Someone once told me, "the first year of marriage a couple's desire for each other is so strong they wish they could just eat each other up, and the next four you wish you had". I'm not sure that was exactly how our marriage went, but after twenty-one year, let's just say out relationship had cooled down considerably. Our bodies change from the slim lines of youth to the broaden forms of middle age, and our sex life decreased to nearly nonexistent. I turned more and more to fantasy and porn to meet the needs of my body. At times the heat and ideas that found a place in my mind were acted out in bed. My focus turned from her breast and cunt, to her now large shapely ass. From loving caresses and foreplay to nonconsensual fucking. Bondage forced deep throat, and sodomy she received the worst I could imagine. If it fueled my passion, I sought the opportunity to try it out on her.
Nine months before our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary she told me that if our marriage was going to continue my actions would have to change with no more porn, no bondage and especially no more ass fucking.
I had never meant to hurt her, the abuse had just developed over time. After her ultimatum I did a lot of soul searching and discovered that my love for her was more than my sexual perversion.
We rededicated our selves to courtship and renewal of our relationship.
We returned to dating, and sending flowers and cards. The more time we spent talking, the less we spent arguing. Once again laughter and joy returned to our time together, our son said we looked like a couple of teenagers. As laughter increased an amazing thing happened, the spark, or fire are what ever you want to call it returned. Long intimate hours of making love filled our lives again, but deep inside me, perversion still burned.
We planned a week long get away to Miami Florida, followed by a four night cruse to celebrate our new relationship, and the date was set to coincide with our twenty-fifty anniversary.
Our flight arrived a little late. We caught a taxi to the hotel where we dropped out bags and changed to make a reservation in a local restaurant we had attended on our wedding night many years prior. Vanessa was dressed in a small black dress, which despite her added weight did wonders for her figure. Her make up done in a hurry was beautiful to behold, and the shiny black high heals made her ass giggle and twist like it had not in years.
My eyes and hands would not stay off her and we necked and petted in the back of the taxi like two youngsters. As the taxi stopped we ducked our heads and ran hand in hand through the doors into the building. It was only after we had taken a seat that our eyes adjusted to the darkness that we realized that the nice restaurant we had visited before had changed. At tables and secluded booths around the room men, women set in groups of twos, threes or more. The groups were laughing, crying and calling out as they watched the action being staged in the center of the room. What had been a dance floor, now was inhabited by a device that looked like a roman cross, with straps and buckles arranged all over it for holding someone captive. On each side was set tables with a variety of instruments, from whips to giant penis shaped diodes.
As we watched a tall young looking man in an expensive business suit led a blindfolded girl dressed in a robe to the device, by a leash attached to her neck collar. Bringing her to a stop next to the device the man turned and spoke in low tones to the girl who with trembling hands untied the string around her neck that held the robe closed. A low gasp of lust and awe was heard from every throat as the robe slid off her shoulders and down over her body leaving her nude trembling body totally exposed for all to see and lust after. The girl just stood there trembling. As the crowd hooted the man dropped the end of the leash to the floor, and walked slowly over to one of the tables and began picking up one instrument after the other examined it, then replaced it.
After picking up several and laying them aside, his hand closed on what looked like a riding crop about eighteen inches long, with the handle about one inch in diameter. His practice swings through the air made a kind of whistling sound. Approaching the girl he took a couple more practice swings closer and closer to her nude and trembling body. Small trembling cries escaped her lips as she stood waiting.
The whip drew closer and closer to her body. Then lightly, starting on the side of her face he ran the cold leather down her body. Over and over again the leather handle caressed her face, neck, nipples and legs. She just stood there frozen. Then reversing the handle and gripping it with eight inches of the handle exposed he leaned close wrapped his left arm around her neck and shoulder and kissed her lightly on the lips. As their lips meet, with one savage thrust the rounded end was shoved cruelly up between her legs, crushing and tearing her pussy open eight inches of cold dry leather rammed in until his hand stop it from going any deeper. The Girls screamed out rising up as high on her tiptoes as her legs would allow and then doubled over in pain and humiliation the breath knocked out of her body. She only remained on her feet from the support of the man's arm around her shoulder.
The crowd roared and cheered the man as a second, third and forth he pulled out and rammed the whip handle home. As he pulled it out and took aim for a fifth jab, her hands feeble moved to protect her sex. The man jerked her over to the cross and motioned for two big men who were stationed near by to come and assist. She was quickly shackled to the cross.
While Vanessa and I had sat watching the event in shock amazement till this point, Vanessa grabbed for my hand and said, "Let's get out of here!" Jumping to our feet we made for the door past tables where angry and surprised eyes starred at us, and more than a few hands reached out to grab and grope as we rushed by. As we approached the door one of the large men who had helped shackle the girl to the cross suddenly appeared in the exit door. "Leaving so soon? He asks me. The boss does not like it when someone cause a distraction form his show."
Vanessa screamed, "Get out of my way, we're leaving." A handgun appeared out of nowhere to be pressed into her mouth. "You're not much of a Master to let your slave get out of control like that."
Stammering and sputtering, unsure of what to do. Afraid that he would pull the trigger at any minute. I said, "I'm not her master, she's not a slave."
A grin that could only be described as evil slowly slid across his face, "Every one here is either a master or a slave, by your own words let it be unto you." His eyes looked Vanessa up and down, he turned back to me and said, "She was born to be enslaved, and if you're not her master, then so were you."
Pushing the pistol deeper in Vanessa' throat he back us into the center of the floor. Vanessa gagged on the feel and taste of steal that was in her mouth, but was unable to do anything for fear of dying. Tears ran down her cheeks doted the front of her little black dress as we were marched at gunpoint to center stage.
The man with the whip stood, quietly whip in hand as we approached.
Looking Vanessa and I squarely in the eyes he spoke, "Perhaps you did not know what you were getting into when you walked into this place, or maybe you did and just want to share in the fun. Either way is fine with me, but in your own time you will pay for disturbing the entertainment I was performing for my friends and customers. Bring them a couple of chairs here where they can get a close view of my fun, and let them begin to learn what it means to be a master or slave."
