean by it? I dialled my wife's mobile number but was sent straight to voicemail. I declined to leave a message.

I was toying with the idea of driving out to Mr Black's when the message came, deciding the issue: “Come to house.”

As I drove I considered my options, though they didn't take too much considering. I now felt that my confrontational stance from the previous evening was not in my best interests, nor those of my wife. No, the best thing for it seemed to be to play the game and wait; wait until I had my wife back home and could convince her to stop this foolishness. My stomach churned at the thought that I might still be ordered to suck Mr Black's cock, but if so I felt I would just have to swallow my pride.

The strange dark-haired woman was waiting for me as I pulled up outside the house. She was as silent as ever, leading me into the house and showing me into the room I'd sat in on my previous visit.

Last time, I'd been left to undress myself, but this time the seemingly ageless creature immediately set about removing my clothes for me. In other circumstances, I might have found this agreeable, but my attention was otherwise diverted.

Again I had a good view of the next room through the one-way glass. The steel cabinets were there, the few other bits of furniture, the examination table, and in front of the examination table my naked wife. She was perched on what I could easily determine to be a sybian, straps round her thighs fixed securely to securely to hooks in the sides. She was handcuffed, a chain fixed to the handcuffs and running up to a hook in the ceiling, ensuring that her arms were stretched out above her. She had a black collar round her neck, and a ball gag occupied her mouth.

I wondered what she was thinking, feeling, but it was impossible to read her eyes on account of a dark strip of material wound round her head and covering them. It did not, however, escape my attention that her nipples were standing to attention.

By the time I had taken all this in, I was completely naked. The strange woman pointed to the wooden chair that was the sole piece of furniture in the room, before exiting. Then came the wait.

As I gazed on my wife, I felt a twitch down below. My cock slowly grew, in spite of everything. I didn't know how we'd got involved in any of this, why my wife had done this. I just knew that she was my wife, that I loved her, desired her. Seeing her body stretched out like this before me, I wanted her desperately, and felt the full agony of all that had been and all that might yet be.

I watched as my wife shifted slightly. No doubt half sitting, half hanging like that was uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine what she got out of it. Then her body tensed. The door to her room was opening, and in stepped Mr Black, as always dressed entirely in black, with a mask concealing his face.

“ Afta,” my wife uttered from behind the ball gag. Clearly the days when Mr Black didn't care about titles were long gone now.

“ Slave,” Mr Black smirked. He stopped, folding his arms across his chest, as if my wife was in any position to see. “I want us to be absolutely clear on things. I will not accept anything less than total obedience from my Slave, are we clear on that?”

“ Ef, Afta,” my wife managed to force past the gag.

“ Is Slave prepared to submit to each and every one of Master's whims whenever he so requires?”

“ Ef, Afta.”

Mr Black took a few steps forward, stopping diagonally in front of my wife. “Slave will do nothing of a sexual nature unless she is expressly ordered to by Master, or unless he was given his approval. Are we clear?”

“ Ef, Afta.”

There was obvious tension as Mr Black bent down. When he rose he was holding the controls to the sybian. A quick twist of a knob and my wife's body gave an enormous jerk. A tremendous buzzing sounded, my wife moaning loudly behind the gag as her body twisted as best it could.

Mr Black turned the sybian off. “Slave must never cum unless Master has given his express permission. Is that clear?”

“ Ef, Afta,” my wife gasped, saliva trickling over her chin.

Mr Black turned another knob. The sound was different, not so ferocious. Nevertheless, my wife twisted her head, groaning again behind the gag. From what I knew of these toys, I imagined there was a rotating device on the thing, that was moving inside my wife. The sight of her body moving, her breasts shape-shifting with small hard nipples protruding caused me to throb, in spite of everything.

The machine was switched off again. Mr Black began pacing, back and forth in front of my wife. “You like that, don't you, Slave?”

“ Ef, Afta.”

Mr Black paced a little in silence.

“ Do you want to cum?”

“ Ef, Afta.”

