Cuckquean Ch 10

Driving was a fresh agony, the plug in my ass driven deeper as I sat. The image of things tearing deep inside kept flashing into my mind.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice that you had been snooping?" she asked in that weird, almost conversational way.

"Mmmpgffffff," I said, the Pear of Anguish making any articulation impossible.

She giggled. "You need to work on your diction," she said, but left it at that.

Back at the house, David had reruns of

Justified

on the television as we walked in.

"Go stand in the corner," Lori said, and I did.

"David," she said, sitting next to him and kissing him in a purely domestic scene, "You need to do something about your wife."

"Huh?" he said, looking at her and then looking up at me, his eyes widening a little when he saw the chrome thing hanging out of my mouth.

"She had a simple job to do," she said, "Do some light housecleaning," (and I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling at that phrase), "and she betrayed my trust by snooping into things that don't concern her."

"What?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

"Goddam it," she said, showing the first anger with him I had seen, "Pay attention. Your wife got into my fucking special toybox and played with my stuff."

"Huh?" he said again.

"Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ," she said, her voice rising, "Girl, get the fuck over here and get out of those fucking clothes."

I went, the front of my dress sodden now with my drool and snot, and started on the buttons.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked, pointing at my mouth.

"That is pain," she said, and her giggle sounded almost like a little girl, "Wanna see how it works?"

"I don't," he started but she stood quickly, reached up, caught my hair with her left hand and the T-handle of the Pear with her right. She pulled me down so I was bent, my face only a few inches from David's.

"It works like this," she said and gave the handle a little twist, making me scream through my nose. I was afraid she was going to do what she had called "unhinging" my jaws. I could picture tendons or ligaments or something tearing.

"STOP!" he said.

She giggled again, keeping her hand on the handle but not twisting any farther.

"She likes things in her mouth," she said, "This would just make it easy."

"Jesus Christ, Lori," he said, "Enough!"

She looked genuinely puzzled and a little hurt.

"Spoilsport," she said.

David came to me and brushed the hair off of my face.

"You know how to make this all stop," he said.

I shook my head in negation but stopped, quickly, the movement of the heavy steel thing in my mouth hurting me.

He kissed my forehead and turned to Lori.

"Get that thing out of her mouth," he said, the first assertiveness I had heard from him when he was dealing with her.

She pouted quite prettily.

"Come on, Baby," she said, molding her body to his and doing the palms to the cheeks thing, "Just a couple of more turns and that pretty mouth of hers will always be available."

"Get that thing out of her mouth," he said again, "and then I'll do whatever you want."

"Oh, all right," she said, still pouting.

I expected her to give the Pear at least one more tightening twist just out of meanness but she didn't. She just closed the thing down and then pulled it out.

And my bowels got hot and watery with my fear when I realized I could NOT close my mouth.

She giggled and said, "Don't worry, Martha, it's a temporary problem. You've just been a little hyperextended. Give it time. You should be able to close your mouth by tomorrow."

She stepped back and there was that grin, the one that scared me.

"Now get out of those fucking clothes," she said, "You still need to be punished for sticking your nose in where it don't belong."

I started undressing, still worried and trying to close my mouth very aware of the drool running down my chin.

And through my worry and pain and humiliation I realized that on some level I don't claim to understand, I was enjoying the attention.

My fingers were trembling and I had trouble with the buttons but managed to get the dress off. Then I did the double-jointed thing, got my bra unhooked and tits out before I engaged in the struggle with elastic and whalebone that was my girdle. Ultimately I stood naked before them.

My husband was smiling. No, let me correct that.

My husband was grinning and he crooked his finger, beckoning me. I went to him, head up as it had to be with the posture collar threatening the soft, tender skin under my chin. I kept trying to close my mouth to ease the pressure from the sharp little spike

David's fingers went to the rings pulling my nipples down, and he flipped them, the movement inside the fresh holes hurting a little but also very sensual.

"Will these interfere with her milk?" he asked Lori.

"Huh?" Lori said, "I don't know. Let's see," and she grabbed my left nipple ring, pulled me to her, forcing me to bend a little at the waist, and then started working my areola and nipple.

