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On the Hour

I’m bound face down on the bed, waiting to be fucked. Again. The only illumination is the digital blue of the clock, the numbers crawling slowly towards the next hour. Every hour, on the hour, he returns. It’s almost 6 am so this will make the seventh time. I tingle with anticipation, wondering what the coming hour will bring. Each time he surprises me. Each time I cum louder and harder than the time before. I’m sore, my arms and legs stretched out across the mattress, my ass and pussy still recovering from the last time, my drool cool against my cheek as I stare at the clock, set where I would be forced to watch it count down the minutes.

I can’t help but wonder what he does between the times that he fucks me. Sleep? Watch TV? Go for a walk? I replay the last time in my head, feeling my face heat up as the tell-tale dampness between my legs betrays my arousal. Each time, it’s more depraved then the last, leaving me trembling in anticipation for the next half hour. I’ve got it down now. He torments me for 30 minutes, than leaves me to stew in my own juices for the same. It’s exquisite torture.

If my husband only knew. I smile cruelly at the thought of seeing the look on his face when I tell him.  If I tell him, savoring the thought of sleeping next to him, the memory of this night fresh in my mind, replaying it as I tease myself to a quiet orgasm while his back is turned to me, his loud snoring masking my soft moans.

I dig claw like fingers into the blanket beneath me, my hips grinding in a circle, just enough to keep myself aroused, rolling my shoulders, stretching my limbs as much as I can. He tied me loosely, making sure that I was comfortable, and yet, unable to escape. I feel so dirty. A bound slut, a pleasure slave. I don’t even know his name. He doesn’t know mine, either. He calls me his whore. After all, that’s what I am.

The first time, there were no words, no gentleness. He simply grabbed my hips while I lifted my ass, my tits pressed against the bed, and fucked me with the thickest cock I have ever felt. He used my cunt, not caring about how it felt for me. It was all about him. That first time, I almost wavered, wondering if I’d made a mistake. I kept my mouth shut, though, letting myself go. I might have been unsure, but my pussy knew what it wanted, clenching at his cock as he drove it into my dripping wet hole, the only sounds his muted grunts, my soft gasps, and the slurp of my cunt.

I don’t know how long he fucked me before he came, pumping me full of cum, shuddering as he put all his weight into it, forcing me into the mattress, leaving me unsatisfied. He laughed when I begged him to make me climax, to let me, moving slowly in and out of my cum filled hole, leaving me on the edge until I wanted to scream in frustration. He gagged me shortly after, telling me that what I wanted wasn’t important. I was just his whore. Just hearing him say that almost did it for me. Almost, but not quite.

I stare at the clock, dread and lust coursing through me as the numbers advance. My gag is soaking wet with saliva. I am his mute little whore. His fuck toy. The only time it’s been out are the two times he made me suck his cock. I can still taste his cum in my mouth and feel it on my face where it’s dried. I let myself smile, glad that there’s no one here to see it. Only 5 more minutes. More like a lifetime. I have never wanted anything more. I really am a whore. His whore.

The second time, he fucked me up the ass. I suppose I should be thankful he used lube. While I used to let Jake do that, this guy’s cock is much thicker than my husbands. If I could have screamed, I would have. Before he was done, the blanket under my face was soaked with tears as well as drool. Afterwards, he spanked me, turning my cheeks bright red, fire erupting with every strike, ordering me to lift my ass so he could treat my hot little pussy to the same. I bet your husband doesn’t treat you like this, he teased. He was right. If he had, I wouldn’t be here, tied to the bed of some guy that I’d just met hours before in a club, getting used like a slut. That’s when he’d set the clock out, telling me that he would return every hour on the hour to use me. So far, he’d been true to his word.

I shiver in the dark, the cool of the room settling into my exposed flesh, the numbers on the clock going out of focus as I drift in and out of sleep. I am tired, mentally and physically, and yet, I am so keyed up. I need to cum. I wonder if this is how a heroin addict feels, suddenly empathizing. It’s all I can think about. I wonder if, this time, he will let me.