“ Of course you do,” Mr Black said, continuing to move back and forth. “Since you're little more than a sex-crazed slut, obsessed with cocks and cumming. Well, you'll have plenty of cock, Slave. I firmly believe that slaves should have their holes occupied as much as possible. As for cumming... Well that depends on how pleased I am with you.”

I could sense that my wife was on the verge of saying something, but she held back, presumably because Mr Black hadn't given her permission to speak and hadn't spoken directly to her.

Nor did he now. Instead he went down on his haunches. My wife's body tensed as she sensed him before her, then it seized as a gloved finger went to her sex. “Look at you,” Mr Black said. “You're so wet it's indecent. Like a little slut you've leaked all over the contraption too. Slave can busy herself later cleaning it off. With her tongue.”

Again I sensed that my wife was about to say something, but that she thought better of it.

Mr Black rose, and this time he suddenly activated both controls. The machine surged into action. My wife gave what could only be described as a shriek behind the gag. Between the shackles that held her fixed to the body of the sybian and the handcuffs that held her arms stretched vertically, her body swayed violently. Pre-orgasmic sounds were emerging from the back of her throat, her breathing becoming strained.

Then the machine stopped.

“ Do you want to cum, Slave?” Mr Black asked.

“ Ef, Afta,” my wife replied, her voice weak, her breathing heavy.

Mr Black put the controls down and moved round behind my wife. “Let's remove this so we can have a proper conversation,” he said.

The ball gag came off easily enough, but my wife waited to speak until Mr Black had said, “So you want to cum, do you, Slave?”

“ Yes, Master.”

“ Do you think you deserve to cum?”

There was a short pause. “That's for Master to decide.”

Again Mr Black gave a laugh. “Indeed it is. And I'm sure Slave understands that she has to earn it.”

“ Yes, Master.”

There was silence. “Well...” Mr Black said at last.

“ Please, Master,” my wife breathed. “You must know I am your devoted Slave. Your obedient Slave. You know how I long so for your cock, always. Just the thought of your big, hard cock fucking me makes me almost explode. Slave will do whatever it takes for Master to make her cum. Anything! Please, Master. I need to cum!”

Mr Black chuckled. He was moving across the room to the steel cabinets that lined one side of it. “Very well,” he said. “Since you put it like that.”

I could see that my wife remained on tenterhooks, though her eyes were still hidden. Mr Black retrieved a role of black tape from the cabinet, the same stuff I'd used last time I was here to tie my wife down. This time, though, he had other designs. Moving back to my wife he lifted one of her breasts and began to wind the tape round the base.

“ Master!” my wife gasped. “What are you doing?”

“ Did I give you permission to speak, Slave?” Mr Black barked.

“ No, Master. Please forgive me, Master,” my wife panted, the words coming out in a rush.

“ Silence!” Mr Black ordered, slapping my wife's other breast and making her gasp. “You will speak when you're spoken to!” Then he resumed attending to my wife's breast.

He was moving on to the second one, as I watched, not quite believing what I was seeing, when the door to my own room opened. It was the woman I thought of as Mrs Black, now carrying a role of tape herself, but this was duct tape.

“ What the...” I began, but when Mrs Black put her finger up to her lips, I broke off, stupidly.

I'd been prepared to go along with things, but being placed in bondage was a step too far. It came as something of a relief to realise that this was not the plan, though three strips of tape were fixed firmly over my mouth. Then, Mrs Black, grabbed my still erect cock and lead me out of the room to the one next door.

Mr Black had, by now, finished winding the tape round my wife's breasts, which bulged outward from their tightly held base, engorged nipples protruding like ripe berries waiting to be devoured. I could tell that she was bemused by the activity she could hear, but supposed that after her previous rebuke, she was loath to ask. Mrs Black again looked at me, putting a finger up to her lips. I understood. She knew as well as I did that the tape did not necessarily stop me from making a sound by which my wife might identify me. Then she turned, her long skirt swishing, and went to sit on one of the chairs.