She giggled and said, "Evidently not."

I felt that sensation only a woman can know as my milk ducts stretched a tiny bit and my milk started to flow.

"Now," she said, suddenly all business and standing.

She reached out and entwined her fingers in my hair, pulling my head back sharply, almost painfully.

"I'm picturing rings here," and she touched my septum, that cartilage that divides the nostrils, "here," and she touched my lips, "and here," and she put her finger inside my mouth and touched my tongue.

She pushed, holding me at arm's length now, and twisted her fingers in my hair, turning my face toward David.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He was grinning now.

"A big, heavy one here," he said, touching my septum, "So we can lead her by a rope."

Lori giggled and I wondered if I didn't hear a little insanity there. "Oh HELL yes," she said.

"But, before you get TOO distracted," she said, doing the two hands on his arm thing with David, showing her possession of him, "There's still the little matter of punishment. She WAS a bad girl."

And there it was again. They were talking about me as if I wasn't there and on some level I liked it.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked and I thought I heard a little chuckle in his voice.

She opened her toy box, rummaged around, and brought out a rolled-up leather strap, like a two-inch wide belt with no buckle.

"This is for her ass," she said, and I KNOW I heard a little giggle in her voice, "A dozen strokes should remind her she was a bad girl."

And there it was, low in my belly, a sudden surge of that pressure of womanneed.

She went back into her box and pulled out something I had seen when I was looking through the box at her apartment.

"And this is for her pussy," she said, "Just because I love the sound a woman makes when this is used properly."

It was a spurtle. If you don't know that word, you can Google it. It was a kind of wooden spatula, the blade part about eight inches long and a handle about a foot. The blade was curved slightly, about three inches wide. And as I looked I could picture just how PERFECTLY it would fit against the shape of my pussy.

That little ball of womanneed pressure exploded. I could feel my body go through the stages of arousal that usually took several minutes for David to give me or me to achieve when I masturbated. I could feel myself suddenly wet, my love honey, my natural lubricant was leaking, I could feel the tops of my thighs hot and wet and slick.

"Have you ever strapped her ass before?" Lori asked, and her voice was breathy and excited.

"No," he said, "We've done some spanking as sort of spicy foreplay," he went on, "but never any real punishment."

She giggled again and I thought she was slipping beyond just a little crazy and I remembered, very clearly, her talking about her sadistic streak.

"Oh, baby," she said, almost cooing now, her hands lightly rubbing his arms, "You are in for SUCH a treat."

Something in her voice had me scared, no, had me terrified. I thought I heard true insanity there. But that didn't stop my body's pure sexual desire from continuing to build.

"How?" he asked, and she giggled.

She assumed a pose, her chin cupped in the web between her thumb and forefinger, posing, leaving no doubt that she was thinking deeply.

"Come on," she said and started for the door, David following and me trailing.

"Wait," she said, holding up her hand dramatically, theatrically I thought.

She went back to the pile of my clothes, bent, and that was another pose, showing off her ass, and picked up my panties from the floor. She balled them in her hand, looked, and disappeared into the walk-in closet before coming out with a pair of David's boxers.

"Come along, children," she said, leading the way into the front room.

I was trailing and by then so goddam excited my thighs slid across each other from my natural lubricants.

Lori crooked her finger, beckoning me, and I went. She pointed to the back of the couch first, and said, "Hands here," touching the hard frame across the back of the couch.

I put my hands where she had pointed, forcing me to bend slightly at the waist.

"No," she said, "that won't work. Stand up."

I stood and watched as she moved around the front room.

"Come," she said and I went.

"Hands here," she said, pointing to the edge of the coffee table.

I bent to comply, bending almost 90 degrees at the waist.

"Feet apart," she said, making me yelp as she kicked the inside of my ankle bones lightly.

I moved my feet apart.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh yeah," she said.

"What the fuck?" David asked and Lori giggled.

"Oh, shit, I forgot about that," she said. "You did too, didn't you?" she asked, patting my ass.

