Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: Paying the cost of infidelity is payment in return|
Theodore felt sick to his stomach. The consequences of his thoughtless and selfish behavior of the past few years were finally coming home to him. He set down his bourbon highball and put his face into his long, thin hands. In the smoky clamor of the happy hour sports bar, Theodore began to weep. Deep sobs released stored up anguish and self-incrimination.
Theodore arrived home around 9:30 that Thursday night. Wendy was watching television mindlessly as per usual, and she barely noticed that he’d walked in. She heard his keys clink on the granite countertop and looked at him. She saw a man on the edge of sanity. Wendy became instantly worried. Ted’s eyes were puffy and red, and he looked positively exhausted. She turned the TV off and stood. His suit was wrinkled and ill-fitting, his face was long and sallow, and his eyes pierced hers with alarming intensity.
“What is it, Ted? Do you feel alright?” Theodore didn’t move. “Honey, sit down before you fall down.” Wendy took his arm and brought him to the couch. His knees buckled and he crumpled onto the cushion with a sigh. Wendy sat beside him, looking with worry on her husband.
Theodore regarded his wife with his tired, burning eyes. They had married shortly after college, having met in pre-law classes and dated on and off. Wendy was of normal stature, he thought 5’ 7”, with a full figure. He didn’t actually know her weight; he seemed to remember she wore size 20. She sported wavy red hair that fell in spiraling curls around her round shining face. Tonight, however, her typically bright gray-green eyes were clouded with concern. He watched her mouth moving almost in slow motion, with a vague notion that she was talking.
“Ted? My God, what’s wrong? Are you ill?” Wendy put her palm to Theodore’s forehead, scanning for signs of fever or chills. He felt normal, but his face told a different story. Ted felt his wife’s soft, warm hand on his forehead, and he nearly burst with tears at her touch. Finally he spoke.
“Wendy, I’m so sorry. I have some things to tell you, things I’ve kept from you for so long.” Wendy’s face fell. “Wendy, I—I’ve had an affair.” Her face went white, almost green. She searched his eyes for a moment, hoping for a hint of humor or lie but finding none. “Well, actually more than one.” Theodore’s eyes were welled with tears, and his voice wavered. Wendy turned her eyes to the floor, her heart crushed and her mind racing. “They were kind of accidental, I didn’t mean to—“
“Accidental?” Wendy cut him off. “You had MULTIPLE affairs, accidentally? Ted—“
“I’m trying to explain, listen!” Ted broke in, feeling himself becoming defensive. Wendy, showing remarkable restraint, let him speak. “One was four years ago, with a coworker on a business trip, in New York. That one was one time only.” Wendy squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to cry. “We had too many drinks at the hotel bar, and she had just left her husband. I was comforting her, and well…” Theodore trailed off, not wanting to say any more and knowing he didn’t have to. He heard his wife begin to cry. Ted forced himself to continue, to get it all out.
“The other one just ended, tonight. She’s a regular at The Halftime, so we got to talking over the past few months. She’s married, too. She told me tonight she couldn’t go on betraying him like this—“
Wendy erupted into a loud sob, her breath seething with anger. She clamped her hand over her mouth, clenching her jaw to try to control her hatred and her pain. Ted felt sick again, but started talking again.
“So she broke it off. And I realized how relieved I felt. But I also felt so terrible for having betrayed you.” Her bawling made Ted feel utterly worthless, and wanting to lend some comfort, tried to put a hand on her denim knee.
“No!” Wendy screamed, batting his hand away. “You don’t touch me, you fucker! You bastard!” She felt like a tiny, tightly wadded pile of trash, hearing her husband describe his sexual exploits with TWO other women. She wanted him to suffer and die in this moment, almost as much as she wanted to die herself. Her heart positively ached with grief, and the tears ran endlessly. Spittle hung from her clenched teeth as she breathed angrily and sporadically.
Ted felt instantly ashamed for having tried to touch her, to comfort her with some cheap consolation while her tore her world apart with his confession. He breathed deeply and tried to steady his voice.
