The doe-eyed gaze she managed despite the oral abuse he was subjecting her to drove him crazy with self-gratification. The neediness she looked at him with contrasted with the vulgar schlucking that came from her violated throat. Only when he emphasized their power play by pulling her hair with a firm grip, her eyes began to water and lewd whimpers accompanied the splattering of the copious throat slime.
He reveled in the power he had over her, believed he found a satisfactory share of ego-brushing in exerting authority over a paramour younger than his own daughter. He basked in the unresolved emotional damage of the twenty-two-year-old girl who found her perverse need for a substitute Daddy figure met with him in the most depraved way her young, inexperienced mind could imagine.
With his self-esteem getting polished and lathered in thick streaks of phlegm, Gabriel threw his head back as the culmination of her expert cock-worshipping announced itself through a tingling in his balls.
“Suck that lollipop clean, babygirl,” he boasted in well-rehearsed feigned confidence, caring jolly little about how their age difference gave the pet name a fetid aftertaste. Or yet how the euphemistic paraphrase for his rather modest appendage underscored the notion of exaggerated embellishment.
Like the good little whore she was, she stuck out her tongue, presenting her face as a receptacle to his seed. No later than she offered her readiness to be cum-baptized by her surrogate father, streaks of white shot out of his engorged cockhead, painting her cheeks with his glutinous sperm...
...just the moment the bedroom door flung open and a wife fuming with more than just subtle splashes of classy perfume stormed in. Straight to her culprit of a husband, who was yet too inebriated by his post-orgasmic dopamine overdose to realize what was about to descend upon him.
Being in a more alert state, Germaine had the mental presence to dodge the hand that was reaching to pinch her ear, while Gabriel, being less lucky courtesy of his current mental state, was violently yanked from his contented doze by his wife’s hand pulling him up like a boy caught stealing from the cookie jar.
In the face of Giselle’s wrath, Germaine attempted to get up and scram, confident in the physical superiority of her youth but little had she considered that her long, silky hair offered an ideal grip for a single, powerful yank in the direction opposite to her attempted escape. She fell backward, hard on the floor, robbing her of her breath for a few seconds.
“Where do you think you’re going, floozy?” snarled Giselle’s voice cold enough to freeze the moisture in her breath. She then turned to her husband, who she kept on his tiptoes, ear twisted lest he tried to free himself from his predicament. “As for you, you lying sack of shit...” The deep growl reminded him of a rabid dog about to spread its infection. “In our bedroom, of all places?”
She paused to let her rage sink in, the room silent except for Germaine heaving for breath and Gabriel trying his best to keep his whining at a minimum.
“On the one day of the week I come home from work early.”
Another pause for emphasis.
“So I can cook Mister Attentive’s dinner like a good little housewife while he is feeding his pacifier to a girl who still lives on Daddy’s expenses.”
She let go of his ear. In relief, he sought a more stable stance but didn’t count on the kneecap that met his scrotum just a split-second after. Like a bag of potatoes, he collapsed into a whimpering pile of flesh, holding his precious jewels like a fragile, prized possession.
“Seriously, are you dumb?” Giselle spat at him while he was wallowing in self-pity.
She stepped to the cum-lathered girl who was just regaining her breath. Giselle grabbed Germaine’s hair again, softer this time, and helped her get up. She traced her finger over the younger competitor’s face, collecting her husband's gunk and shoved it into the girl’s mouth gaping from the pain in the roots of her hair.
While she was seemingly calmy doing this, she said in a much softer voice. “Defiling your little bimbo courtesan in our marital bedroom... You could have had the decency to screw her in a hotel room, but you’ve always been cheap and stingy.” The next line was delivered like a deadly scythe splitting the room in two. “But this is just embarrassing. Even for you, you useless deadbeat shit!”
“Don’t talk to him like that!” Germaine defended her lover before a slap across her face made the shock rise into her reddened eyes. Heart pounding with adrenaline, she looked at the finger pointing right at her face.
“No talking with a full mouth! Your grandmother would be ashamed!” scolded Giselle.
“But...”
Another slap on the other cheek, followed by a sniffing from the receiver.
“Table manners, young lady!” came the sharp reply. “Don’t you sniff on me like that. You brought this upon yourself. And don’t you dare swallow this shit for brain’s cum until I’m done with him.”
Giselle’s index finger pointed at Germaine’s face like an effective threat.
“Do you hear me, young lady?”
Germaine’s lips parted slightly in hesitation but she backpedaled and closed them immediately again out of fear that the scorned spouse’s whip-like palm would connect with her cheek anew. When she remembered Giselle’s impatience, she nodded enthusiastically instead.
