The Dark Room 9

The room is dimly lit with dark walls that I can barely see. Even if there were enough light, the mask on my face keeps my vision narrow. I'm not meant to see like a normal person. I'm meant to see only the crude shapes and colors of what is happening in the room, and I can see those just fine.

There is a large black ottoman in the center of the room. There is a woman there, naked, her arms stretched over her head, her breasts bulging above her chest, and her legs spread wide around another woman,

The woman kneeling on the floor is taller and thinner than the woman on the ottoman. They both have hair that looks jet black in the dim room. The reclining woman has a gag in her mouth, but I cannot see the face of the kneeling woman as it is buried deep between the first woman's thighs. All I can see of the kneeling woman is her bare pale skin interrupted only by the dark crevices facing me.

The room is warm, for which I am thankful, as other than the mask and the collar around my neck I am naked. With the room warm there is nothing to shrink the erection standing straight out from my body, pointed toward the center of the room, toward the two women huddled there, toward a woman I must remind myself is my wife and a woman I do not recognize from behind.

But I recognize that they are both naked, and I recognize that as warm as the room is, there are warmer places I wish to be.

My eyes focus in on the kneeling woman's ass, her narrow waist widening out to perky cheeks that are swaying back and forth at me, dark shadows briefly dashed by flashes of candlelight sneaking into dark places and showing me my path.

The lying woman -

my wife

, I recall - is panting at what the kneeling woman is doing to her. As hard and hungry as I am for their bodies - I would stick my quivering erection in any warm wet place that was offered to me - my eyes hunger primarily for the stranger's pussy, a pussy that must be wet from the way the light catches it, glimmers in it, a pussy that must be ready to be filled by the way the hips dance it in my direction, a pussy that must be mine but for which I must wait.

The lying woman pants harder, breasts heaving and bouncing as she strains her arms against the ties I cannot see but which I can intuit from the way her body is suddenly stopped whenever she tries to reach for the woman pleasuring her. A shine of drool slips free from the gag in her mouth, running down her cheek, and I log it only as a sign of another warm wet place from which I might feed my hunger.

There's a tug at the collar around my neck. I look to my right and see another woman. She is thin with petite breasts and sweeping hips, clad in black lingerie through the lace of which I can make out pale glimpses of skin that I must stop myself from freeing violently from the thin material. She has long, black, curly hair around an angular Asian face. I know her -

she is family

-

she is my wife's stepsister

- but it does not dissuade me from my thoughts of tackling her to the floor, ripping off the frail lingerie, and finding another option for my brute hunger.

But she holds the leash, and she leads me deeper into the room. I follow her full ass as much as I follow the tugging leash, but when she circles around the kneeling woman she uses the leash to pull me straight on. She stands beyond the lying woman's head and slowly, handful by handful, pulls the leash forward, until I'm standing over the kneeling woman.

I look down, and though the kneeling woman is taller than the lying woman she is not tall - my engorged cock, swollen and ready, seems to stretch halfway up her torso, seems ready to invade her body in ways that could only be pleasurable from one direction. When I fill her I will

fill her,

and her whole body will wrap around me to squeeze pleasure deep into my skin.

The collar tugs again, and I look up to see the master guiding the chain she holds downward. I follow the command, dropping to my knees, and shudder as my cock slips between the kneeling woman's swaying cheeks, its base catching and lifting my whole erection vertically, sliding my whole length down her wet parts until just the head is poking out the top of her dual mounds of feverish flesh.

The leash is loosened just enough for me to lean back, and as I do so the kneeling woman begins to sway her hips again, the full flesh of her cheeks bouncing my erection back and forth between them, brief kisses of wetness landing on my balls and shaft, brief bursts of heat that show that no matter how warm this dim room is, there are much greater depths yet to plumb.

The lying woman is straining her head, arms pulled taut but doing everything she can to look at me. Through the mask I look at her, but cannot make out the look in her eyes. Behind my mask I assume all things are pleasure, and the kneeling woman's head still rising and falling between the lying woman's hips lends evidence to my primal view of my limited world.