“Wendy, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Any details, anything. I don’t know if you can stand to keep me as your husband, and hate to say that I won’t be surprised if you want a divorce. But I need to tell you that I’m willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to make our marriage work. I accept full responsibility for this. I’m—“ Ted choked on his own tears and paused to breathe and clear his throat. “I’m ready to accept the consequences of him behavior, of my betrayal and my sin against you.”
Wendy continued to sob, her mind flopping between wanting to hold him and pretend it didn’t happen, to mentally packing up and moving out tonight. She considered all they had done and experienced together, their home, their careers, great vacations and great friends and neighbors. She wanted to smash them all into a million pieces. She wanted to hurt him back. Theodore, to his credit, said nothing more, letting Wendy wrestle and seethe, weep and curse, grieve and ponder. They sat in silence for nearly two hours. Wendy’s audible grieving had subsided, but Ted could see on her face, in her steely gray eyes, that the sorrow raged on.
Wendy eventually entered the stage wherein she considered that perhaps she’d driven him to it. Had she been cold and distant? Had Ted found her so repulsive that he’d been driven elsewhere for sex? Had he ever loved her? She knew, of course, that he had, that in most every respect Ted was a good man. She loved him, even with his faults, and even after this horrific act of betrayal.
It was nearly midnight when Wendy spoke. “Okay, Ted. I’ll tell you what I know,” she said, almost casually. Theodore was surprised by her tone. “I know that I’m furious and hurt beyond words.” Ted nodded heavily. “I know that I’m not feeling terribly rational right now. But I also know that you truly love me, and that I truly love you.” Ted’s eyes lifted at this, and he looked at her with hope. “I know that I am not going to leave you over this. It’s going to take a lot of work, and we need to get some help. But if you’re serious about fixing this, and if I can learn to trust you again, I think we can make this work.” Ted nodded happily, almost foolishly. Wendy noticed his upbeat expression. “But you need to know just how hurt and angry and violated I feel. This isn’t over. It hasn’t even begun, Ted.” His faced sobered, and he nodded slowly. “I’m fucking pissed, Ted. I can’t believe you did this to me.”
Wendy looked at her watch, and sighed with exhaustion. She’d been emoting nonstop for well over almost three hours. “I’ve got to go to bed. Sleep on the couch, and take tomorrow off. We need to do some more talking. Good night, Ted.” Ted watched his sizable wife stand and pad across the kitchen tile toward the stairs. He loosened his tie robotically and kicked off his dress shoes. He was peeling off his acrid, smoke-clogged pinstripe suit coat when he heard Wendy speak from the doorway at the far end of the kitchen. “Thanks for telling me the truth, Ted. I do love you. Good night.” He watched her slip into the darkness beyond the doorway. He stripped out of his slacks and shirt, and laid down on the large sofa in his boxers, t-shirt and black socks. Ted pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and covered his thin body. His entire body was completely wiped out, and he prayed for sleep as he fumbled for the table lamp knob.
Friday morning, Theodore awoke to the sound of dripping water. Remembering where he was, he sat up and recognized the drip of the coffee maker. Ted rose and walked into the kitchen. He fetched two mugs from the cupboard and when the dripping stopped, he filled them with the dark aromatic brew. He drew some comfort from the smell and taste of it, a heady symbol of home and cozy times, of laughter with friends and quiet mornings with Wendy. At that moment, Wendy emerged from the doorway, wrapped in her celadon green fleece robe. Her flame-red hair was disheveled and her eyes looked tired.
Wendy saw her husband standing, looking quite ridiculous in his black socks and underwear. She almost smiled, but instead nodded cordially. Ted handed her a full mug of coffee. It was warm in her cold morning hands, and it warmed her insides she sipped at the fragrant brew. They stood in silence, enjoying the uncomplicated morning to this difficult day. Her coffee was nearly gone when she spoke first.
“You can shower, if you want. I took one last night before I went to sleep.” Ted nodded and set down his coffee. He paused a moment, looking at her as if to speak. He swallowed the thought and passed near her as he strode to the master bathroom upstairs.
The day went surprisingly quickly. Both of them apparently felt that being stuck at home would not be helpful, so they ran a dozen of the typical errands that married people perform. Stops were made at Bed Bath and Beyond, Home Depot and Target. They had a quiet lunch at Wendy’s and even shopped for a new suit for Ted. Conversation was sparse, but neither felt that anything terribly important had been left out of the previous night’s discussion.