So far, I’ve had his cock in my ass, my pussy, and my mouth. Twice, he’s cum in each of my fuck holes, as he calls them. His stamina is amazing, but that’s what drew me too him. Twenty two years old, an athlete’s build. The only thing I know about him that he’s an amateur fighter. All that testosterone needs an outlet. Tonight, I am his outlet.

I startle awake, the sound of the door pulling me back to the present, the clock reading 6:00 in digital blue numbers. It’s time. My body knows it before my brain does, my heart beating hard, my breath quickening, my cunt leaking all over the bed as I rub it against the sticky mixture of his cum and my juices, passion igniting in me as I babble into my gag, begging him to let me cum this time as I sense the ambient light of the hallway softening the darkness of the room. I am about to get fucked. Again. I arch my back, eager for it, lifting my hips, presenting my ass as best I can, clenching the blanket with my fists.

“What a pretty little whore.”

I freeze. It’s not his voice. It’s feminine. There’s a hard edge to it, just like there is to his. I whimper, suddenly frightened and unsure.

Her touch is gentler then his, her hands gliding over my back, my shoulders, my ass, down my thighs, everywhere but between my legs.

“My husband likes to share. It’s my turn. Have you even been with another woman, whore?”

I shake my head frantically, squealing into my gag as she rakes her nails over my already abused ass and the tender flesh of my inner thighs, her laugher soft, almost kind.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

That stills me, filling me with hope, and something else. Need. I feel suddenly feverish, my heart beating so hard I think it might burst. Unable to stop myself, I whimper into the gag as I feel her fingers tease my outer lips apart, tracing them, trailing up and down between them. I begin to shiver, my lids pressing down to block out the numbers on the clock, losing myself to her touch as she teases my swollen clit free of my hood, caressing and stroking, stoking the flames of my unquenchable and unfulfilled lust.

“I like playing games.”

I begin to thrash as she abandons me, my ankles and wrists already raw from the other times I’d fought my bonds. This was just too cruel! She’d promised to make me cum! She laughs as I slump, feeling defeated, against the bed, trapped by four lengths of rope attached to the bed posts.

I try to make sense of the sounds I am hearing. It is only when I feel something hard pushing between the parted lips of my cut, that it strikes me. She is wearing a harness and sporting a rubber cock. From the feel of it, it is at least as big as her husbands.

“Here’s the rules, whore. I am going to fuck you. If you cum, I am going to take my turn with you again in another hour. If you don’t, you go back to being my husband’s whore. That’s the deal. Every time you cum, you belong to me, when you don’t, you’re his.”

She punctuates her words by coaxing my hips up and pushing her unyielding cock into me. I gasp at the heat of it, much to her delight.

“Nothing worse than a cold cock. I warmed it up for you in a bowl of hot water first.”

Those are her last words as she begins to slowly fuck me from behind, playing me by reaching around and teasing my clit with practiced fingers, ecstasy building up inside of me until I think I might burst, my nipples aching, my back arching painfully, my legs spreading wider and wider, welcoming her inside of me, only half aware of her voice as she calls me every nasty name in the book, agreeing with her. I am a whore, a slut, a nasty little bitch, a fuck toy. I am her dirty little cum beast, her filthy little girl.

“Cum. For. Me. Whore.”

Her sharp words are timed perfectly with four final thrusts that push me over the edge. I explode with pleasure so deep that it almost rips me apart, not sure if I climax once, or twice, or several times, wave upon wave cresting through me, twisting me inside out, leaving me gasping as the next one hits, trying to breath before I pass out in endless ecstasy…

I come to, staring at the clock once more, slowly focusing on the digital blue numbers, nervously remembering her words and the price of my orgasm. Ten minutes to 7:00. Would I cum again? Or could I hold out so that her husband would take me once more? I guess I would find out soon. For now, I was content to lie here, tied face down on their bed while waiting to be fucked. Again.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


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