A Sex Toy's Revenge

Here is my most recent story for Literotica. It was one of those rare occasions in which every scene presented itself to me before I even started writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated.

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Look, you don't need to tell me my marriage is abusive. I know it better than anyone! But here's the thing. I've stayed because I love the bastard. And yes, I know how cliché that sounds.

Oh, and here's the other thing -- he caught me cheating a few months ago, and he never lets me forget it. I was stupid and impulsive, and now he has this thing to hold over my head forever, it seems. Yeah, we could get divorced, and some days I'd really like to, but he says if we do, he's going drag my name through the mud and take me for everything he can. And without him, I have nothing, really.

See, he's a successful business man, and I haven't had to work outside the home since we got married three years ago. I guess you'd say I'm a trophy wife, except it sounds egotistical when I say it. Whatever the case, without him I'd be pretty much destitute. You can't live on looks, and I have no family to help me get back on my feet, no friends in high places. So, when he caught me cheating, he decided that I could become his toy as well as his wife, or I could hit the road.

So, I became his toy. He's always had a leaning toward BDSM, but I always drew the line at some handcuffs. Now, he says he owns me, and he can do what he wants.

I have a confession to make. Most of the time I really like it.

There are times, though, when he goes too far. I've read about the Dominant/submissive lifestyle a little bit, and everything I've come across says there is supposed to be an agreement between the two, and the sub really has a good degree of power because she can call off the Dom if things get too intense. Most people seem to have a safe word to use. Well, we don't. When I bring up the subject, Kurt just asks me if I'm ready for that divorce. It's become a taunt. "Oh, you ready for that divorce, are you?"

Thankfully, Kurt isn't physically vicious. I mean, he does whip me and spank me sometimes, but he never loses control and never really injures me. He won't stop when I want him to, but he never breaks the skin. Or bones. Again, I have to confess that a certain amount of pain really turns me on. So I put up with it when he goes on longer than I want.

What he lacks in physical cruelty, though, he makes up for in emotional cruelty. He showed hints of it before I cheated, but they just seemed like slip-ups caused by pressure at work, and he always apologized. Now, though, he seems to take more pleasure in humiliating me than in having actual sex with me. Well, he does still like sex, too, but he really gets off when he can shame me.

For the most part, I've tried to regard these last few months as a learning experience, as they say. Some of the things, I didn't really WANT to learn, but that's how it goes, right?

I've learned to like it when he ties me in a painful strappado and throatfucks me until I'm gagging and drooling. Don't ask me why, but my pussy starts to get wet at the first bite of the ropes.

I've learned not to hate it when he fucks me up the ass while I'm strung up there, helpless, and then throatfucks me 'til he shoots his cum in my face.

I've learned to be OK with him coming home from work and expecting me to crawl up to him, naked, and lick his shoes, telling him his little whore is so happy to see him.

I've learning to enjoy the way it makes his cock grow hard when he makes me kneel with my hands behind my back and he whips my breasts until they are red and tender, and then drags me up by my hair and fucks me hard against the wall.

I've learned to love it when he ties me up and uses the Hitachi wand on my poor wet pussy, making me beg him to let me cum, but then stopping before I get off and leaving me there to whimper in anticipation. I love it even more when he uses it until I orgasm over and over, unable to get away, and the vibration becomes a burning agony, but I cum again anyway.

All these humiliations and more I've come to live with. He locks up my clothes and takes the key with him, leaving me naked all day, expecting me to cook for him and clean for him, knowing I can go nowhere without clothes. Upon command, he expects me to masturbate for him, suck him off, or bend over and let him fuck me as his mood strikes.

Like I said -- honestly, I rather like most of these things. There is something kind of exciting about being a sex toy. I mean, people love toys, right? Granted, I wouldn't want it to go on forever, but nothing ever does. And so, I lived that way without much complaint for months. Kurt still let me get dressed up now and then, and took me to dinner and everything. For the most part he treated me OK in public. But that started to change a few weeks ago. He said nothing completely over the top when we were in public, but he started treating me rudely, as I was insignificant, even in front of other people.

Then, about two weeks ago, he did something I most definitely was not OK with.