Mr Black's features were hidden behind his mask, but the lewd grin on his face was easy to imagine. His gloved fingers flicked at my wife's nipples and she exhaled tensely. “Your breasts look quite exceptional, Slave,” he said. “And judging by my friend's erection, I'd say he thinks so too.”

There was movement in my wife's trussed body at the mention of a friend. There was no sound, though. Did she realise that this “friend” was her husband, or was she determined to be obedient and not kick up a fuss. Did the thought of a stranger being here excite her?

Mr Black gestured to me, and I understood. My antipathy towards him, towards this whole situation had receded somewhat at this new prospect. My fingers closed round my wife's engorged nipples, and she gasped out loud as I tugged on them.

“ Do you want cock, Slave?” Mr Black asked sharply.

This was something my wife knew how to answer. “Yes, Master.”

I let my fingers continue to tug and squeeze one of my wife's trussed breasts while gripping my cock and sliding it over the ripe areola on the other. I sensed Mr Black was pleased with this, and smeared pre-cum over the swollen nipple.

“ Good,” Mr Black said, “because my friend surely wouldn't say no to acquainting you with his.”

“ Master?” my wife breathed.

“ My friend almost certainly requires some encouragement, though,” Mr Black said. “You will address him as Sir. Is that clear?”

“ Yes, Master.” There was a short pause, then my wife said, “Master, what is your... your friend's pleasure?”

Mr Black gave an unpleasant laugh. “Well now,” he said. “I'm sure Slave can work out which of her holes is the most easily accessible.” My wife's body suddenly jerked as the sybian jolted into action for a brief moment. Mr Black had clearly rescued the controls from the floor. “If you perform to my satisfaction I will allow you to cum,” he said.

My cock had come away from my wife's breast when the sybian lurched into action. Now I stepped forward again and drew the head of my cock underneath my wife's chin, giving her some encouragement of her own. There was another short blast from the sybian, causing my wife to shriek out loud.

“ Anyone would think Slave didn't want to cum,” Mr Black said. “Slave is not usually so reticent.”

I sensed more than knew that my wife was reticent because she really didn't understand that it was me, but thought it was a complete stranger. She may have become accustomed to saying the most disgusting things to Mr Black, but confronted with a stranger, her old hesitancy reasserted itself. This thought gave me some small measure of sadistic pleasure.

“ My friend won't wait all day,” Mr Black barked. “Either Slave wants to cum or she doesn't.”

As I drew the tip of my cock up over my wife's chin, she moved her head as if to catch it in her mouth. Something in me had responded to the game, and I pulled my cock away, leaving Mr Black to say, “If Slave is serious about wanting cock, she must be prepared to beg for it.”

I rubbed my cock head under my wife's chin again, and this time she spoke, albeit a little hesitantly, “Thank you, kind Sir. Slave likes the feel of your cock, Sir. Slave would be happy to pleasure you with her mouth, Sir.”

I don't know where the idea came from, but I took my cock and struck my wife on the lips with it. She gasped out loud, continuing in a slightly more desperate voice, “Please, Sir. Slave would love to suck your cock Sir. Please insert your cock into Slave's mouth. Please make Slave suck your cock, Sir.”

“ Anyone would think Slave didn't want to cum,” Mr Black broke in. “Slave is being very coy for such a cocksucking slut.”

“ Yes, yes!” my wife gasped. “Yes, Master. I am a cocksucking slut. Please, Sir, please feed this cocksucking slut with your cock.”

My resentment at all that had happened, at this ignominious state of affairs, was feeding my arousal, and vice versa. Once again I slapped my hard cock against my wife's lips. I could get a taste for this.

Mr Black gave a quick blast of the sybian, causing my wife's whole body to strain against the restraints, her arms to swing, her chest to heave. She breathed heavily as I looked down, beholding the engorged nipples on the ends of the ballooning breasts. Suddenly she was hardly my wife any more, just some nubile, tethered plaything, there for my gratification.