Wendy felt occasional outrage, and several times nearly asked Ted for the names and telephone numbers of his former lovers. She wanted justice, she wanted to cause them pain and humiliation. But she always checked herself, taking the high road and reminding herself how seriously she took their vows, now as the seven years prior when they were spoken publicly.
Ted was content to avoid the topic altogether, of course. He knew it wasn’t just going to disappear as it had seemed to, and he read her face in those moments and felt both tremendous relief and guilt when she swallowed her obvious rage.
They returned home in the late afternoon and busied themselves putting away their purchases. They had a late dinner of a frozen pizza and some salad. Theodore felt like had an ulcer from the nearly constant cramp of guilt in his gut. He lay down on the couch after dinner, and was asleep by 10 o’clock. Wendy instinctively pulled the blanket over him and turned off the television and lights before retiring to the big lonely bed upstairs.
The week went by in relative quiet. Wendy had asked some clarifying questions, which of course made Ted extremely uncomfortable, but to her credit she’d kept her tone even and her demeanor collegial. They seemed to be more comfortable around each other, but Ted always slept on the couch. By the end of the week, Wendy was beginning to wish he’d come back to their bed. His nightly absence, while done with good intention on his part, only served to remind her how lonely and artificial the bedroom had become. Finally on Friday night Wendy led him upstairs for bed. He nearly protested, but the thought of his own bed and the normalcy of sharing their marriage bed burned brightly in his dark world, and he didn’t fight it. They both slept better that night than any other since the sky had fallen the week before.
The second week felt almost like normal life. Theodore knew he had been under-performing at the law firm lately. He came in early but always left on time, to demonstrate his continuing commitment to Wendy. While at work, his mind was frequently on her and their broken life together of late. This week would be different, he promised himself. Wendy’s work life was starting to normalize as well. She worked as an technical writer and editor, writing and proofing software and equipment manuals. She’d long ago given up her dreams of a career in law; when they’d graduated, they could only afford for one of them to continue on to law school. Wendy knew that Ted’s intellect, demeanor and passion more strongly suited him for the career, so she lovingly acquiesced. She instead found enjoyment in writing, and her sharp mind was well suited the logical rigors of her technical specialty.
One surprising side effect of her vocation was that Wendy found herself internalizing the linear, prescriptive, structured fashion of her products. After all, she was surrounded day after day with emotionless, highly procedural verbiage. She hadn’t noticed for several years that it was having an impact on how she thought, how she behaved, how she reacted to the world. While still a very sweet and thoughtful person, her life had become a tad robotic, filled with highly ordered tasks and obligations. Ted’s confession of infidelity had smashed all of that in an instant. His loose, random, non-sequential behavior had not factored in cause and consequence. He had ignored the obvious byproducts of his crime, and was somehow surprised by the results. The chaos of his behavior overwhelmed, but she also envied his freedom, his capacity to choose to do something without regard or even suspicion of its logical outcome. She secretly longed for that, and that longing razed the long-standing bulwarks of her structured life.
The moments of ordinary life had returned to normal for Ted and Wendy, at least on the surface. Both were almost to the point of wanting and needing physical contact from the other, but neither could bring themselves to ask for it. Ted would occasionally find himself in a position or mindset to masturbate, but the painful memory of his unfaithfulness always descended and his erection reliably disappeared. For her part, Wendy wanted to be intimate with her husband, but likewise the long shadow of his trysts darkened her heart in those moments. She could not think of how to rectify this now-sullied part of their life. She’d originally suggested therapy, but the cost in time and money and the heartache of reliving those thoughts and words had pushed her away from professional help. She finally happened on a surprising idea that shocked her. ‘Fight fire with fire,’ went the old adage. If she could not recapture intimacy with abstinence and politeness, then other measures were called for. And if she truly wanted to taste his type of chaotic freedom, he would have to taste her structure and order.
