A Burning Passion 1

This story begins immediately from "Fanning the Flame."

It grew ridiculously long, but it serves to set up the grand finale in the next installment. Be warned, it has nothing to do with sex-positive behavior, and little to do with actual BDSM fetishism. I put it in this category because of the sadistic dominance of one character over the others. All characters in this story are psychologically warped.

I think that is enough of a warning.

Part One:

The door was locked. Naked, I found the nearby hidden spare key and got the door open. I made my way in. Mary was curled up on the floor sobbing. I went toward her, reached out to her.

She batted at my reaching hand, stared at me with red-rimmed eyes, hissed at me, "I hate you! Get away from me!" Her face was streaked, blotched, and distorted with emotions of shame, disgust, anger, pain, and fear.

There was no talking with her then. We slept side-by-side, not touching, in the same bed where he'd fucked my ass, and she'd cleaned his cock.

The next morning we cleaned ourselves and the house without speaking. Eventually I was able to broach the subject.

"Mary, I love you."

She knew what I was trying to talk about. "I know, and I love you, but... that... all that... it's so dirty! Beyond naughty. He treats us like things. It's like he's a spoiled kid and we're replaceable toys, not people."

"That's it exactly. But we don't have to let him. We can stop. You can say no."

She began to cry again, "But that lovely big cock! I'm sorry, but I've never been so full, or for so long! I've never felt like he makes me feel. Why can't he just be satisfied to fuck me?"

"He never will. He's a sadistic narcissist. If you tell him on Friday that you've trained your ass to take his cock, he'll demand something else, another level of degradation or humiliation, some new taboo barrier broken."

"How did I become addicted this way? Right now, when I think of that big cock, I want to touch myself. I wouldn't let us do any butt stuff, but now I want to put my finger in there while I play with myself."

Mary had never been this open and direct before. Something, whether it was the physical satisfaction she'd experienced from John's fucking, or the mental humiliation of sucking his cock after it was in my ass, had broken down a barrier of reserve that she'd held up her entire life. I knew myself; she was only in the process of learning herself.

I wanted to say, "Do it! Show me!" I wanted to show her how hard I was hearing her talk that way. I wanted us to sit there watching each other masturbate. Instead I suggested that we could buy a big thick dildo, a toy as thick and long as him that she or I could use on her as a replacement for him. This is something that must be rare in the history of marriage: a husband convincing his wife to replace her cruel lover with a sex toy.

We took a ride that afternoon to a sex shop on the other side of the city. It was easy to find a toy with dimensions not too different from John's. However, we stood in awe for some time gazing at all the other options available. Eventually we bought one called "Black Jack." It was 18" long and double-ended. We thought the extra length would make a nice handle for me to manipulate it with.

In the car on the way home I convinced her to try it out. She demurred at first, because it was "nasty," but later she unwrapped it and pulled her panties down. When I raised an eyebrow, she said, "I can't deny that I like some naughty things." By the time we pulled into the driveway she had nearly half of Black Jack inside herself and had orgasmed twice, while I had a raging hard on.

We rushed into the house. In the bedroom we got into a 69 position and I worked the dildo back into her. With my mouth pressed firmly to the area around her clit, I licked and sucked as I sawed the dildo in and out. Alternating light flicking licks at the tip of her clit with sliding my tongue along the clit-shaft, aggressive sucking with gentle mouthing of her mons, and long deep penetrating strokes of Black Jack aiming upward at her pussy's front wall with short quick pumps and side-to-side swings, I brought her from crescendo to crescendo.

She was so occupied with the pleasure I was giving her that she gave only occasional attention to my cock. For some 45 minutes it stayed at full attention while I gave her my full attention. It was the longest and most satisfying (for her, physically, and me, mentally) lovemaking sessions of our entire marriage.

When she finally said, "Enough, enough! I can't handle any more." I withdrew Black Jack and laid him on the bed. Mary and I lay side by side facing each other. She held my still-erect cock in her hand.

I gazed lovingly at her heaving chest, flushed neck and cheeks, drooping eyes and trembling lips. Eventually she spoke, "What did you do to prepare yourself, your butt I mean, for last night?"

I explained to her about the plugs, the meal plan, the enemas, and the lube.

"Where's all the stuff? Let me see it?" I got up and brought it from the bathroom cabinet. She inspected it all.

"Could you take this," She lifted Black Jack and shook it, "there?"