The master still holds the leash with one hand while she reaches down and pulls the gag out of the lying woman's mouth with the other. The lying woman, still straining at her bonds, breath gasping with the pleasure I see on her face, has only enough time to shout "No no n—" before the master sits on her lips, though I can hear the lying woman's muffled cry continue for a few more syllables before the sounds are replaced with hungry wet sounds without any sense of civilized language attached to them.

The words seem an odd choice in this den of pleasures, but I eschew any efforts at understanding as the kneeling woman with resolute control of her narrow torso finds her mark and lands her soaking wet lips square on the tip of my erection. She wiggles her hips down to swallow the head of my cock between them.

There will be no understanding.

My hunger can no longer be contained.

The master has not ordered my hands into action, but they move. They lift and my fingers dig deep into the stranger's hips, sinking into her flesh, taking her, taking her, taking her, pulling her to meet my hips as I push them forward, forcing her to take my stone cock, taking her, taking her wet pussy, taking her all the way down against me until my cock is straining and my hips are straining to push bodily into her, shoving flesh aside to make my way deep deep between her hips until there is no more room for me to part her heat and take her. I slip slowly out, her soaking offering sending chills against my throbbing flesh as I am once again exposed to the room that is now

merely

warm. I slip out until only the head of my cock remains inside her, waiting a moment, listening to the moan escaping from between the lying woman's thighs, hearing the needy little pout, and then ramming my way back into her heat without nearly as much preamble as I had first entered her.

After that there is no patience, no pacing, no pause, only the frantic diving push to enter her as deeply and quickly as possible, squeezing myself into her, squeezing her hips and ass with my hands as though I could squeeze her squeezing flesh even more tightly around me. The absurdity of my efforts do not stifle them, my hands clenching tighter as I use my body to send quakes through hers, the stranger's tight flesh not rippling but the flesh of the lying woman's breasts shifting like thick waves as my exertions are transited into her, the stranger's mouth our one link to one another.

But that link is not enough. I relent on the stranger's ass with one hand, leaving a dark red handprint behind as I grip the lying woman's ankle, pulling it closer, putting my lips to her skin, more skin for me to consume, to feed my hunger, to stoke the fire even as my fire consumes us all.

Her ankle is not enough. I lean forward, pushing the stranger down, face to the floor, head against the side of the ottoman, pushing her ass higher up against me as I force my mouth forward onto the lying woman's dripping pussy. I taste her with a hunger that sends her thighs wrapping around my head, ankles locked behind my back, as I bury my face into her, as I bury my cock into the stranger, as, still unsatisfied, I let go of the kneeling woman and reach up to grip the master's hip, reaching around to grip her ass, fingers edging into her crevices as I consume all three women in one fashion or another in that dark, sweltering room.

The master is not pleased, and she pulls the chain around my neck, trying to lift my mouth away from the lying woman, to pull my hand away from her butt, but she has horribly miscalculated her level of control over me.

The stranger is pinned down with my body, my cock inside her a lock that keeps her from wiggling away as I fuck her straight into the side of the ottoman; by the sounds she is making, however, by the wetness engulfing my cock, she has no intention of wiggling away, no desire even to try. She is not pinned by just my body; she is pinned by her own pleasure, unfurled like a giant inside her and holding tight to the reins of her willpower.

The lying woman is pinned down as well, arms still tied, stuck between my mouth on her pussy and the master's pussy on her mouth, going nowhere but closer to another unavoidable orgasm.

The master, however, needs restraining. She is pulling at the chain attached to my neck, but it's not enough to get me to keep both hands from gripping her ass, squeezing her fleshy cheeks as I lock her in place on the lying woman's face, keeping the master from slipping away.