It was four weeks to the day since Theodore had dropped the bomb of his confession onto their household. On a quiet Thursday night, Ted came home about 15 minutes later than usual, the result of trying to finish his work week a day early to take a day off with Wendy at her request. They’d been invited to a company party thrown by Wendy’s company, and he needed to get dressed and cleaned up quickly to avoid showing up late. Ted dropped his briefcase on the floor of the kitchen and rifled through the mail. He noticed a note from Wendy on the counter. “Hurry up and get dressed!” it read. Ted tossed his keys and wallet on the counter and headed for the stairs.
The house was quiet and Ted could hear the shower running. He stripped in the bedroom and hung his suit in the closet. He nearly started to get dressed in his less formal clothing for the party, but he felt dirty and craved a shower. At that moment Ted heard the water turn off and Wendy getting out and toweling off. She came into the bedroom in her robe with her iridescent orange hair in wet strings around her neck. Ted watched her enter and thought she looked radiant. He reminded himself of how lovely she was. He had, over the years, come to resent her weight, and while he loved her no less, he admitted to himself that he’d sometimes felt embarrassed to be seen with her. Watching her bounce into the bedroom, dripping with water, her face radiating its warm healthy glow, Ted winced with guilt for having ever thought that way about her. She beamed at him with a warm smile that melted his heart.
“If you’re going to shower, you’d better hurry,” Wendy admonished softly. Ted nodded and headed for the shower. He lathered and rinsed with relative speed, enjoying the warm spray across his back and chest, but conscious of the time. Finally he exited, dried himself, performed his basic grooming tasks in front of the mirror, skipped to the bedroom and dressed quickly in a golf shirt and slacks. He could hear Wendy downstairs in the kitchen, and he hurried to catch up with her.
Wendy heard Ted thump clumsily down the stairs, hastily rounding the post and entering the kitchen. “Wendy?” Ted glanced around and couldn’t see her. “I’m ready!” Ted walked to the counter and retrieved his wallet and key ring, slipping them into his pockets and looking for his shoes near the backdoor.
Wendy entered the kitchen silently from the darkened dining room. Her heavy block heels landed noiselessly on the hard tile floor. It was several seconds before Ted finally noticed her. He turned to face her. Theodore’s eyes went wide and his face whitened as he stared at Wendy in complete shock.
Wendy stood facing Ted. Her large, rounded body and full breasts encased in skin-tight, electric blue latex. It hugged her body in full detail, exaggerating every feature of her full figure. Her thick legs with their muscular calves and conical thighs were perfectly wrapped by the startling blue plastic. Her wide hips stretched at the material, and her puffy cleft crotch was clearly evident behind the tight blue casing. Her rolling stomach showed waves, and her 40DD breasts cramped preposterously behind the glossy latex, shoved up into almost comical cleavage that ended at a large metal zipper in the middle of her chest. Her arms were likewise encased, down to her wrists. Her fiery mane was still slightly damp, but the strands curled sensuously around her neck like orange serpents. Her legs disappeared into tall orange leather boots that stood on a three-inch platform sole and a matching six-inch block heel. Her right hand held a riding crop and her smile was almost as sexy as it was sinister.
Ted could barely breathe. He steadied himself on the granite countertop, unable to speak to or even process effectively the lurid plump creature that stood across from him. Wendy let him linger there for nearly a full minute before taking control of the situation.
“Theodore, the only way you and I will ever be whole again is if you learn from your experience and from the pain that you’ve caused. You told me that night that you would do absolutely anything to make this marriage last, is that correct?” Ted nodded meekly, still unable to speak. “Good, then it starts now. On your knees, Theodore.” Her tone was measured and even. Ted stood dumbstruck for a few seconds before acting.
Ted still had not yet rendered judgment on the situation. He was curious and definitely aroused, but he had never seen or even heard mention of this side of his ebullient wife. He was not yet afraid of her, but he wasn’t sure how far she might take this roleplay. Dutifully he lowered himself to his knees on the hard tile floor, more out of curiosity than true submission. Wendy noticed his hesitation, and moved quickly to squash it. She stepped closer and brought the riding crop across his shoulder with nearly full strength. Ted had not anticipated her move and was caught with the full impact of her stroke. The crop snapped solidly across his back and the sting was instantaneous and unbearably painful. Ted yelled out in agony, and nearly rose to disarm her. But Wendy moved quickly and brought the snap end of the crop under his chin like a knife.