"Ah oo ii ahs air," I said, trying to say, "I knew it was there," but my jaw still not working properly.

And the sudden wave of fresh humiliation hit me as I realized that I was bent over, my legs spread, my hands on the coffee table, as my husband and his girlfriend inspected my asshole, stretched so much by her inflatable buttplug.

"It's another toy," she said, "and I'm pretty sure the girl," and I noticed that she carefully did not use my name, "likes it."

She gave the plug a wiggle, making me squirm, "Don't you, girl."

"Ah oan ahn," I said, trying for, "I don't mind." And I realized I didn't. The stretching of my anal sphincter muscle no longer hurt and there WAS that wonderfully full feeling.

"Just a minute," she said and left, skipping like a girl, heading down the hall.

"Martha," he said, leaning close to my ear but not, I noticed, releasing me from the awkward position, "Are you okay?

"Essss," I managed, still unable to make the sounds for clear speech.

Lori was back in a minute or so with the squeeze bulb that would inflate the buttplug, and its black hose.

She was giggling as she said, "Watch, and learn, David."

I felt a little twitch as she hooked the hose to the plug and then a sudden pressure as she squeezed the bulb three times quickly. I didn't scream but I did groan.

"Wanna see how big it can go?" she asked, giggling and I thought I definitely heard some insanity now.

"Oooo," I said, unable to make the Alveolar Nasal "n" sound.

Her fingers were in my hair suddenly, twisting and hurting.

"Shut the fuck up, girl," she said, "If I want your opinion I'll tell you what to say."

I groaned.

"Now," she said, conversational again, talking to David, "If you have this valve this way," I couldn't see what she was doing, "Then it pumps up," and there was more pressure, pain again now, as she squeezed the bulb three more times.

I groaned.

"If you do this though," and I heard a little hissing sound, "It deflates.

I felt relief as the pressure on my anus eased.

"You try it," she said.

I heard the bulb being squeezed and the pressure was building again.

"Wow," he said.

"Easy," Lori said, "Be careful or things will start tearing. She's pretty stretched out now."

I heard the soft hiss and the pressure started easing.

"See how, when it's all the way down here it starts bleeding off air inside," she said.

"Oh," he said, "Yeah."

And it hit me, God help me, how much I was enjoying the way they talked about me as if I was just a piece of meat to be experimented on.

"You don't," she said, giggling, "have to let it completely deflate to pull it out."

"Oh?" he said.

"Yeah, watch," she said and I felt the pressure inside of my rectum change, move down.

She was giggling now.

"Ready to see something you never thought you would?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

The pressure built more and I started wondering if something would tear.

"Eeeeeuuuuuhhh," I cried as the plug reached its biggest point and suddenly popped out, giving me relief.

"See the way she stays open?" Lori said, almost clinical now.

"Yes," he said, and I could picture his eyes wide, staring, fascinated.

"Go ahead, Honey," she said, giggling, "Put your hand in there. It's quite a sight."

I felt a little pressure and the word "fisting" from my occasional peeks into pornography popped into my mind. His hand was inside me and his fingers were playing, probing, feeling, and I damn near came. I tried to squeeze on his wrist but the muscles were too stretched to work properly.

She was giggling now, not a pleasant sound. The madness was there, but I wasn't scared. Well, not scared too much anyway.

"Find the top of her rectum, Baby," she was saying, her voice low and persuasive now, "And you can get your hand up, all the way into her bowels."

I felt his fingers, touching the hard muscular wall of my rectal vault, seeking, and then finding that final opening into my colon.

When his finger penetrated I felt my orgasm approaching and when he pushed that little bit more, his hand in my bowels, I exploded.

Lori was laughing, "Well look at that," as I came in waves.

David was extending his fingers, finding the incredibly sensitive walls of my colon, my large intestine, where my body pulled the last of the nutrients from the food I ate, and I was writhing and cumming.

"If you release your grip," Lori whispered in my ear, bringing me back to reality, "I'll double the punishment to 24."

I nodded, dug my fingers into the top of the coffee table, and struggled to concentrate on hanging on as my body kept cumming.