And the master is trying to slip away, trying to stand up and away from the lying woman's face, but she cannot get her legs beneath her right, cannot stabilize herself while I've got control of her hips. She's shouting at me now, but those shouts are confused and tinged with pleasure, because the lying woman is only working harder on the master with her tongue. Whether her efforts are out of good or ill intentions is unclear and irrelevant to all other parties.

One of the women orgasms, but I cannot keep track of which. Another goes. I continue thrusting into the stranger, and licking into the lying woman, and digging my fingers deeper between the master's cheeks and exploring her crevices. No part of me is to be denied, no part of them to be off-limits to me.

The master is no longer the master.

She is my object.

I stand up, unceremoniously toppling the stranger to the floor as I circle the ottoman and grab my new object by the shoulder to bend her over at the hip, keeping her over the lying woman's face but angling her pussy upward just enough for myself. The lying woman can have her clit, and I can feel her licking it still as I push my way into my object's well-prepared slit.

My object looks over her shoulder and shouts at me as I slam my way into her. I only half pay attention to her words. I distantly register, "What the fuck are you doing?" and "Don't you fucking put - oh fuck, stop! Stop!" before I am inside. She cries out wordlessly in shock as my thrust tumbles her face down into the lying woman's pussy.

The stranger is on her feet and rounding the ottoman, also shouting at me. I let go of my object with one hand and take hold of the stranger, spinning her slight frame around even as a flicker of recognition registers in a deep, unacknowledged part of me. I cling her to my side, arm wrapped around her to hold her there while I reach down between her legs and find the wet spot I had only just exited. She wiggles again, but now she is fighting against my grip. As my finger alights on her clit she pauses in her resistance, and I know I have her.

As her struggles slip off, as she slips away, as I slip a finger in, the part of me that recognizes her, the part of me that hides away giving off a voice of reason from an echoing depth, provides a voice whose reason is shockingly aligned with the part of me in control.

I had feared the voice of reason would have told me to stop, and that I would be forced to listen.

But no: the voice of reason uses a hot, angry logic to reinforce what my body is already doing of its own alternately-motivated volition.

The "stranger" is my sister-in-law Kira. More specifically, she's my wife's sister-in-law. My wife had always said that she felt Kira had a special eye for me, would keep that eye on me more than was acceptable at every family function. I had always laughed, though of course I started looking back at her out of curiosity, and eventually I started to see what my wife saw. I saw the looks that her sister-in-law gave me,

my

sister-in-law too by that point, and would let my imagination wander within reason. Kira was an attractive Japanese woman, taller than my wife and curvy for her build, but only just barely; less curvy than my wife to be sure, but with those curves projecting from a slimmer frame.

I would laugh while appreciating the looks, but still having a hard time believing those looks my wife and I both saw.

Because, of course, Kira was married to my wife's stepsister.

But now it's my wife's stepsister Jade in whom I'm shoving my cock, bent forcefully over my wife, bent forcefully over her stepsister's naked body and with her face clenched between my wife's thighs.

My wife, lying pinned beneath her petite Vietnamese stepsister, pinned beneath my former master now made submissive, is laughing as she licks my balls. I understand, of course: my wife's stepsister had gotten into my head somehow, made a mindless beast of me, making me rabid and turning me loose on her wife at the expense of my own.

Her wife, Kira who presses her ass back against my hip as I finger her, moaning as I ravage her wife the way she had, now clearly, desired I ravage her. What deal had she and her wife struck to get me and my wife into that place? What conversations had they held to reach an agreement where my wife's stepsister would drive me beyond the edge of lust so that I could fuck

her

wife?

My wife licks my balls with more zeal than she ever has before. I can feel her alternating between laughing and gasping, and I understand that she laughs at the punishment I'm visiting on Jade even as she gasps at what Jade is doing while pinned against her pussy.

The voice of reason is dying down. It is being swept away by the swelling waves of hormonal pleasure sweeping through me. Nothing can stand in the way of that tide, not when I have my finger in one pussy, my dick in another, and a tongue licking furiously between my legs.