“Don’t you fucking move, Ted. You are about to enter a state of penitence unlike any you’ve ever known. When you emerge out the other side, you will be wiped clean, and I will be wiped clean, and we will be closer than we ever thought possible.”
Ted heard her words despite the throbbing slash that burned on his shoulder blade. He wisely remained on his knees, fighting to stave off anger at Wendy for her violence.
“Theodore, you will do as I say under any and all circumstances, is that clear?” Ted nodded with a grimace. “You will do anything to make this marriage work, and you will know when you have done enough. And when you reach that point, IF you reach that point, we will be healed in a way that we can never be broken again.” Ted resisted the urge to run away, even to drive away, from this harsh pain-inflicting woman. He looked at her again, expecting to see venom in her eyes, but instead seeing an honesty and a confidence that he never recalled having seen there before. Ted swallowed loudly and nodded again.
“Take off your clothes.” Her tone remained cool but human, not the least bit elevated or cruel. Ted pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. As he stood to remove his slacks, Wendy tapped him again with the crop, this time much lighter, across his chest. He winced more out of fear than pain, and sat down to finish undressing. When he was completely naked, Wendy retrieved from the dining room a foam gardening pad and slipped it under Ted’s sore knees. The thick foam cushioned his kneecaps from the cruel hardness of the cold tile floor and made continued kneeling almost bearable.
Wendy circled slowly around Ted, lightly grazing his skin with the top of the crop. The sensation of the leather against his skin made him shiver. As Wendy rounded him to his front again, she smiled at the sight of goose bumps across his chest and his hardened nipples. She teased them with the crop, amazed at the firmness of their erection. Ted felt embarrassed and wanted to cover them with his hands, but he thought better of it, his back still burning from her violent stroke. She looked down at this penis, still flaccid but clearly reserving some blood. As she stared at it, it started to bloat, and Ted cringed with humiliation. She pressed the crop down onto his cock, chasing away his erection with her tool. She circled again, slapping his small ass lightly with the leather flap of the crop. She continued slapping him, increasing her speed and force slowly, until she was paddling him with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. Ted closed his eyes and willed himself to endure it. The pain was entirely emotional, his egotistical male brain craving control over the situation that would bring an end to this humiliating act.
Finally the crop stopped moving. Ted’s buttock was red and hot. Wendy bent down to put her hand over it. Without even touching him she could feel the heat emanating from his irritated skin. She finally put her cool hand to his inflamed ass cheek, and he was rewarded with the cooling sensation of her touch. “Good,” she purred seductively. “You’re learning.” Ted had no idea what she meant by this, but he knew he had to survive this challenge to avoid losing her and their life together.
She circled front again, and thrust the crop into his groin. It narrowly missed jabbing his scrotum, and he gasped in recognition of this. The end of the crop slid between his genitals and his thigh, remaining there cold and rough against his tender flesh. She twisted the crop in her fingers, and the flap and the braided shaft sent uncomfortable sensations to Ted’s brain. That brain was racing with panic now, and Ted again considered stopping this game before he got seriously hurt. But Wendy’s movements became gentle again, and he kept his mouth shut. She removed the crop and put the end to her nose. Ted watched her inhale, smelling the fleshy scent of his crotch on the leather flap. She then put the flap to his nose, and without command he breathed in. The smell of his balls penetrated his sinus, and he found himself becoming aroused again. Wendy noticed his returning erection and placed her terrifying leather boot against his crotch. The sharp hard rubber against his swelling cock felt very strange, but it did not scare away his arousal. Wendy lowered her foot and saw his penis pulsing as it grew, arcing further and further upwards. She pushed down on the head with the crop, and released. Ted’s cock bounced back up, growing and pulsing even more as blood continued to flood in.
