30. How to put your wife to sleep
The first orgasm on Andrea’s tongue is sinful and delicious. The second follows seamlessly and leaves me blissfully satiated. On the third, my clit is oversensitive and pain mixes with pleasure in a climax that shatters me. On the fourth, I’m begging for him to stop.
I’m aware of every little bump in the texture of his tongue, of his wet lips wrapped around my clit and sucking before he licks my lips. My core clenches around nothing because he refuses to give me anything. I feel empty yet bruised, like I need more but can’t stand touch anymore.
Andrea comes up after that fourth orgasm in a row, praising me for taking my punishment so well and kissing my entire body. He doesn’t leave an inch of skin untouched. I feel wholly worshipped. I transcend beyond my body, the sensations overwhelming me, yet I can barely feel anything. His lips are featherlight, but the grip of his hands is firm and branding.
One of the worst parts is that I can’t move my legs. I can’t widen them to ask him to plunge into me, I can’t move up and down his mouth in the rhythm that will relieve me of the pain, I’m at his mercy.
Completely helpless.
Utterly used.
And I’ve never felt so safe.
Andrea picks something up on the nightstand and dangles it in front of me. I feel myself grow wetter at the sight of the cute nipple clamps he chose. They have little golden butterflies on each clamp and a thread of gold joins them together.
“Nod if you want me to play with your pretty tits, sweetheart.”
I’m too eager to obey. Anything to get him off my clit and recuperate.
I should know better.
His head comes down and his tongue darts out to lick my nipples, one after each other. I try to arch my back off the bed, but the restraints hinder my movements. Andrea chuckles and his laugh caresses my skin, making me shiver all over.
“So desperate. So fucking perfect.”
The clamps tighten around my nipples, and I yelp around the gag. This is the dirtiest I’ve ever felt and I fucking love it. I want more, I need more.
Just when the thought enters my head, Andrea’s hand lands on my clit in a sharp slap that has me keening. He follows through with massaging around my clit, never touching it, and my body relaxes again. Until he does it again. And again, and again until I come all over his hand with my head thrown back and my eyes rolling.
“Such a little pain slut. You want me to kiss it better, sweetheart?”
That has my head jumping back up to shake no. Anything for him to stop. Though I still don’t use my safe signal. Fear must be evident on my face, for his is painted with concern.
“I trust you to use your safeword or safe signal if you can’t talk, sweetheart. This is meant to teach you a lesson, not hurt you. I only want to give you pleasure until you pass out from bliss, not from pain. Nod if you understand.”
I do, because I don’t want this to stop. I didn’t know it was possible to come that many times and to hurt that much. Every time I climax, it’s deeper, coming from the very depths of my womb and lasts longer, like anything I’ve known before was just the shallow surface and he’s getting all I have.
I want to give it to him anyway, better let him take it.
“I’m gonna give you a little break, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to fuck those perfect tits for months.”
He climbs on the bed and settles on top of my torso, a knee on each side, and even the coarse hair on his thighs caress my skin in the most sinful way with how sensitive I am, how keyed up for touch I am. The valley between my breasts is waiting for him, but without my hands to push them together, it’s a little too wide, with each falling on one side of my body with gravity.
His cock stands at attention, angry red, the vein underneath throbbing with his unchecked heartbeat. It’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen, and I take my time cataloguing the traditional skull and rose tattoo on his left thigh. His torso is left bare except for a small script at his heart, Il sangue non é acqua, a mirror to his medallion, giving me a perfect view of the V of his abs leading to his cock. I’m not going to come from this but fuck if I don’t enjoy the view.
Andrea lathers himself with lube and presses my breasts together, thrusting in between with ease. His eyes gleam with excitement as he takes hold of the gold chain, lifting my breasts by the nipple clamps. Pain lances there and goes straight to my core. My pussy feels forever empty and I want to yell at him to fuck me already, but I can’t because of the gag in my mouth.
I could easily spit it away, but I don’t, revelling in the loss of self, the loss of control. I have no idea what time it is. Anything beyond the man fucking my tits doesn’t exist. There’s no political game to play, no murder to solve, no feelings to untangle. I’m just a toy for him to play with. A toy with the power to stop everything.
The sudden rush of adrenaline is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. My head starts to swim, my heart rate picks up speed, and my gaze lands on Andrea’s dick. If only I could have it in my mouth. It’s like it’d be the last piece to shut my mind off completely and send me into space.
Andrea reads me like an open book.
“You want to taste your husband’s cock, sweetheart? Of course, you do. Behave and you’ll get a reward.”
He removes the gag from my lips, spit drooling over my chin, and continues to fuck my tits. The head of his cock bounces against my tongue with every thrust, the taste of precum flooding my mouth, and I look up at him, finding his eyes already on me.
He’s not looking at my mouth but deep into my soul, like he wants to take it for himself, and covet it with everything he has. I don’t let my eyes move from his as his rhythm gets erratic, and he comes over my chest and chin and lips.
Now I’m really dirty and I don’t give a shit.
“Lick me clean.”
It’s an order and the last thread that holds me together. He comes up higher on my chest and I open my mouth for him. He grows hard again in no time and fucks my mouth with abandon. Every time he hits the back of my throat, I choke a little, the sounds lewd and obscene in the room that became ours. Yet, he doesn’t let up.
“You can take it,” he says through gritted teeth.
A loud buzz erupts in the room seconds before heavy vibrations make me want to jump off the bed. The blunt head of a wand on my clit feels like a thousand volts charge, and I try to yelp around Andrea’s cock.
“You’ll come before I do. Now, let go. Be a good wife and let go for me.”
My head floats between this moment and the next. Sounds come as if my head was underwater, my eyes tear up with the pain and euphoria battling for domination. I’m both within my body and looking up at myself when I come in waves of rapture.
I’m barely conscious of Andrea shuffling to settle between my thighs. Wand discarded, he thrusts inside me while my pussy continues to flutter erratically.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Choke my cock with that pretty pussy like you’re meant for it.”
Time ceases to exist.
White light fills my vision and I cry out, over and over.
Andrea comes inside me with a deep groan that has my toes curling. He bites my neck and I feel it bone-deep, like he wants to sit himself inside the very essence of my soul.
The first breath after our shared orgasm feels like a rebirth.
“You did so fucking well. So perfect, so sweet. Mia precioza moglie,” Andrea coos, removing the ropes with expert hands before gathering me on his chest and soothing my limp body with soft touches.
I float in and out of full consciousness, aware that I am moving, yet unable to do it on my own. He makes me sit on the toilet and pee, my legs too much like jello to support myself. I’ll be precious about that when I’ll find the strength to care.
He washes my body with a warm cloth that feels heavenly, then tucks me into bed with a simple kiss on my temple. My lids are too heavy to stay open and I just say the words that need to get out of my chest before I fall into oblivion.
“I love you.”