It is too late by the time Jade cums. It is too late when the combination of my cock and my wife's intermittent grazing tongue brings her over the edge, shuddering violently on the ottoman, shuddering against my wife's naked body, shuddering bodily around my cock.

Her wave has crested and crashed, but I'm still sailing across that ocean, and even as she tries to push herself up onto her arms on the ottoman my wife refuses to release her head from between her rabid thighs. My wife is still laughing as she stokes my fires, keeping me driving into her stepsister, obtaining the only type of vengeance immediately available to her.

I squeeze Kira tighter, pulling my fingers out of her and tossing her down on the ottoman beside our respective wives. I am just a moment behind, climbing up onto the ottoman, planting my knees on it and pressing Jade even lower, pressing her tight against my wife's body, digging my cock deeper, wrapping her and her wife in my arms, feeling their bodies writhing beneath me, one wishfully, one angrily, and that part of me that understands how we ended up here is as pleased to hear Jade's shouts of protest as I am. She's trying to pull away, but neither my wife nor I are prepared to let that happen, and even Kira seems to be working against her, slick with sweat in that warm room, limbs wrapping around Jade in what seems an effort at an embrace as she too is swept up in the moment.

Or, I wonder, perhaps this is part of the deal? Or maybe Kira realizes that she has gotten a rotten deal and she too feels a tendency towards vengeance against Jade? Or maybe this has been her plan all along, and I'm a component of some ongoing abusive effort against the woman I'm so voraciously devouring?

But these are thoughts for another voice. All I know, truly know, is that pleasure awaits just over the horizon, and I am not slowing down for anything; because, while Jade is shouting, "No! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please! Stop! I'm sorry! Don't!" my wife is shouting, "Cum in her! Bust in her fucking cunt! Finish in her, babe! Unload your whole big dick inside her!"

And I am, above all, a loyal husband.

I am only through someone else's efforts beyond my understanding cheating on my wife, but if I must cheat - which, in the end, it appears I unavoidably had to - then I will do so at her guidance.

Kira no longer putting up any resistance, I pressed Jade's head down with one hand while I eagerly put my finger's back into Kira's pussy, twisting my fingers back and forth inside her as I shoved my cock into her wife, my own wife still shouting filthy demands from between my legs so loudly I could feel her hot breath encouraging my balls.

Jade is still shouting, "No no no no noooo!" while my wife is still shouting "Yes! Fuck that bitch! Yes! Bust your nut in her fucking cunt!" Kira has no words left, trying to dig her tongue into Jade's mouth, trying to penetrate her wife's mouth through the stream of angry, begging, desperate words flowing out of her. Wordlessly, I feel Kira cum on my fingers, and the wet, squeezing motions, the harried moans contrasting with the frantic pleas is too much. I pushed my full weight onto Jade, crushing her body into my wife's, fingers stuck in Kira, cock pulsing into Jade, and she is crying now, crying and still begging but even through it I can feel her body convulsing around me, because my wife that she fought so hard to dominate is still licking her clit, her wife who was part of the gambit is still kissing her mouth and rubbing her body, and my cock which Jade tried to weaponize is buried deep inside her and sending her over the edge she brought us all to, an edge of her own construction that she can't escape no matter how much she begs. She and I cum together in a wet pile of flesh pulsing to the beat of every one of our raging hearts.

Beneath my mask I catch my breath and wait. Beneath my body, three women - my wife, her stepsister, and her stepsister's wife, a tangle of Asian women enveloped in a twisted family drama that I do not entirely understand and whose details do not matter to me - remain pinned and exhausted beyond any thought of escaping or even starting to disentangle themselves no matter their thoughts on what just happened.

All of us trapped in a web of circumstances, I am the spider, and I wait.

I hold us all in place as long as it takes, until finally I hear Jade cry, "No no no, how are you hard again already!?"

And, with my wife laughing maniacally beneath the two of us, I begin to teach my master her next lesson.