She returned to Ted’s backside, and ran the crop down his spine and in between his buttocks. Ted shifted uneasily, and Wendy snapped his other cheek for it. She continued to work the crop gently between his ass cheeks. “Spread your knees,” she commanded softly. Ted widened his stance on the pad. Wendy now had unfettered access to Ted’s backside. She teased his anus with the flap of the crop and tickled the backside of his balls. Ted steadied himself by sitting slightly and resting his hands on his thighs. This lowered him but spread his ass wider, so Wendy did not punish him. She now used her bare hand, placing it fingers-down on his lower back and sliding her palm down until she crested his tailbone. At the split of his ass, her middle finger dropped into the crack while the other fingers rode the surface of his buttocks. Her fingertip touched his anus, and it was surprisingly warm. Ted shivered but said nothing. She tenderly stroked at his orifice for a moment before reaching further down and enveloping his low-hanging scrotum with his cool hand.
Ted’s cock was fully engorged, and it ached as Wendy massaged his balls gently behind him. He longed to touch it, but resisted, giving himself fully to her dominion over his body. Suddenly she pulled her hand away and snapped his bottom sharply with her crop. Ted lurched forward, almost losing his balance and toppling. Catching himself, he returned upright, then deliberately settled back down into his more exposing stance. She repeated the procedure, running her palm down, stroking his anus, cupping his balls and then smacking him. With each smack the pain oddly became less pronounced, and Ted always returned to his receptive position. His cock was turning purple, he noticed, and it swayed rhythmically as the blood pulsed. He realized with some embarrassment that he was starting to enjoy the procedure, even the snap, which by now was more a punctuation than a punishment.
After nearly thirty repetitions of this cycle of exploration, embrace and rebuke, Wendy finally stopped. She put her hands on his shoulders behind him, feeling his strength and his weakness. Ted’s knees were exhausted and it was all he could do not to sit on his haunches or lay on his stomach. But Wendy was fully aware how hard he was working to maintain his assigned posture, and she secretly praised him in her heart for his fortitude and his courage. She walked around him and into the unlit dining room. She returned seconds later, having set down the riding crop in exchange for something else. She held it in her hands, and Ted’s confusion turned quickly to trepidation when he finally identified her new tool.
Wendy stepped cautiously through the straps and pulled the device up to her hips. She buckled it quickly behind her, and then dropped her hands to her sides. From her tightly packed crotch now hung a large black vinyl dildo. Ted estimated with terror that it must sit fully eight inches in length, its contour broken up by realistically modeled fleshy wrinkles. The realistic head hung pendulous at the far end of this shiny black phallus, looming less than two feet from Ted’s face.
“Open your mouth, Theodore.” Her voice was pleasant, but the words fell on Ted’s ears like a pistol report. Wendy stepped closer, and the thick black monster bounced heavily with her steps. Finally it sat within an inch of Ted’s lips. Wendy wrapped her hand around the base and angled the dildo at Ted’s frowning mouth. “I said open your fucking mouth.” The tone was stronger, but the amplitude was still measured. Cautiously, Ted parted his dry lips and opened his mouth, closing his eyes as he did so. He felt the soft black rubber touch his lips. He felt awash with humiliation. He paused there, unable or unwilling to take the next step that he knew lay seconds ahead. Wendy opened her mouth to issue a command when she saw Ted’s eyes pop open and look at her. They blinked once, appearing surprisingly clear and lucid. The she barely noticed Ted’s tongue emerge underneath the dildo, touching the underside of the head. Wendy suppressed a smile.
Ted gave himself to the act, to the humiliation and the punishment. He knew what was at stake, and he knew that simply doing the minimum requirement would not be enough. He visualized his pride and dignity as a pigeon and watched himself release it in to the air, wings fluttering as it rose and disappeared above him. He felt the soft vinyl against his tongue. Ted opened his mouth wide and leaned against the phallus. He was surprised how easily it slid into his mouth. He could see only a few inches of it beyond his nose when he felt the dildo slam abruptly into the back of his throat. Ted wanted to gag but successfully fought it off. He pulled his head back and watched the dildo grow before his eyes as his mouth emptied. He leaned forward again and the dildo slid into his mouth again.
Wendy was astonished at Ted’s sudden enthusiasm for this otherwise debasing act of artificial fellatio. She suddenly felt strong, powerful, and squeezed the thick black cock in her hand. Ted had been sucking more than half the length into his mouth with surprising speed and intensity. He pulled off of it now, bending down to get his face underneath it. He pushed it up with his face and ran his tongue up the length of the shaft from the base to the tip. Wendy almost moaned at the sight of her husband joyfully sucking her rubber cock. Ted returned to sucking the shaft, his breathing quickening as he gave himself more and more to the Sisyphusian duty he now performed.