“Good girl,” the older woman said through pursed lips with an undertone that dripped with condescending venom. “I can see the appeal you have on this little worm. He likes them young and easy. Makes him feel superior, and like a real man—whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Cue eyeroll on the ‘that’.
She nodded in the direction of the lump of flesh that lay there curled up, still sobbing.
“Pathetic, is he not?” she re-iterated sassily.
She stepped to her husband, knelt down and pinched the hair on his right temple. “Now stop that incessant whining. Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself.” A frustrated sigh blew through her nostrils. “And me too. If I had known the man I married would turn out such a wimp...”
Pulling Gabriel by his temple hair, she guided him to the bed, where she sat on the edge and motioned him to bend over her pencil skirt.
“And now, my little hubbub,” Giselle began with a calm voice, yet each word a razor blade tolerating no objection, “Mommy will have to teach you a lesson.”
With the penultimate syllable of her ominous threat came the first slap on his naked bum and with it, a shriek that did not exactly flatter his cis-stereotypical virility he'd been so proud of just minutes earlier.
Three more spanks followed that reverberated in the room as if even the bedsheets refused to swallow their excruciating echo. Each was accompanied by an equally agonizing scream testifying to Giselle’s lack of mercy—and regular exercise routine... or practice?
The look Giselle threw Germaine was enough to make her freeze dead in her step, no matter how determined she had been to make the cruel witch stop just seconds ago. She began to understand, she thought, what drove this man—so perfect in her eyes—to escape from his marital vows into the arms of a tenderer lover.
“I dare you to come any closer,” Giselle growled, her hand hovering over Gabriel’s butt like the Sword of Damocles. “You move, he gets it on the bum-bum.”
Her choice of term of endearment for her husband's backside stood in stark contrast with her tone that oozed restrained rage at the brink of outburst with every word.
“Please,” whimpered Gabriel.
Too scared to break the table manners decree, Germaine felt her eyes swell with tears.
“Please, what? Look at this pathetic little bitch,” Giselle snarled, leaving it to the other two to interpret who she was talking about. She then grabbed his chin and made him turn his head in his younger girlfriend’s direction. She hissed, “Look at your little whore and tell her!”
“Tell her what?” replied Gabriel, genuinely not knowing what his wife wanted to hear and yet earning himself three more whip-like spanks on his rump.
A tear rolled down Germaine’s face.
Looking her straight in the face, Giselle slowly exaggerated every syllable, turning them into freshly whetted steel. “Tell that tramp that you love it.”
“I,” he tried through labored breaths, “love it.”
“What was that, darling?” Gabrielle’s voice suddenly sugary sweet and melodious, albeit with an unmistakably spiteful undertone that would not condone dissent. “What is it that you love so much?”
Obviously fighting an inner struggle, Gabriel stared at his girlfriend, mouth ajar, jaw trembling. She looked back, gaze filled with pity and regret.
“What!”
Whack!
“Was!”
Whack!
“It!”
Whack!
“That!
Whack!
“You!”
Whack!
“Love!”
Whack!
“So!”
Whack!
“Much!”
While Germaine covered her face with her hands to avoid seeing her sugar Daddy being humiliated any further, he stared at her, enduring every spank.
Once the ordeal was over, he confessed with a voice as calm as his inflamed ass cheeks allowed, “I love being spanked.”
“And?”
Another forceful slap followed by a sharp inhalation through clenched teeth.
“I love being humiliated.”
“And?”
Another spank further reddening sensitized skin.
“I am Mommy’s good little puppy boy.”
By now, Germaine’s face was messy with streaks of molten kohl. Gabriel looked at her in shameful defeat, his entire alpha act decomposed in front of her. Unable to move, he felt his choker being tied around his neck. Before he could react, the buckle was already firmly fastened, leaving him enough space to just breathe but to make swallowing a great effort.
The clicking of the leash on the collar ring made him close his eyes to brace himself for the anticipated pull straining his larynx. Despite his mental preparation, the pressure on his Adam’s apple tore his eyes open wide and with them, his mouth. His tongue shot out along with a guttural gargling, all the while Germaine’s gaze was transfixed on this brutal trainwreck she watched her Daddy turn into.
With slow, dominant strides, Giselle marched toward Germaine, walking her husband on a leash that was so tense it left not the slightest room for insubordination. With her free hand, she pinched her husband’s plaything’s ear. With a spirited motion, she made her young girl lie on the bed.
Sitting beside Germaine, she pulled her pet towards Germaine’s crotch. Tousling his hair, she said, “So now, pup, be a good boy and eat your little whore’s cunny, yes?”
He tried to pull back, but it only made the strain on his neck near-unbearable, as, with increasing pull, it applied more pressure on his arteries, clouding his mind and perception.
