Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 04

Greg paused at this one. Perhaps even he felt that the word didn't really apply to his proclivities. But the boy, while stupid, wasn't a total idiot. "It means...stop..."

Mrs. Taylor thought he could do better. "Not quite, Greg, it also means..."

Greg got the message. "It means...she's...it means I'm...raping her..."

Mrs. Taylor paused and just stroked her fingers up and down his whip cut back. Then, leaning close to his ear again, she whispered, "One last question, Greg...lover boy...when a woman says yes to sex...is she also saying yes to rape? Is she also saying yes to being...sodomized...fucked up her ass...when she's crying out for you to stop?" Admittedly, it was a loaded question.

Greg moved his head side to side and started to cry. Mrs. Taylor let him do this for a full minute before whispering, "I'm waiting..."

"No!" he called out. "She...isn't!"

Mrs. Taylor carried on. "So...when I said yes to sex...invited you here for sex...was I giving you permission...to sodomize me...rape me up my ass...treat me like I was a five dollar crack hooker? Like I was a fuck toy for you to sodomize...?"

Greg was sobbing now. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...please...let me go...I won't tell anyone...I promise..." Mrs. Taylor, having received what she wanted, took the ball gag in one hand and grabbed the boy's swollen testicles with the other.

As Greg opened his mouth to scream, the ball was pushed in. "Much better," oozed Mrs. Taylor. "Your voice is so...irritating."

Having set the stage, Mrs. Taylor pondered the script. Somehow the stage didn't seem quite right. Greg's body was not positioned as well as it could be. His knees weren't far enough forward. His ass wasn't in quite the perfect position for some serious fun. 'Can't have that,' she thought.

Going to the dresser she took out the necessary accoutrements. A collar went around Greg's neck and a chain shortened the distance from his wrists to his neck. "There," Mrs. Taylor said. "Now they're nicely out of the way." Then she ran a chain from the front of the collar down to both of the thigh restraints and pulled, forcing his knees up to his abdomen. She stepped back and admired the newly positioned Greg. "Much, much better," she murmured. With a last pull around his waist, he was brought closer to the bottom of the bed and Mrs. Taylor's strap-on. She set her stance, gave the cushion a bit of a move and then rechecked her stance. 'Yes,' she thought. 'This will do nicely.'

There was still cognac left in the bottle and Mrs. Taylor poured a generous dram. Looking down at her strap-on, she undid it and stepped out, also removing her panties. She thought for a moment and removed the leather corset as well. 'What the heck,' she thought and took everything off. 'A shower is in order,' she thought, taking her cognac with her into the bathroom. Once there, she reconsidered. 'A bath sounds better.'

Mrs. Taylor was luxuriating in the almost hot, scented water. The resort supplied a decent brand of bath oil and she made a note to leave a generous tip for housekeeping. After all, they were going to have a mess to deal with in the morning.

As weekends go, this had been a good one so far. She wondered how ken Rowling and his wife Kate were doing. Were they fucking like rabbits or were they already lawyered up? It made no difference to her. And Michelle? How was she doing? Was she recovered from the embarrassment of being found by housekeeping...in flagrante delicto? Was she a little more hesitant about accepting invitations to 'girl's night out' parties? And that girl at the shop. Was it only hours ago that she had been left, restrained and over penetrated, robbed and generally abused? She was possibly still there, unfound and anally decorated. Mrs. Taylor smiled at the thought.

The cognac added to the warmth of the bath. She stretched like a cat and turned over onto her tummy, a hand under her self at her vulva. Another hand reached and found her ass, working apart her cheeks and probing. She lay like that, masturbating and letting her self get worked up for the last session with Greg. When she was close she stopped. She lay there and felt her sexual tension climb with her unfulfilled orgasm. Starting again, she got even closer before stopping. She was making her self angry. After a third going at her self and a third let down, she was ready for Greg. The heat of her body was now matched by the cold in her heart.

Stepping out of the bath, she didn't use a towel, just going out into the bedroom and beyond into the front room. She put the white dressing gown on over her wet body and tied the sash. Her body was no longer for Greg to admire. It was his to fear.

Mrs. Taylor pulled a front room chair into the bedroom, placing it at the wall opposite the bed. Taking her cognac, she sat and contemplated the scene. The closest part of Greg was his ass, thrust out by his fully bent hips. His welted, bloodied asshole was the centre of Mrs. Taylor's world. It was a dark, dark world. She sipped the cognac, not even tasting it.

'This...this piece of shit in front of me...had the gall...the unmitigated gall...to...fuck...my...ass...without...my...permission...' Mrs. Taylor happily let her fury build. "This...this...adolescent...this anal rapist wannabe...this teenaged kid...had put his filthy cock...in...my...ass!...when I said 'no'...'

The fact that she wanted the kid to do just that was immaterial. It was the thought...his thought...that mattered.

Mrs. Taylor got up and walked around the bed, one way and then the other. She wasn't interested in telling her trussed up lover what was going to happen. She was no longer interested in verbal communication at all. Other methods would do. She picked up the whip.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she measured the distance. Taking half a step back, she paused. Staring at the boy's left ass cheek she took a full swing, intending to cut. She did. His skin burst open and he went into a state of convulsion. Pausing only long enough to admire the first result, she did the same to his right ass cheek. If the second blow caused Greg any more pain, it was lost in his restrained body convulsions.