“You can use your hands, Ted.” He needed no further prompting, and instantly threw his hands onto the monster black phallus that emerged ridiculously from his open mouth. He held it, he caressed it, he even stroked it, sliding his fist, pumping it into his mouth. Wendy stared in amazement, half-expecting the dildo to ejaculate at his deliberate and wanton manipulation. She heard him moaning softly as Ted worked the rubber dick far back into his throat. He even tried to deep-throat it, gagging painfully before Wendy stopped him, worried for his well-being. She saw Ted’s eyes watering, at first from the discomfort of having lodged the dildo in this esophagus, then secondly from the emotionally honest oral servicing of his wife. She looked down at him lovingly as he earnestly stroked and sucked, licked and kissed the once-impersonal plastic sex toy that had now become an emotional extension of Wendy’s sexual being.
Two things happened: Ted’ tears turned into sobs that hampered his breathing, and his jaw became extremely sore from the prolonged effort. Wendy put her hands to his face and gently pushed him back. He gagged again, and finally the long dark shape came free of his mouth, the tip heavy with saliva. Ted sucked in the open air, and sat back on his heels, tears streaming down his cheeks. He sobbed for a moment, and Wendy almost considered ending his penitence right there. But she knew that he needed more, and she needed more. She even suspected that Ted would be disappointed if this was the end, having come so far with courage and humility. Stopping now would be failure and a waste of his good efforts so far.
Ted sat back a minute longer, finally catching his breath, his tears ebbing. He looked again at Wendy. She still stood there, the glistening rubber cock which had once eyed him viciously now hung there as an object of his adoration. Ted couldn’t imagine for a moment what might be next, but Wendy’s lack of movement told him that his relationship with the dildo had not yet ended. Calling on the same humility that had brought him to such great heights of self-acceptance during the oral stage, Ted sat up and leaned forward, resting his hands on the cold tile. He settled on all fours, looking to Wendy like some road-weary horse in need of water and rest. But Ted’s road had not yet ended. She appreciated his acquiescence to this final act.
Wendy walked slowly around Theodore, his thin naked frame stretched across his upright arms and thighs. His slender ass hung unprotected behind him. Wendy stepped carefully behind him, her massive boots clumping heavily on the tile. Ted felt her behind him, the heat radiating from her spectacular blue latex-encased body. She bumped him with the dildo, and he shuddered involuntarily. Finally she situated herself into a squat behind him. Wendy pressed the slick wet head of the dildo to Ted’s small brown anus. It gave slightly, as Ted groaned. She pushed again, and it gave again, but stopped quickly. “You’re too tight, Theodore. Wet yourself.” She pulled back, and Ted spat on his fingers and slowly reached back, wiping the spittle on his anus. “More,” she commanded. He repeated the procedure, noting the slight taste of ass on his fingers the second time. Wendy didn’t think it was wet enough still, so she spat a large volley of saliva, which landed squarely on his puckered butthole. Wendy leaned in again, and set the still-dripping rubber cock to Ted’s ass once again.
Ted winced in pain as Wendy thrust the thick dildo into his tight ass. He was nearly pushed forward, and using his arms as leverage, pushed himself back upright. Wendy continued pushing, working the enormous phallus all the way in. Ted’s rectum seared with pain, and he fought back tears and desires to scream or get away. As his body slowly got used to Wendy’s sudden presence in the deep recesses of his colon, his sphincter began to relax. She moved slowly at first, plying him gently with shallow thrusts. She could tell he was becoming more comfortable as her thrusts continued. She noticed a small amount of bleeding around his anus, but checked her concern, remembering the purpose and ultimate outcome of this profane violation that she was administering to her husband.
Ted took control of his breathing, and he found that by carefully managing his breathing and muscle contractions, Wendy’s intensifying thrusts no longer hurt, or at least they didn’t hurt badly. He found that the highly textured dildo was rubbing aggressively against his prostate, and the sensation was increasingly arousing. Wendy noticed his sudden change in posture and attitude, and her heart flushed with admiration and love for her courageous husband. She stroked him deeper and faster, and after some momentary adjustments, Ted seemed to be enjoying the penetration quite nicely.