As if galvanised by the blast on the sybian my wife panted, “Sir, Slave... this cocksucking slut badly wants your cock. Please feed me your cock. Please feed me deep.”

“ I think we're finally getting somewhere,” Mr Black announced. “I'm just not sure it's because Slave really wants my friend's cock. Perhaps she's just a selfish Slave who's desperate to cum.”

“ No, Master!” my wife cried out. “I mean, Slave wants to cum! Of course she does. But Slave also loves to suck cock. You know she does, Master! Has Slave not always gladly been Master's cocksucking slut whenever he has demanded it?”

I was on the verge of saying something myself, or at least trying to behind the duct tape. Not because I wanted my wife to know who I was, but because something inside me was responding to the game. I wanted to tell her to be my cocksucking slut, to shove her lips far, far down my rigid pole. In the meantime, Mr Black had set the sybian to a slow, murmuring pace. I could see my wife's body tense and strain, hear her squeak slightly as the device provided stimulation.

“ It's true that Slave has always been the perfect little cocksucking slut whenever I have demanded it,” Mr Black mused. He toyed with the controls and the machine revved. I could only guess at what it might be doing to my wife, who panted and tugged at the chain holding her arms in place.

I could have watched my wife squirming on the machine all day. Her breasts were swelling, her nipples hard and erect as I drew my slimy cock head over them. “Please, Sir,” my wife gasped. “Slave wants to be your cocksucking slut. Please Sir.”

Slowly I moved my cock upwards, drawing things out as much as I could. The machine was still rumbling slowly as I drew my cock head under my wife's chin, then over it.

“ Please, Sir,” my wife breathed. “Please feed Slave! Please feed this cocksucking slut.”

As my cock head inched itself towards them, my wife's lips parted. This time I wasn't going to mess about, and I let my stiff rod glide a little way into her mouth. Her lips closed and she began to slide them down my cock. Part of me wanted to believe my wife knew it was me, but part of me knew perfectly well that she would have done this to anyone had Mr Black ordered it.

Slowly but surely, my wife's lips slid right the way down to the root of my cock. Mr Black rewarded this with a quick blast of sybian energy which caused my wife to cry out, and her head to almost fly off my cock. I grabbed hold of her, forcing her back down, forcing her to hold my entire length in her salivating mouth as the machine went back to its low frequency rumble.

I relinquished my hold a little, giving my wife the opportunity to slide her lips a little more freely. Her head bobbed, her mouth servicing my cock. She was rewarded with a slight increase in the speed of the sybian, causing her to gasp. I had of course had the pleasure of my wife's mouth many times, but never like this. The whole situation was utterly bizarre, and I could hardly hope to understand my own role in it.

Placing my hand on the back of my wife's head, I pushed my cock all the way in again. This time I waited for the drool to dribble out of her and run from the corners of her mouth. Then I released my hold, pulling my cock all the way out.

Immediately my wife gasped, “Please, Sir, Slave finds your cock delicious. Please fuck this cocksucking slut's mouth.”

She held her mouth open, and became a little less of my wife, a little more of a depraved, drooling fuck toy. I could feel every sense of decency and propriety evaporate as I inserted my cock again. With my hand on the back of my wife's head, holding her in place, I did as she had asked, moving my stiff organ back and forth. She began whining deep down at the back of her throat, though whether from my treatment or that of the sybian, I couldn't tell.

Mr Black was clearly enjoying it, for he said now, with some relish, “Now Slave is beginning to get the picture. But then a cocksucking slut like her could hardly resist, could she?” The question was hardly aimed to be answered. “Make sure you keep that cock in your mouth, Slave!”

My wife could hardly do otherwise, since I was holding her in place, forcing her to accommodate my constantly driving organ. The noise from the sybian increased, and so did the noise from my wife, who was moaning on my cock now. Her body began to shift, to writhe, her hands making the chain clank as she tugged at it. Her bound breasts bobbed awkwardly, her nipples pointing straight out, obscenely. She was grinding down on the sybian, obviously in a frenzy to reach the point she so longed for.