He got home from work at the usual time and we had dinner as always, but he seemed keyed up, fidgeting with his spaghetti and twirling it around with his fork more than eating it. As he sometimes does when he's feeling particularly cruel, he put my dinner in a bowl and put it on the floor by his chair, making me eat with my hands behind my back. Of course, it's impossible to eat spaghetti with no hands and not get it all over yourself. When I finished, I could feel sauce all over my face and in my hair. As if it weren't bad enough to be made to eat like a dog, he then derided me for making a mess. He made me bend over his lap, and he spanked me, hard. He made me spread my legs so every time he hit my ass, he also hit my tender vulva. When his arm was tired and my poor behind and pussy were stinging like fire, he made me stand up again.

"Go clean yourself up, you slovenly slut. Get showered and get back here. You have ten minutes, and you'd better not be late!"

I couldn't tell from his voice if he was angry or just demonstrating his power over me. I was feeling a little sensitive, and wanted to keep him from getting any more upset, so I hurried into the bathroom and washed up.

When I came out of the bathroom, Kurt was on the couch watching the news channel. He checked his watch to make sure I wasn't late, and then motioned for me to sit beside him without a word. We sat watching the TV for a little while. Neither of us spoke, but there was a tense feeling of expectation in the air.

Soon, the doorbell rang, and in trooped a dozen of his friends from the club. I was stark naked, of course, and started to head for the bedroom to hide out, but Kurt ordered me to stay put.

I found myself shivering as he made me get everyone drinks and serve them as they found seats around the big living room. I could feel all their eyes on me, and I was so ashamed. These were people we know and see out around town.

"Kurt," I began, not knowing exactly what to say, "this isn't OK." My voice was quivering and I could taste the tears welling up. "I, I don't want them to see me. This isn't part of the game."

He laughed, a short derisive bark, and sneered, "Game!? This isn't a game, honey. You are mine, to do with as I wish. Tonight, I wish for you to entertain my friends."

My stomach dropped, not quite sure what he meant by "entertain."

"Oh no, Kurt, baby, please..." I looked to the men for support, eyes pleading, but they just looked like hungry jackals perched on the edges of their seats. They were ready to eat me.

Kurt just laughed that ugly laugh again, and stood up, unzipping his fly. "Come here, babe, and show the boys what a good little slut you are."

His cock was already hard, and he struggled to get it free of his fly. He grabbed my throat and shoved me hard down onto my knees, and stuffed his shaft in my mouth, grabbing my hair and fucking my face roughly. I was already crying, and that made me drool even more than usual, and for some reason the warm drops of spittle dripping onto my breasts embarrassed me more than anything.

After a few minutes of this, he took his dick out of my mouth and shoved my face down against the floor, moving around behind me. He hiked my ass way up in the air, and I knew what was coming next.

"Please, Kurt," I begged wretchedly, "not in front of them. Please..." But I already knew it was hopeless.

He spread my ass cheeks and I felt him work some lube into my anus with his fingers. Reveling in his little show of power, he stuck his fingers in my mouth, barking "Lick them clean!" Sobbing harder, I did what he asked, and then he proceeded to assfuck me, hard.

Under normal conditions I love anal sex, but I was embarrassed and ashamed to be displayed like this. I looked at the men watching, and I cried even harder at the expressions I saw on their faces. I was humiliated and mortified to see a couple of them had their cocks out, slowly stroking them.

"Do you want to taste your ass, you little slut?" he asked me as he pumped harder and harder into me.

"No, Kurt. Please." I could scarcely get the words out, choking on the shame.

"Wrong answer, bitch!" he gritted in a low, dangerous-sounding voice. He slapped my butt really, really hard, and I cried out. "Now you are gonna have to beg for it."

"No, Kurt, I don't want to..."

SMACK!

"Nooooooo..." my voice trailed off into another sob.

SMACK!

He paddled my ass harder than ever, and shoved himself into me hard enough to slide me across the polished hardwood floor.

"Beg." His voice was cold as ice.

"Please," I began.

"Please, what?" he mocked.

I had started to ask him again to stop, to not make me do this in front of his friends. But I knew it would only make him hit me again. We have no safe word. He was going to make me do whatever he wanted, and his friends were of no help to me. They were on his side...

