She Completes the Fantasy

When I awoke, I found myself lying face down, back on the table on which my wife rode me to begin the evening. Lying on my stomach, I discovered a hole in the table similar to one on tables at health resorts or spas. My face rested just inside of this hole, and underneath the table, set on the ground, was a mirror that showed the image of another hole in the table, this one quite unlike those at health resorts or spas, as dangling through this hole were my testicles and flaccid penis.

I felt her hand on my ass, gently rubbing it. "I know how much you like watch, Blake," my wife said. "And I'm not talking about that porn I caught you watching. I'm talking about us, when I give you handjobs or blowjobs. You always like to watch when I make you cum." She lightly spanked me. "You like to watch your hot cum shoot out of your dick, landing on my tits, my palm, my legs. Always, you like to watch. So, I'm going to let you watch all of this."

"Rachel," I said, testing the strength of my current bonds. Sure enough, I couldn't get out of them. I could move, yes, but I couldn't escape this new position. My head had a strap at the top and at my neck, forcing me to keep my face in the hole. Other straps around my shoulders, the middle of my back, right above my butt, right below my butt and at my ankles kept me at bay. Each wrist also had its own individual strap.

"Yes?" she asked, lightly spanking me again.

"What is this?" I tried moving again—pointless as it was.

"This is the ultimate climax, Blake. It's just you and me: husband and wife. I didn't want anyone else around for this. This is going to be rather intimate, I think." Tracing my ass-crack with her fingernail, she moaned. "This is going to be just what you wanted, honey."

For some reason, that worried me. "Listen," I said, "we don't have to do anymore. I mean, what you gave me so far was great, but—."

She cut me off abruptly with a hard smack of this ass—not with her hand, and not with the riding crop she had with her earlier. This was something heavier and stronger, and it stung.

Before I could ask what it was, she smacked my ass again.

"Blake," she said. "I decided to not gag you during this because I want to hear you moan and beg for me to stop. I did not want to hear you try to talk your way out of this, not after what I've given you. I've given you the ultimate married man's fantasy, and I'm not about to let you fucking go without giving you a great finish. Or," she added as an afterthought, "unscathed."

That worried me more. "Rachel," I said, and then another hard smack, followed by two more quickly, one following the other in rapid succession. I cried out.

"The wonderful thing about this paddle," she said, "is that I don't have to alternate between your cheeks. One swing, two cheeks. It's great. It's wide and long enough to get both of them. Takes less time, too."

"Rachel..."

Smack smack smack.

"Oh, God," I cried, but she smacked me three more times. I'm not sure, but I may have actually started crying, and there was nothing I could do. I could either try to talk my way out of whatever twisted finale she had planned with the threat of further beating, or I could hold my tongue and let her go through with it.

"Your ass is red," she said, and hit it again. "It looks like a cherry." Two more smacks. "If you're ready to continue, I'll stop beating your ass, Blake. It's so damn red. Is that—yep, there's even a little blood on my paddle. Have you had enough?"

"Yes!" I yelled, much louder than I intended.

"Good." I heard her hang the paddle somewhere on the wall, and then, looking into the mirror beneath me, saw my wife get under the table and kneel before my dangling cock—which, to my shame, was a little harder now than it was before Rachel started swatting my ass for the hell of it.

To my further shame, Rachel noticed. As she grabbed my cock and pulled on it, she said, "I see you liked getting your little ass beaten. Maybe I'll keep that paddle around after tonight, huh?" She smiled at me through the mirror.

I'll admit, even after all of what had happened tonight, the sight of my wife took my breath away and made me grow harder.

She knelt before my dick in a black corset that hugged her small breasts, giving her more cleavage than ever before. The back of the lingerie ended just above her ass, which she left bare, not bothering with a thong anymore tonight. Still wearing her thigh-high black boots and dangerously pointy heels, she looked like a sex goddess, one that even Venus would praise.

Wrapping her right hand around my testicles, she smiled at then deep-throated me, which was a first. It felt incredible. She gagged and pulled her mouth away from my stick, but still held on to my throbbing balls. "How'd that feel?"

"Incredible."

She laughed, and then sat down under the table, facing the mirror, spreading her legs so I could see her fantastic pussy. Giggling, with her left index finger, she started rubbing the head of my dick. She went faster, and I moaned, and she said, "You better be enjoying this." Then she dug her nail into the slit on the head of my cock, and I flinched, recoiling at the sudden, painful action. She laughed some more—probably at my futile attempt at escape—but she didn't pull away her nail. Instead, she twisted her nail around in the slit.

"Oh, Jesus, please stop!"

"You mean you don't like this?"

"God—no! Stop, Rachel!"

She laughed and laughed, continuing to smile in the mirror, seemingly oblivious to the torture she inflicted on to my penis. "Not yet," she said, and squeezed my balls tighter while digging harder into my dick's head.

I begged her to stop, but she didn't listen. I cried out for God, but no answer there, either—just the perverse laughter from my seductive wife.