"Now? I wouldn't want to. I'm still so sore. You didn't see me walking funny?"

"I didn't notice. What about my finger? A little -- what is it? -- prostate massage?"

I eagerly handed her the lube.

She put an endearingly large amount on both hands. Kneeling in front of me, she held the tip of my cock in her mouth and sucked aggressively. Meanwhile she massaged my shaft, balls, taint, and asshole with both hands. Her left hand moved to pump my shaft. Her right forefinger circled my asshole, then slipped in. Then it was back out and circling, then in. Then it was sliding delicately in and out. To the suction on my cock, she added a swirling lick around the head.

I shuddered with the overwhelming pleasurable sensations.

She shift her tongue to sliding across my frenulum. At the same time her finger pressed farther into me. It touched my prostate.

I gasped, "There! That's the spot."

She probed all around and over the area, still sucking vigorously.

My cock pulsed and twitched. My hands went unbidden to her head as I ejaculated rope after rope of long-held cum into her mouth.

Startled, she pulled her head back. A shot from my cock sprayed across her nose and cheek. The next hit her neck and chest.

She continued moving her finger inside me, and cum continued to drizzle from my cock into her cleavage. She giggled a little.

Twenty-five years of the strains of adult married life were temporarily wiped away from her face in that moment. I gazed at her with adoring eyes. I bent to kiss her face, cheeks, nose, mouth. We shared my cum between us. I licked it off her chest and offered it to her lips in a kind of sacrament.

"I love you," I said. "I want you to be happy, and I never want to see you hurt."

"I know," she answered. "I love you too." She paused a long time looking in my face. Then she said, "I never admitted it to myself, before because it is so nasty, but I like to see you get hurt, humiliated and hurt."

Huh?

Her face retained a relaxed serenity as she closed her eyes and fell asleep. It was mid afternoon. She never takes naps. A lot of things were changing. I fell asleep too.

Sunday I was vacuuming, so I didn't hear the doorbell. Eventually the insistent pounding got my attention, and I answered it. He stood on the porch, sweaty and in running shorts again. A Sunday ritual, apparently. "Hi John," I said. I got on my knees on the porch and opened my mouth. A new Sunday ritual, apparently.

He laughed. "You are pathetic, Piss Mop. That's what I like about you. You'd like to drink my piss right here on the porch, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, John." I didn't know what was coming, but I knew what wasn't. There was no way he was going to piss in my mouth now. Like I told Mary, he would always come up with some new humiliation.

He looked into my face. We both knew it. So he didn't drag it out. He turned around and pulled the back of his running shorts down below his buttocks. "Kiss my ass, Piss Mop."

The pale muscular buttocks hovered before my face. I kissed the right one.

"You know that's not what I want," he said. "It's not what you want either. Stick your face into my ass crack. Lick up all the sweat and shit and ass juice in there. Poke your piss mop tongue into my brown hole."

I buried my face between his cheeks, slobbering my way down and back up his ass crack. I found his hole and swabbed it with my tongue. I slid down lower and sucked his balls into my mouth, first one, then the other, washing them with my tongue, while my nose pressed into his anus.

I was jabbing my pointed tongue into him when I heard him say loudly, "Hi Switch!" I leaned back to see what was going on, then shrank down and pushed my face back between his buttocks. He was greeting Susan, the woman who lived down the street. She walked her dog regularly and always offered everyone a friendly greeting. They exchanged a few more words. A significant screen of front yard foliage obscured me from her view, I told myself. Still, I pressed myself close to John, hiding my face deep between his buttocks, my tongue working hard.

A few minutes later he pushed me away. "One of these days, I am going to fuck your throat Piss Mop. Today, I'm saving it for my Pet. Close your eyes and mouth."

I did as he said. I felt the hot spray hit me in the face and smelled the pungent aroma. It splattered and ran down my front. He aimed it into my hair and it ran into my ears. He let it run all over my chest and down to soak my pants at the waistband.

"You cook a nice dinner Friday. Pet and I will provide dessert. Tell Mary I look forward to seeing her -- stretching her asshole open."

"Just don't hurt her," I said.

"What! I'll do whatever I want to her, and to you. Open your mouth."

I did it.

He hawked up a gob of phlegm from his throat and spit it into my mouth. Then he turned and walked away.