I choked back another sob, and managed to gasp, "Please let me taste my ass."

I cried even harder, and I could feel the sexual arousal of the jackals growing by the minute, feeding on my shame. Cruel bastards.

"Louder. I couldn't hear you." He had stopped fucking me, and his voice was just above a whisper. It sounded more menacing than ever in the suddenly still room.

"Please, Kurt. Let me taste my ass." My face burned and my heart hurt, and a sense of total resignation came over me.

He pulled me to my knees again, kneeling in front of him. In one of his subtle displays of power, he held his hard cock in front of my face, waiting expectantly, but making no motion to put it in my mouth. He was going to make me be the one to make the move, as if I were the one who was depraved.

I swallowed the lump of revulsion and disgust in my throat and took him in my mouth. It really gets him off to force me to do something so nasty and taboo, and his cock was literally straining and thrumming in my mouth like it would explode. He has done this to me so many times over the past months I should have been used to it, but it still caused my heart to race. Part of my disgust was just because of the act itself, but some of the revulsion was reserved for myself -- beneath my abhorrence, it really excited me, a lot, and I was crestfallen to realize part of me really is a decadent slut.

Kurt stood like an arrogant statue, unmoving, back arched and fingers locked together behind his head, thrusting his hips out. He looked down me as I sucked him, not saying a word. He seemed excited by his friends watching, enjoying the power play. I don't think I've ever felt his cock any harder, and I could feel my own heat growing in spite of (or maybe because of) the shame of having to service him like this. My fingers wanted to stray to my wet pussy and awakening clit, but I knew Kurt would stop me. So I focused on his cock.

It didn't really take long before I could start to taste his precum. He was careful not to give anything away with his expression, but I could feel tremors coursing through his body, and his legs began to shake almost imperceptibly. I reached up to stroke his cock as I sucked, but that finally caused him to break his silence.

"No hands." That was all he said.

I put my hands behind my back, partly because it removed the temptation, but also because I know he likes the way I look with my shoulders back and my breasts thrust out. He often reaches down and fondles my nipples while I'm going down on him, but he clearly didn't want to give me any pleasure or stimulation now. I used deep, slow strokes, with my mouth open and relaxed, because that usually makes him moan with pleasure and cum pretty quickly. He didn't moan, didn't really give me any warning at all other than the way he held his breath, but soon I felt his hot cum explode in my mouth and his breath burst out in a rush.

"Don't swallow a drop!" he barked, right in the midst of his eruption.

Kurt finished cumming eventually - he seemed to take forever - and milked the last few drops of semen into my mouth. When he pulled his cock out, he slapped me in the face with it several times, and then he ordered me to show his friends. I still held his load in my mouth, and I pleaded with my eyes and shook my head no, but he just said "Now."

I turned to them. They looked more predatory than ever. I knew each one by name, but I had stopped thinking of them as individuals. They were beasts of prey, a pack. Each and every one of them had his cock out of his pants now, and a sliver of fear worked its way through me, knowing my ordeal wasn't over with Kurt's ejaculation. I reluctantly opened my mouth and let them see the copious amount of semen there. They reacted with feverish excitement, jerking harder and muttering base exclamations of lust.

I heard one of them say "Make her swallow it, Kurt!"

Kurt just laughed. "MAKE her swallow it?" he mocked. "Christ, Chelsea's the biggest cumslut I ever fucked. You can't KEEP her from swallowing it. Isn't that right, dear? She eats jizz like a fat chick eats ice cream." It was a typical crude and insensitive Kurt statement. He grabbed my chin and turned me to look at him. "You want to swallow that tasty load, don't you?"

"Mmmm hhmm," I murmured in assent, and it was true, despite the circumstances. I've always been a swallower. Ever since my first boyfriend, when I was very young, I've loved it. The first time I sucked him off, we were on the back deck of his parent's house, with them right inside, and when he came I had no idea what to do with the sudden mouthful of semen. It didn't taste bad, so I just swallowed it. It excited him so much I thought he would die! And of course, that excited me! Thus began a lifelong fondness for cum in my mouth. It sounds stupid, but there is something almost spiritual to me about taking in part of a man and knowing it becomes a part of me. It isn't a debasement, it's a kind of sensual power. Either that, or I'm part cannibal cumslut. I'm OK with this indictment, either way.