“I know that you hate giving head because you think it’s not worthy of a ‘real’ man,” Giselle said, “but I’m leaving you a choice here: make that cheap tramp cum with your tongue like the useless mutt you are to me, or the next person you will talk to is my divorce lawyer. I will see to that.”
Gabriel’s reddened eyes stared at her with hateful defiance. He snarled, but another firm yank on the leash reminded him of his place in the hierarchy.
Finally, he mashed his face against Germaine’s dripping labia. Meanwhile, Giselle ran the back of her free hand against Germaine’s midriff and belly. She chuckled when the latter started grinding on Gabriel’s face.
“Now look who’s a good little fuckdoll after all,” she said. She placed her fingers around Germaine’s neck, earning herself a needy whimper. “That’s it, girl. Grind your twat against this dog’s face. Make him lick you clean.”
With no resistance, Germaine willingly surrendered to the commands uttered by her new Mistress. Despite that she was determined to be a good girl and keep her mouth closed so she wouldn’t spill Gabriel’s cum, her hummed moans soon filled the room, echoing in Gabriel’s ears, who, with every renewed vocal encouragement, became more enthusiastic in his foraging for her clitoris. Gradually, Germaine’s grinding against his face became harder to follow with his tongue.
Giselle straddled the younger woman while still maintaining the tension on the leash. With her free hand, she pinched and pulled Germaine’s nipples. Her hums of pleasurable pain came with full-body jerks as she was approaching her climax.
Giselle bent down and kissed Germaine’s neck. She then choked the girl just before she toppled over the edge, amplifying her orgasm. “Yes, cum for your lover’s wife, little girl,” she whispered.
Giselle kept Germaine pinned down until her orgasm abated. After allowing her to catch her breath a bit, Giselle climbed off her and stood up again, pulling the still panting girl back on her feet too. Germaine was still breathing through her nose, mouth closed, as ordered by the Missus in charge.
“Now let’s see if you’ve been a good girl,” the Mistress mused. “Open your mouth and stick out that tongue of yours.”
Germaine complied without hesitation, proudly presenting Gabriel’s white spunk that had turned into a foam on her tongue.
Grinning contentedly, Giselle addressed her husband, “Kneel, pet.”
He, too, obeyed her order without as much as a hint of resistance.
Looking down on him, Giselle commanded, “Head thrown back, mouth open, now!”
Again, he did as he was told.
“Come, little bird,” she softly said to Germaine. “Feed him his cum. Your Daddy deserves this humiliation.”
As Germaine puckered her lips to let a string of foamy cum drop into Gabriel’s mouth, his wife added, “And aim well, yes? No drop shall be wasted. Wasting is poor table manners.”
She watched closely, with a delightful smirk. “And now, boy, lick the remains off her tongue. I know you don’t like the taste of cum and the mere thought of swallowing it makes you nauseous, but remember, you have a marriage to salvage.”
The order was as simple as it was effective. Gabriel and Germaine engaged in heated canoodling that all-too-soon started to look too enjoyable for Giselle’s taste.
“That will be quite enough,” she muttered with an air of contempt. “Tongues out, both of you.”
She took her time closely inspecting both their tongues until she was satisfied.
Then, she addressed Germaine. “You have exhausted your usefulness and overstayed your welcome now, bimbo,” Giselle scoffed, pointing to the bedroom door. “You have exactly two minutes to get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”
The threat didn’t even need the infamous or else to be unmistakably clear. Sobbing, Gabrielle left the bedroom. Before long, the front door could be heard slamming.
Giselle checked her wristwatch, coking one eyebrow. “Ninety-three seconds.” She made an approving pout. “That’s a new record, I believe.” Her timbre was, contrary to just under two minutes before, calm and easy.
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, back on his feet, undoing the collar on his neck. “I needed that.”
“Always happy to help,” replied his wife, walking around him with an index finger on his shoulder.
When she was standing behind him, she hugged him tightly, hands pressed on his pectorals, nails raking across his skin.
“Yeah, she was getting clingy,” he dryly stated. “I hate it when they do that.”
Giselle kissed his cheek. “And that’s why you have your wife who’s got your back.” She giggled.
He chimed in with a chuckle. “And that’s why I love you so much.”
“Oh, you hopelessly romantic charmer, you,” she said, then kissed his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder. She whispered, “I love you too.”
“I’ll still have to get myself a new plaything now, though. That sucks.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll help you pick her like every time. The lecture halls I teach are filled with desperate girls.” She made Gabriel turn his head to kiss him on his lips. “’s a shame, though, that one. She tastes really good.”
He shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”
