Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. The characters within it are completely fictional and any resemblance to any real-world figures is completely coincidental. The Pittsburgh accent is not fictional and in fact is a linguistic marvel, but my attempts to recreate it may just as well be fictional.
Names and descriptions of real-world people, places, and things have been altered to fit this story. Sultry demon brides do not actually find their way into the greater Pittsburgh area. There is nothing particularly magical about Fayette County, Pennsylvania, and any work suggesting or describing anything to the contrary is inherently fictional. Hell may also be fictional; the author is disinclined to research this firsthand and also discourages others from doing so. Labor unions are also increasingly fictional.
If you are still reading, I salute you and welcome you to the dark, twisted, and seldom-shared corners of my mind.
Chapter 1: Honey, I'm Home
It was damn near nine on Friday night when I finally got back to Connellsville and pulled into the drive of my little bungalow on the banks of the Youghiogheny. Thirty-three hours and twenty-five minutes of overtime this week, by the clock. Well, I'd be feeling a bit better about that a week from now, come payday, but I was damn sure hoping for something else to make me feel better right the hell now.
And speaking of Hell, there she was, opening the door not two seconds before I'd have put my own hand on the knob. Reached up and grabbed her tit instead. Way better use of the hand motion anyway.
"Mmm-mmm. Welcome home, Master." Joanne snapped a hand out towards the switch and the porch light went dark, letting her wrap her slender, shadowy tail around me in the shadows under the thick awning and draw me inside. Had to be careful just in case my nebshit neighbor across the street was watching, but not too careful, because damn it was good to be home in her arms.
She'd gone all out tonight. Pastel pink fit and flare maternity dress with watermelons and cherries, black seamed stockings, glossy black heels with that vintage look. Red-orange hair up in a bombshell vintage do to match, curled and stacked so it mostly covered up her horns but not entirely. A little bit of extra hellfire in her eyes. Two candles burned in iron candlesticks on the little table in our modest eat-in kitchen, and there was a cast iron skillet with a macaroni and cheese casserole cooling on the range. A bottle of wine from a local Fayette County winery was chilling in a Yeti rambler on the table, which had been decked out with a pink and white gingham tablecloth.
"Like it, Master?" She asked.
"Damn straight I do, doll baby."
"So where you wanna start?"
I grinned. "Since y'ask. Dessert."
"Dess ... ooh!"
Without further ado, I had spun her around, and was now fastening thick iron manacles around her wrists, and her tail as well for good measure, just before it widened into its spadelike tip—I'd forged a smaller manacle attached near the center of the two larger ones. Being a master metalworker has its perks, even if this was a little extra labor of love—or lust—beyond an honest day's work with the rest of my crew from Plumbers & Pipefitters Local 666. I kept this set in a cabinet right by the front entrance, along with a few other fun little items to help get the evenings going. It had been more than a week since we'd had a proper welcome-home fuck right here in the kitchen, and it was way past time to correct that. Especially because it was gonna get harder once the little guy arrived.
One more order of business in the ramp-up to the main event, though. Joanne was a little bit of a screamer, and her screams could disturb the dead.
No, seriously. That ain't metaphorical. Learned it the hard way the first time.
Nothing a man couldn't fix with a little metalworking skill, a machine shop, and a can-do attitude, though. And I'd left one of my better creations for infernal wifely noise management in the cabinet by the door. I reached for it now, since I'd just got done getting the three manacles fastened nice and tight. The collar, titanium anodized with a bronze finish, went on first, just to anchor the rest of the contraption around her mouth and jaw. Then the ring gag of the same material, anchored to the collar in the back. Finally the training dildo, rubber mounted inside a plate of the same anodized titanium, attached with a small set of levers that angled out to the side and then angled back down to a small cup that fit snugly under her chin. I lined up everything and then slid the dildo into her mouth, where it went halfway to the back. The ring gag itself was large, an inch and three quarters wide, but not the absolute largest that could fit in her mouth. However, if she began to talk or scream or struggle, the levers would engage and drive the dildo right up to the back of her mouth.
And Joanne Bailey McCready, poor thing, had never much been able to help herself when it came to the talking, screaming, and struggling.
"Da ... urgh! Ma ... uglh!" She moaned as soon as the piece was in place.
See what I mean?
I reached around her from behind, grabbed a double handful of her tits through the fit and flare dress, and marched her like this over to the laid-out kitchen table. Slowly, though, so that even bound like this, she could walk in those heels like men always seeing their girl walk in heels. Not to mention that her hands had nothing to do along the way but tease at my cock through my dungarees, and that was a fine use of time on any Friday evening. Or any other damn alone time we could get.
"That's more like it," I said. Then I lifted up on her bound arms to bend her forward at the waist. Her head came to rest on the table, her tits short of the edge. I now reached my other hand up beneath her dress. No gutchies on my little doll baby tonight. Nothing down there but wetness and heat. "And that's even more like it," I said, as she knew I'd discovered what I'd hoped to find. And what she no doubt hoped I'd find, too, whether this soon after I came home or not. I gave her stocking suspender strap a playful snap.
"Ooh ... urghmmm ugh."
I unbuckled my belt and dropped my dungarees and Duluth Trading gutchies. A week without this plus my wife finally just the way I like her meant my dick was harder than any metal I'd ever worked with, and I work with titanium. I got her dress and goddamn petticoat—love what they do to her figure but not how they get in the way of what I like to do to her figure—up and out of the way. Then I got properly set up behind her and rammed myself home.
Joanne's head came off the table for a brief moment, her horns glinting in the ruddy candlelight as her hair bounced and swayed, revealing a little more of them for a moment. A wild, primal moan burst from her, and a dark wind made the candleflames flutter for the briefest of moments before the moan was cut off by the silicone dildo that tried to deep throat her as her mouth tried to move around the gag. Even that didn't tame her properly right away; it took three more times before she got herself back under control, her head back on the table, mewling and moaning around the titanium-supported dick in her mouth while my own titanium-hard one skewered her from the rear. The candleflames steadied, which was good, because the view of her bent-over backside, from her wild red hair down to the hiked-up hem of her dress and petticoat, was at its best in dim firelight.
"Much better, doll baby," I growled as I began to thrust in a steady but urgent rhythm. "No waking the dead, no waking the neighbors, and no waking the baby." I reached down to caress her belly. There was still a good bit of room left in the maternity dress, but there was no doubt about the bump there, either.
"Oh fhuu
umphuhm
!" She half-screamed, half-gasped, before both halves were cut off again.
"Don't have to," I said, since it was obvious enough what she'd been saying. "I have you for that." I drew my hand away from her belly, out and under the hem of her dress down there, and up to her clit. I teased it, just a little. It wasn't going to take much. "And you are really," I thrusted, "goddamn," again, "fucking," again, "good at it!"
I emptied myself into her at the same moment that she came, and her pussy clamped down on my dick like it was all she had to hold onto to avoid falling off a cliff. She writhed and struggled with impressive strength for being bent over like this, her legs being supported only by four-inch heels and her arms bound behind her, and her throat again relentlessly assaulted by a titanium-reinforced deep throat training harness determine to get her into line. Of course, the sheer thrill of that only made me drive into her harder and longer, and in fact, even when it was clear she was coming down from the heights, I was still harder than by any rights I should've been. Still, as I slid out of her, I was much more content than I had been fifteen minutes ago.
"There. See whatah mean?"
"Ehh Huhr." She was able to make those sounds without attempting to move her lips or chin, and had quite a bit of practice by now mouthing
yes, Sir