I went into the house, took off my clothes, put them in the washing machine and started it, then walked naked to the master bedroom to use the shower in the en suite bath. My cock still jutted firmly forward. The events of the past two weeks had returned some of the vigor of youth to it, I noticed: staying hard longer and pointing up at an angle like it had when I was in my twenties.

Mary was on the bed, also naked. She lay on her back with her knees up. The outer knob of one of the anal training plugs showed in her ass-cleft, and she was working Black Jack in and out of her pussy. She was so absorbed -- very close to an orgasm -- that she started when I walked in.

"John just pissed all over me and spit in my face on the front porch," I told her.

"Spit in your mouth, you mean," She answered. "And you didn't mention the way you licked him, cleaning his sweaty butthole. I watched everything from the window. Susan saw you eating his butt too. I think she liked it. He has a sexy butt, doesn't he?"

She worked Black Jack in and out, using her other hand to circle her clit. Her eyes were on me.

"I'm going to shower and change. I need to finish vacuuming, and hose down the porch," I said.

"Wait! Uh huhuhuhuh," She was very close. "Stay there."

I stayed. John's piss was cold and drying fast on my skin. Mary's eyes were fixed on me, mine on the dildo and her pussy. She reached her climax in a couple minutes, jamming the black rod deep inside and frigging her clit relentlessly while her legs squeezed and flopped. Then she went still and curled onto her side.

My cock had not softened in the least.

She pulled the big dildo from herself. Did I only imagine a squelching noise? Her pussy was definitely sopping wet. "God, I already love this thing," she said, waving it in the air. Then she lobbed it toward me. "Take it in the shower with you and clean it off!" Dismissed, I turned to go. "Don't stick it in your ass in there. When you do that, I want to see it. And don't jack off!"

Part Two:

Mary was behaving differently from how she ever had before, but in a way it was not so different. She had always been decisive and controlling. The difference now was that she had embraced some things she'd previously shunned as yucky. I didn't know where it all was going.

The rest of the week, she never cancelled the Friday night date, and she never talked to me about it. She did continue to use the anal training plugs, but she didn't talk with me about that either. On Wednesday night we had a lovemaking session that included me using Black Jack in her pussy, and her working it into my ass. It was gratifying to both of us.

Friday came. I prepared a light shrimp cocktail appetizer, a nice garden salad, skirt steak sliced across the grain, and fingerling potatoes. Mary had on a diaphanous blouse with a deep plunging neckline, and a short, tight skirt, showing her figure to good advantage.

When the doorbell rang, I was in the kitchen, opening a bottle of vinho verde to serve with the shrimp. Mary went to answer it. I came from the kitchen to see her greet our guests.

"John! So good to see you. Come right in." She gave him a hug, holding and rubbing herself against him. "And this is your little friend?" She turned toward the young lady standing beside him. "Hi, I'm Mary. Welcome."

The young woman was quite slender, very young, blonde, tanned, blue-eyed, red-lipped, thin-nosed, wide-mouthed, high-cheeked. Her hair was in a pony-tail high on the back of her head. Her breasts were just slightly too large for her slim frame, her hips just barely too wide. She wore a thin, form-fitting, low-necked, high-hemmed summer dress and sandals. The material was so thin and the neckline so deep, it was obvious she wore no bra. Equally obvious were some unusual forms pressing at the material there. We would soon learn about those.

John returned her greeting, "Dry Hole, you're nicely dressed." He put his hand on the back of the young woman's neck and pulled her forward with him. "This is Pet. Pet, what do you say to Dry Hole?"

"Hello, Dry Hole," Pet responded dutifully. "Thank you for having me in your house. Would you like to see my tits? John says you'd like to see my tits."

Mary answered, "Perhaps later? I'm sure your breasts are lovely. Wouldn't you two like a glass of wine? We have some shrimp cocktail for an appetizer." She took Pet's hand and led her farther into the living room. Her friendliness and her attempt to behave as if this were a normal social situation showed me she believed she could have some control over the evening.

Everyone ignored me, which was fine.

John walked into the dining area and set down a grocery bag. "Desert," he said. In a few steps he was back in front of Pet. "It's not the tits," he said. "It's her new jewelry." He reached a hand inside the neckline of the dress, stretching the thin material downward. Pet stood very still, hands at her sides, Mary still holding one, as he scooped one of Pet's breasts out.