The sensation of the rubber cock across Ted’s prostate had turned the emasculating act into one of genuine and profound stimulation. He found himself anticipating his own orgasm without having even touched his own penis the entire night. Wendy pounded into Ted’s ass harder and faster, the base of the dildo pressing happily against her suffocating clit. The smooth hot plastic of the latex suit against her pussy was a strange sensation, and despite the lack of direct stimulation, Wendy discovered herself at the edge of climax. She thrust into Ted harder still, bending the phallus to impact against her swollen clit more directly. She then heard the familiar sounds of Ted approaching orgasm. Wendy was astounded to think that he could cum solely from his presence in his rear; she could clearly see his hands on the floor and knew he wasn’t playing with himself without her permission. She jammed hard one last time, sending herself into a reeling orgasm, biting her lip to stifle the natural sounds, not wanting Ted to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d indirectly brought her there.
Ted felt a mighty trust, and it raked his prostate with such ferocity as to trigger his long-looming climax. He watched in helpless delirium as his cum sprayed directionless across the white floor tiles beneath him. He felt a splash land warmly on his wrist, his eyes rolling back into his head. He had never had an orgasm without something directly on his penis – a vagina, a mouth or a hand – and he felt completely powerless. He looked down at it, the last unmilked dribbles hanging thickly from the swollen tip. He felt genuine surprise when Wendy unexpectedly slipped the dildo from his stretched anus. He felt it contract and experienced a brief but certain sense of emptiness. Wendy came up next to him.
“Theodore, you have to lick up your cum now. You must.” Wendy’s voice was almost regretful. “It’s the last thing you have to do.” Ted sickened at the thought – licking his own salty cum from the kitchen floor. The tile gleamed brightly, appearing clean, but showing the off-white patches beneath him where his semen had landed. Ted nodded, sitting back onto his heels again. His anus felt sore and stretched, but he curiously missed the feeling of Wendy inside of him. Ted lowered his face to the cold tile, and lapped at the nearest patch of his seed.
The cum was salty and warm, with the viscosity of thick glue. Ted ignored the unsettling taste and texture and licked dutifully at the white tile floor. He again put himself fully to the task, knowing he was near the end, and not wanting to let up or disappoint Wendy. She stared in silent fascination as her husband prostrated himself on the cold floor, carefully cleaning up his own cum, attentively getting every drop and dribble. Finally satisfied that he’d not missed a single spot, Ted sat back up. His knees were in agony from his hour on the tile, despite the rather courteous foam padding. Ted’s entire body hurt; his still tender shoulder, his aching jaw, his stretched anus, his throbbing knees, his cold skin. He looked at Wendy with pleading eyes, praying he’d met her satisfaction, praying she’d seen the commitment he’d shown in his efforts to please her.
Wendy regarded her husband. He looked positively miserable, clearly uncomfortable physically. But his eyes were warm, tender, honest. They showed a Theodore who had shed his old life, his old sin and his old freedom, and who had now wrapped himself in unwavering dedication to his true love. She reached down tenderly and touched his cheek. She stroked his cool skin, feeling vindicated for having abused him so thoroughly. She looked down at the large black strap-on dildo that hung strangely from her hips. It was filthy and angry-looking, and she wanted more than anything to be free of it. She stepped back, unbuckled it and let it drop to the floor. The heavy rubber cock flopped with a slap on the tile, and she stepped free and kicked it away. Then Wendy returned to her husband, putting her soft hands on his bony back, comforting him.
“It’s time to go to bed, honey,” she said, almost in a whisper. The commanding cruel violator was gone, and Ted knew that only his wife Wendy remained. He painfully lifted himself from the floor, finding his legs asleep. He could hardly carry his own weight. Wendy supported him and together they stumbled to the stairs to climbed up to their bedroom. As she helped her exhausted husband into bed, she considered that she wouldn’t get rid of the outfit, boots, crop or strap-on dildo anytime soon; perhaps she would need a little penitence down the line.
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