When he started pulling his hand free it was a relief from the intensity of what my body was feeling.

Lori was laughing again.

"Go wash your hands," she said, "I don't want that shit on my belt."

I realized that in this case her use of the word "shit" was literal.

David started toward the bathroom and she called after him, "Hey, if she has Depends or something you'd better bring them too. She'll have plenty of anal leakage tonight."

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked after he was out of sight.

"Lori," I said, happy that my jaw seemed to finally be working again, "I'm overwhelmed. I never imagined anything like this."

"But are you enjoying yourself?" she asked again.

I thought and finally, said, "Yes."

"Keep that thought," she said, "Because it's gonna get mighty uncomfortable in a few minutes."

"I know," I managed a smile, "Thank you."

My thighs and hips were starting to cramp from the awkward position when David returned.

"Okay, David," she said, "Twelve strokes, and then we'll roll her over.

I watched, looking over my shoulder, as she showed him how to wrap the belt around his hand until there was about a foot and a half hanging free.

"Open your mouth," Lori said and I did, not wanting to give her any reason to put that terrible Pear in it again.

She was smiling as she stuffed his boxers into my mouth, pushing until my cheeks bulged and my gag reflex triggered a bit.

"I'm in a good mood, so I'll do the counting," she said, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes, "But remember, if you release your grip the count starts over."

I nodded.

"Okay," Lori said, "She's ready."

I watched, and felt my eyes getting bigger, as he drew back his arm.

The belt struck and I moaned but it wasn't as bad as I feared.

"Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ," Lori yelled, "If you can't do better than that I'll do it myself."

"What?" David asked.

"You're holding back," she almost snarled, "Now STRAP her fucking ass or I will."

After a second she added, "One."

I watched, again, struggling to hold still, trying to clench my ass to protect myself as much as I could, but I couldn't find the muscles to do it properly.

This time my skin was torn off, the bare flesh underneath burned with a propane torch, soaked in alcohol, and salt was rubbed in.

At least that's what it felt like.

I screamed, the boxers in my mouth forcing it out my nose along with a gout of snot that hung in a thick string. My feet were kicking and I was kind of hopping from foot to foot, but I kept my grip on the table.

"That's better," she said, her voice calm now, "Two."

When I tried to inhale thick wad of snot caught in my throat and when I coughed it was forced out my nose again. I inhaled, my body shuddering, tears streaming.

David leaned forward, his mouth close to my ear, and said, "You can stop this."

"What do you mean?" Lori asked.

"I've told her, she can withdraw her consent if she wants to," he said.

She giggled and bent down, her face close to mine.

"She doesn't want to do that," she said and then to me, "Do you, girl?"

I managed to shake my head.

"See," she said, pure triumph in her voice, "She's our good little subbie now, a toy we can play with."

At the eighth stroke, I passed out.

There was no warning at all, things just went black.

I woke, well maybe "came too" is a better term, sometime later, in the bed in the spare bedroom. I groaned as I moved and when I reached back to feel my ass I felt the slick outer coating of the Depends and it all came back to me. Like all women who have given birth, I sometimes leaked when I coughed or sneezed and I wore them, sometimes, when we went out. I knew what I had on.

I felt a pain in my nose and when I reached up to check I learned they had put a ring in it. It was smaller, but much heavier than the rings in my nipples.

I rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed and cried out. That wasn't a good idea at all. My ass felt like it had been flayed.

I managed to stand and walked into the guest bathroom, using it for maybe the tenth time since I lived here. When I pushed the heavy Depends down they were badly stained and I wondered if I would ever be the same back there. I sat and peed, wiped very carefully, and stood to wash my hands.

The face in the mirror was a mess. At least they had taken the posture collar off of me, I guess that had been a kindness.

The ring in my nose was very heavy, about an inch in diameter. It covered that area between my nose and my upper lips, the cutaneous upper lip if you're into nomenclature, and the philtrum, that little groove right under the septum, showed through the circle.

This was no piece of the jewelers' art. This was a slave ring, a ring through the nose, something you'd see on a bull on a ranch.

I liked it.