Perhaps John would be content to hurt and humiliate Pet in front of us. Mary might succeed in having some control or putting herself at the top of John's pecking order, but it would be a delicate dance.

The odd form was revealed to be a nipple clamp, pinched tight, with a dangling adornment. He flicked the pendant with his fingertip. A spasm of pain flittered across Pet's face. She quickly controlled it. He said, "Do you love the jewelry?"

Pet answered quickly, "I love it. Thank you so much."

Mary said, "Such a thoughtful gift. Do they hurt much, Pet?"

"They went numb, but John just hurt me." She quickly turned to him and said, "Which I love."

Mary said, "If they're numb, the circulation is cut off. That's dangerous. We don't want dead flesh and infection in your lovely nipples." She deftly undid the clamp and removed it, letting it rest in the palm of her hand.

Pet bent forward, anguish painting her face, both hands involuntarily grasping at the erect and unadorned nipple. The slight upward curve at the corner of Mary's mouth betrayed her knowledge that the supposedly-solicitous act was initiating pain as the blood returned to the area.

A similar upward curve, the old supercilious smirk, formed at the corner of John's mouth. A conflicting wave of anger giving way to calculation darkened his brow. Mary had taken too much control, she'd gone a step too far. His face calmed and only the smirk remained as he took the clamp from her open palm. "Let's try this on you, Mary. Perhaps you'd enjoy a set of them."

"Oh, I don't think my breasts can enhance them the way Pet's do."

"True," John replied. "Your pathetic, withered dugs are no match for hers. Still, I'm curious how you'll take the clamps." With an abrupt motion, he grasped the neckline of her blouse and ripped it down and sideways, exposing her right breast. Before she could react, he had her nipple pinched painfully between his thumb and forefinger. Deftly, he applied the clamp.

"Ahh!" She yelped. Her hands came up, but she forced them back down, even as he tugged her toward him so she stumbled off-balance.

"Get the other clamp off Pet," he commanded. "I think your flabby overstretched nipple can hold both of them."

Mary's hands shook a little as she pulled Pet's neckline further awry and removed the clamp. "Shall I put it on myself?" She asked.

"I'll do it. Stand still." He slapped her breast lightly several times, watching the clamp's pendant swing and bounce as the breast flesh grew pink. Then he squeezed the entire breast with one hand cupped under it and pressing in and up. With his other hand he began to tighten the second clamp.

Mary's face now reflected the same pain that Pet's showed.

I broke my silence. "Don't hurt her!"

John's head came around. He had pretty much forgotten I was there.

Mary said, "It doesn't hurt. Pour John some wine, and Pet too."

Meanwhile, in two steps John stood before me. With a short, efficient stroke, he punched me directly where my cock lay across the front of my balls. I dropped to the floor.

John, calm now, said, "Yes, pour the wine, Piss Mop."

The appetizer course, and the salad course verged on being a normal dinner for two couples, except that John would not allow Pet to adjust her dress. Her neckline scooped her breasts up, pushing them together and outward. Occasionally he would reach over and squeeze one of them hard enough to make her wince, or pinch her nipple, or slap one breast and watch it jiggle. Mary sat with her head high, but her blouse was torn, one breast exposed, the nipple clamped painfully. John also reached to her and flicked with his finger at the pendants dangling from the clamps.

When I went to the kitchen to sear the steak and plate it with the potatoes, I offered a different wine or some other drink.

John said, "We know what you'd like to drink, Piss Mop. Pet, why don't you fill Piss Mop's glass for him?"

"What? What can I get you, Piss Mop?"

He slapped her face this time. "Stupid slut, Its name is Piss Mop. It drinks piss. Get a glass," he grabbed one from the table, "and piss in it."

"Johnny, I can't..."

He slapped her again. "Yes, you can."

"It's so," she shuddered.

Mary spoke up, "Yucky."

Pet nodded in agreement. John slapped her, harder.

"Okay!" She hiked her dress up and slid forward on her chair. "What if I spill?'

John said, "Piss Mop, what if Pet spills piss on the floor?"

I said, "I will lick it off the floor."

She filled it. We watched. Her mons was totally smooth, beyond shaved, perhaps waxed. It had the word PET tattooed on it in large gothic script. Of course she spilled some. She set the glass on the table.

I thanked her and crawled on the floor to lick at the puddles of her urine.

When I was done, Mary called me yucky and sent me to clean my hands and mouth in the bathroom before I returned to the kitchen.