I swallowed everything, savoring the taste and indescribable feel of it in my mouth. Moans and groans of lust escaped the circled jackals.

And the jackals scared me. There was no way I was going to let all these bastards fuck me. Or was I? What was I going to do, call 911? Maybe I could have, but somehow I couldn't really see that happening. No, I felt my fate was out of my hands, at least for the night.

I looked at Kurt in trepidation, knowing he was running the show.

"Masturbate for the boys, Chelsea. Show 'em what an insatiable slut you are." He led me on hands and knees to the center of the big room. "Gather 'round, boys!" he said to the guys. "She'd love to have you cum all over her face." His voice dripped cruel sarcasm. "Wouldn't you, dear?"

"No," I answered honestly, and I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice. "No, please don't let them do that, Kurt. I'll masturbate for them, but..."

"You'll do what I say!" he interrupted, and slapped me across the face. "It was rhetorical question, you stupid bitch."

Tears burned my eyes and ran down my face, as much from anger and humiliation as from the hard sting of his slap. I didn't respond any more to his taunt, but went to the task of masturbating so I could get this over with. Strangely enough, my pussy was already soaked when my fingers slid inside, and my clit was engorged and tingling. I moaned as the men gathered around me.

Kurt stood back, watching the spectacle.

"Oh, yeah, fellas -- try not to get any in her mouth. She's a greedy little slut, and she likes it way too much." He laughed that sadistic little bark again and watched as these dozen men jostled for position, getting ready to cum on his wife.

I had decided I would try to get myself off, just to spite Kurt, but as turned on as my traitorous body might have been, my brain was having trouble with the feeling of vulnerability in front of all these people. Strange, how the same stimulus can have such opposite affects. I gave it my best effort, though, fingering myself relentlessly. I could smell the musky sent of my own sex along with the scent of all those cocks around me. I fought to shut off my mind and let my body slide into my orgasm.

While I was fighting my inner battle, the jackals were busy coaxing their seed from straining cocks. The first stepped forward shortly, elbowing his way close and jetted his steaming white cream all over my face. I felt the goopy heat on my forehead and my nose, and streamers laying across my lips and chin. I knew better than to open my mouth wide, but I left my lips parted, and moaned at the slight taste of fresh semen on my tongue.

They say men are very visual creatures, and I would agree, because that first jizz on my face started a chain reaction, and five or six more spunked on me in quick succession. I had cum in my hair, up my nose, dripping down onto my breasts, and even had a bit in my mouth despite Kurt's admonition.

I'm not sure if it was the idea of what was happening, or the smell and taste of all that semen, but I quickly overcame any inner qualms and crested on a totally amazing orgasm. I was so wet as I came that I dripped all over the floor, my hand soaked and my hips grinding against my hand. I'm kind of noisy when I cum, and I cried out in pleasure and release. One of the guys came just as I did, and, undeterred by Kurt's admonition, blasted almost his entire load in my mouth as I was gasping in ecstasy. I looked at Kurt, and was so cowed by his expression that I spit it all back out, letting it run down my chin.

The last couple men took quite a bit longer to get off. By the time the last one coated my face with his cum, I was sticky and part of the goo was drying. Somehow I had escaped without getting any in my eyes, but my hair, face, and throat were a sloppy mess. I started to wipe some away, but Kurt stopped me.

"Don't touch it," he ordered. "You'll wear your cumslut mask until I tell you otherwise. Now, sit down and don't move 'til I come back." He added menacingly, "Don't you dare touch a drop of that cum! I'm warning you..." He walked away, and helped the men gather up their things and saw them out.

When they were gone, he made me clean up the living room, still wearing all their spunk. It was starting to itch, but I dared not touch it. I felt kind of hollow and dazed, but not completely numb. My thoughts whirled like grains of sand in a dust devil, but I couldn't grab on to any of them yet.

After all that had gone on that night, what he did last bothered me most. He made me kneel in front of him and wait while he jerked off to a porn flick, and then he added his own contribution to the thick flood of semen on my face. Then he left them room without a word. I sat there and wept quietly, not knowing what to do or what to think.