I waited a little, continuing to push my cock back and forth, listening to my wife's moans, gauging the moment. When I withdrew my cock she immediately gasped, “Oh yes! Oh fuck! Oh yes!” Then, "Master! Please, Master! Am I allowed to cum, Master?”

“ Slave may cum once she's got my friend's cock back in her mouth,” Mr Black said. I rubbed my cock head up against my wife's lips, and she immediately made sure it entered her mouth.

“ Such eagerness is to be rewarded in a cocksucking slut,” Mr Black said. “Slave may cum!”

Suddenly the machine went into overdrive. My wife gave a shriek, and I grabbed her head, forcing my cock deeper into her mouth to stop it from slipping out. She was moaning deep down at the back of her throat. I didn't move now, my wife's body was shifting like mad, fighting the restraints but to no avail. Her lips clamped down hard on my cock, and she was cumming.

I'd never witnessed such an intense climax. It was as if my wife was being torn apart internally. I pulled out, thinking to spray my wife's face with my seed. However, the strange woman I thought of as Mrs Black, who I hadn't even noticed for the past ten minutes, suddenly appeared. Kneeling before me, she began to suck me deep and hard.

“ Master!” my wife was crying. “Master! Thank you, Master! Thank you for allowing Slave to cum!” There was no let up in the humming, the machine continued relentlessly. “Master!” my wife cried. “Slave doesn't know if she can take any more, Master! Please, Master!”

“ Slave's been begging to cum for ages,” Mr Black said censoriously. “Of course she can take it.”

“ Master!” my wife screamed. Then her face contorted. Even though I couldn't see her eyes, the mixture of ecstasy and agony was evident. “Oooooowwwwaaaaarrrggghhhh!” she cried. Her body swayed violently, fighting the bonds that held her in place.

The sight of her violently climaxing body was too much for me. As my wife screamed out her second orgasm, my semen jetted out into the mystery woman's mouth.

Everything was happening so fast. The sound of the sybian slowly subsided. My wife hung there, her body limp. If her hands hadn't been fastened to the chain and the hook in the ceiling she would almost certainly have collapsed.

“ What do you say, Slave?” Mr Black commanded.

“ Thank you, Master,” my wife panted, hardly able to utter the words. “Thank you for allowing Slave to cum.”

Mr Black chuckled. In front of me the mystery woman had produced a small plastic cup which she was busy drooling my semen into. “My friend is about to go home,” Mr Black said. “But before he does, Slave will show him what a cum-drinking slut she is.”

“ Yes, Master,” my wife said, though I got the feeling she was utterly exhausted.

Mr Black took the cup from the woman, grabbing my wife by the hair and pushing the rim of the cup up to her lips. My wife parted her lips mutely, allowing the sticky white liquid to be poured into her mouth. I saw her swallow. Then Mr Black said, “Thank the nice man, Slave!”

“ Thank you, kind Sir,” my wife breathed. “Your cock and your cum were both delicious.”

“ What are you, Slave?”

“ Thank you, Sir, for letting me demonstrate what a cocksucking, cum-drinking slut I am.”

Mr Black gave his evil laugh, letting me understand with a wave of a hand that my part in this was done. I turned to leave, hearing, to my astonishment, my wife's voice say, “Please, Master, may I have some more?”

“ More what?” Mr Black asked sharply.

“ More cum, Master,” my wife said. “May I have your cum, Master?”

Mr Black laughed evilly. “Oh, Slave will get plenty of cum later,” he said. “But first she needs to rest a few hours in her cage, before the evening's entertainment.”

Then the door closed behind me.

The mystery woman oversaw me pulling my clothes on, even as I saw through the one-way glass how Mr Black released my wife from her bonds. Sheepishly and stupidly I allowed myself to be escorted from the house to drive home, wondering how my wife had become this new person, and how I had become this new person.

But above all wondering, with a sense of dread, what Mr Black had meant by “the evening's entertainment.”