Suddenly, she pulled out her nail and traced her finger over my swollen testicles. "Oooh," she cooed. "These look nice and veiny, Blake." I felt her tongue tentatively lick one of them, and then she started licking both of them faster. She'd lay her tongue flat against one testicle and then drag it across both of them, and then repeat.

After several licks, she said to me, "Are you ready for your abuse to continue?"

Before I could answer, she let go of my balls, deciding instead to grab my dick with her right hand. She took a hold of my girth and squeezed. And then put the open palm of her left hand underneath my penis and said, "When you come—and you will be coming—I'm going to catch it and then eat it. I'm going to milk you like an animal, Blake, and you won't be able to do anything about it."

She stroked my shaft slowly, and I moaned. It felt good. My wife always felt good.

In the mirror, she smiled at me. "When you come, it's going to get a lot worse."

Startled, I asked, "What?"

Continuing stroking my cock in long motions, catching the pre-cum in her palm, she said, "This is punishment, honey. I'm giving you exactly what you wanted."

"No," I said, shaking my head, or at least trying to.

Frowning, she nodded and said matter-of-factly, "Yes. This is punishment for me catching you watching that filth. This is exactly what happens to the men in those videos you were watching. They wanted to be abused by the woman. And that's exactly what's going to happen to you."

Oh, fuck. "Please, don't do that, Rachel."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck your ass or anything like that. That's too much for me. But making you come, and then abusing your cock long after you've released your load...that sounds like a lot of fun, and I want to try it."

She switched techniques. Still gripping my shaft, she took her left index finger and started circling the head of penis, like she had done earlier, right before she dig her nail into me. "Your head is so swollen, baby. The tip looks like a big old mushroom. Your head looks like a different color than your ass. This is more purple than red. Does this feel good?"

It did and I told her so.

"Good, good." She continued circling the head slowly with her finger. It felt incredible. She has done this to me before, but never long enough to make me come. I wondered if this time would be different. I wondered if I even could come this way. We had never tried. My wife gets impatient in bed, especially when she's working on me, and after a while of toying with me, she wants to see me come, so she abandons what's making me squirm in favor of what makes me explode.

"I'm going to suck your cock," she said, and then wrapped her lips around me. In the mirror, she looked incredible, kneeling in such an outfit and sucking on the dangling cock from above her. She didn't deep-throat me this time, but she swirled her tongue around the head, licking all the pre-cum, darting the tip of her tongue into the tip of my penis, and then moving it around the head once more. During this, she massaged my balls with her right hand, gently taking the right testicle into her hand, squeezing it lightly, and then doing the same with the left testicle.

The feel of her mouth around my dick, and watching her blow me, drove me to the edge. Before I could think, I spoke. "I'm close, baby."

Immediately, she released my cock. "Not yet," she said, wiping her mouth. "Not just yet."

Then she flicked my balls with her finger.

"Ouch," I said, it being mildly painful.

She flicked again—harder this time.

"Rachel, that hurts."

Ignoring me, she flicked my testicles three times. I felt my stomach drop. It didn't feel good, but she said, "Wow, babe, I didn't think it was possible, but your dick is actually getting harder."

Flick-flick-flick.

"Please, Rachel."

Turning to face the mirror, she smiled, and for the first time in my life, my wife scared me. "See, the thing is, Blake, you have nowhere to run. You can't get out. You're stuck. And I'm going to torture the hell out of you."

She grabbed my dick and more pre-cum oozed out. "If that truly frightened you, then you wouldn't be so fucking hard right now."

I tried shaking my head. "I can't control that."

Frowning, but never taking her eyes off the mirror, she shook her head. "Well, that's too bad for you."

She held my gaze as she started pumping me again with her right hand and rubbing her open left palm against the head. It stung a little, and I felt a burning sensation in my loins, similar to when I'm about to come, but not quite the same.

Picking up speed, she said, "When I tell you to come, you better fucking come."

She went faster, her right hand squeezing the shaft hard but pumping up-and-down quickly, while her left hand went in a fast circle, the palm never leaving the surface of my penis' throbbing head.

"Oh, God," I said.

"Not yet." Faster she went.

"Please, Rachel."

"Trust me, you don't want what comes next."

Like I had a choice. "You're going to make me come!"

"Now," she said, and went even faster and harder. "Come for me now. Shoot your cum on me. Shoot your sticky cum on my legs! Do it! Now!"

I loved when she told me to come. I always asked her to do that in the past, and whenever she commanded me to do so, I couldn't resist her naughty instruction. And even though I had come twice already tonight—was it still the same night? I had lost track of time—once inside of her younger cousin and once onto my wife's amazing little ass, I closed my eyes and with a grunt, I came again.

"That's it," Rachel said, having moved her left hand to my balls to coax as much cum out of me as possible, slowing down the pace. "That's it. That's my big guy. That's my Blake."

I opened my eyes, and she was smiling into the mirror. "I love you," I said, and she only laughed.

My cum had shot out of me straight down onto her shiny leather boots, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she asked me, "Is that it?"

Rubbing my balls harder, my shaft tighter, she spat at me again: "Is that it?"

"No," I whimpered.

"No, that's not it? You have more? I want more!" She continued her hard rubbing, and then she released my balls and started twisting my sensitive head. She yelled, "Where is it?"

"No," I said again, this time a mere cry. "No, please stop."

But she ignored me and rubbed the head harder, and I cried out in pain. "God, please stop, Rachel!"

Pumping and twisting so hard that she panted, she said, almost short of breath, "No. I'm sorry, Blake, but this is what you wanted. I'm not stopping. I'm not going to stop."

"No." It came out as a whisper.

"I'm sorry, honey."

"No."

She mocked me, then. "Oooh, does that hurt, big guy? Does that hurt, Blake? Does it hurt when I abuse your fucking little sensitive head?"

"Please," I said, blinking away tears, embarrassed and ashamed. "Please, Rachel."

She moaned. "This is making me so wet, Blake, hearing you beg me to stop, hearing you beg me for mercy on your cock. God, I'm so wet, honey, so fucking wet. Having complete control over you is making me horny."

"Please."

"You can take it, honey." She rubbed my head faster and harder, never letting up on the speed or strength. Tears flowed out of my eyes and I could barely see in the mirror anymore. "You can take it, Blake. Your big, strong cock can take it, can't it? It better, poor baby. It better be able to take it."

Continuing her pumping, she stopped rubbing my head only to re-insert her fingernail into the slit. I jerked against the restraints, trying to get away, trying to get free of these damn bonds and from my crazy wife.

But I couldn't.

"Nowhere to go," she mocked. "Can't get away, poor baby. Can't get away from your wife abusing your cock. Oh, no, nowhere to go."

"Plea...please, Rachel...stop." Wheezing now, I sounded pathetic, even to me.

Swallowing my cock, she bit down on the head—not hard, but considering the tenderness of the head, she didn't have to bite hard. I yelled, and she nibbled on it some more as she used her now free hands to squeeze my testicles. I felt like passing out.

Spitting me out, taking ahold of my shaft again, she pouted, "I want more cum. Do I have to finger you for it?"

"I don't think I..." I trailed off and she twisted my penis.

"I. Want. More. Cum!" She dug her fingernail back in.

"Rachel..."

"Where is it?"

"Rachel, please."

"Where's my fucking cum?"

The pain was growing, becoming too much for me to handle. My stomach felt weak, my head felt like it was swimming in the clouds, and my cock and balls felt like they were on fire. I could hardly see anymore, and I thought I was going to pass out again when I felt her finger drive into my asshole.

Vision suddenly clear, I looked into the mirror and only saw the bottom of her legs, her sexy boots with my previous load sliding down the leather toward the floor. Then I saw her left hand come into view and grab my cock, beginning to jerk me off as her right hand violated me.

"Where's your fucking prostate?" she barked.

Grunting, my head went back as far as it could.

"You like when I finger-fuck you, Blake? I figured you would. I'm going to make you come again, Blake, and it's going to hurt like hell."

Her left thumb flicked my penis' head and I yelped. "God, stop this, Rachel. Please."

"I'm afraid I can't," she said, feigning sympathy. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but this is exactly what you wanted, and this is exactly what you're going to get. You wanted to be dominated, and I'm dominating you. You wanted to have sex with women other than your wife and to eat other pussies, and that's exactly what you got. But most of all, you wanted this post-orgasm torture shit, and this is what you're getting, whether you can take it or not. You wanted me to abuse your cock, and that's exactly what you're getting. And even though you're afraid of getting fucked in the ass, you wanted to get rimmed, to get fingered, and that's exactly what you're getting. Now come for me again before I get really mad!"

She found my prostate and fingered it roughly, much rougher than Jackie had earlier, and as she pumped my poor, sensitive and raw penis, I cried out as I spurted come like a geyser, my white jizz landing on her boots, giving them a new shine.

She continued to finger my ass. "That's it, Blake. That's it. Come for your wife. Come for me, baby. Come. Come. Come."

I came, came, came, and she was right: it hurt like fucking hell. But I came nonetheless, my body betraying me, my body loving the torment inflicted upon me by my wife. Yet again, tears rolled down my cheeks and onto the ground as I continued coming thanks to Rachel still fingering my prostate.

Feeling dirty, I shut my eyes.

Soon, she released my spent cock and extracted her finger from my ass. Silently, she got on the ground before me, and stroked my cheek very gently. I opened my eyes.

From below me, my wife smiled. And then she kissed me. She said, "I love you, Blake."

Afraid to speak, I said nothing. She stood and began undoing my restraints, and shortly, I was free. I stood, naked, and faced her, dressed to abuse as a dominatrix, and she smiled.

She kissed me again and said, "Happy Birthday, honey."

One I'll never forget.