Not satisfied, Mrs. Taylor stepped to one side of the bed. Down came the whip, perpendicular to the first blow and expertly centred. A cross of open skin appeared on that cheek, soon followed by another on the second cheek. Mrs. Taylor tossed aside the whip, wiping her mouth. Her own saliva had dribbled. Then she ran a hand over her sweat moistened face and reached for her cognac. Again, she tasted nothing.

From her supply of toys, now instruments of sexual torture, she took up a slim anal vibrator. The boy's blood crusted penis was flaccid. 'Time to do something about that,' she mused.

She got down into her 'hooker blow-job' pose, feet flat on the floor and her hips and knees fully bent. She gazed at the blood dripping from the fresh, red crosses slashed into his skin. As if in awe of her own work, she slowly leaned forward, her tongue moving out and out. Gently, almost lovingly, she licked up and down, side to side, going over each cut. Then she slowly looked down to find the anal toy in her vagina, put there by an unknowing hand.

She gazed at it as if she had never seen it before. She slowly closed her eyes and felt someone else's hand turn it on and guide it to her deepest pleasure spot. That someone else's hand worked magic and she was swaying. She felt someone else's climax building and she smiled in happiness for her. She watched detached as someone else started to roll her hips. She smiled knowingly as someone else let out a soft, quiet sigh of satisfaction.

She looked at the strange toy in her hand, glistening with someone else's orgasmic fluid. She put it to her open mouth and closed over it, slowly taking it away as she sucked. She smiled and thought the woman's taste to be nectar. The toy was still buzzing.

She opened her eyes to see a bloodied ass inches away. Carefully she wiped the toy on her evening gown. No man was good enough to have this precious fluid go into his ass. She was vaguely aware that the blood in front of her would do nicely to help ease in the toy. With no more than a gentle pressure, it went in. She was aware of a body shaking spasm in front of her.

As if in another world, Mrs. Taylor slid the toy in the right depth and angled it to put the tip to the prostate of the man in front of her. She was aware that all she wanted to do was put some rigidity into the miserably flaccid piece of penis that drooped down from the base of the scrotum in her face. She absentmindedly took the scrotum in her hand and felt genuinely big balls.

'This guy's got a pair,' she mused. "Dick looks kind of funny, though." She studied it. 'It's cut up a bit,' she thought to herself. 'Pity. With balls this big, maybe he could fuck for hours.' She watched as the penis stated to twitch.

'Taking too long,' she complained to herself and turned up the vibrator. Then she settled to watch it come back to life. 'Wow...really cut up,' she mused. As the sorry penis was filling, she could see the cuts open and re-bleed. The male body in front of her was thrashing but getting nowhere. She stood up and admired the restraint job. Getting back down, she thought, 'Someone knows what they're doing.'

Mrs. Taylor liked this game. She had no delusions about having a split personality. She just enjoyed pretending she did. "Or maybe I do,' she pondered, giving it consideration. 'No matter...whatever...'

She shook her head as if she was just waking up. Surveying the scene, she smiled. Greg's torn penis was just about there. It was now pointing up as it should. 'Looks kind of ugly this way,' Mrs. Taylor thought. She got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a glass of warm water and a wet facecloth again.

Gently she rinsed off the crusted blood and fresher clots. Greg was trying to say something against the ball in his mouth. Mrs. Taylor wasn't interested in what that might be. She did the wash one more time. The fully erect penis was now free of old blood. Only fresh blood now marred its ribbon cut surface. Mrs. Taylor took it in her hand and pulled it back until it was almost ready to snap. The shaft was bleeding freely but the head was so far untouched.

She put it in her mouth, carefully not getting any bleeding shaft between her lips. She wasn't concerned about nasty viruses, judging that Greg's sexual exploits up until now had only involved the local girls, who were unlikely to be a concern. The toy was still buzzing away in his ass and she was only interested if he could actually come under the conditions. She doubted it but it was an opportunity to experiment in the limits of human sexuality. Carefully using the anal toy, she tried to give him something resembling a blow job. After a minute, she decided to change tactics. Out came the toy.

She rolled Greg over onto his back. Taking off her dressing gown, she reached for a condom. Pausing to think, she took two. Ignoring Greg's pain twisted face, she washed as much fresh blood off the boy's cut up cock and put on a condom, followed by the second. Then she straddled him, facing away and eased her self down onto the double wrapped dick. Then she took the still buzzing toy and went to work.

'All in the name of science,' she mused as she started to screw Greg while toying his ass. She was aware that with his feet pulled up to his knees, her weight on him would be very painful. 'All the more interesting experiment,' she thought and went at giving Greg the 'reverse cowboy' of his life.

Expertly managing to keep the maximally buzzing toy against his prostate, Mrs. Taylor fucked the kid like she was serious. She was serious, in a different sort of way. For what seemed like ten minutes, Mrs. Taylor could sense no indication that Greg was feeling anything but pain. 'Of course it could be rage and pain...so much the better,' she thought.

Another change in tactics was in order.

Leaving the toy buzzing away, Mrs. Taylor turned around to face Greg. The situation was certainly getting her turned on and she fed on that. She screwed the kid slowly, rocking on him and massaging her breasts. His eyes were torn between looking away and looking at the sight. Over several minutes his desire to see the show won out. "Good,' thought Mrs. Taylor.

She picked it up a little and alternated a hand between her breasts and her clitoris. Every now and then she leaned back, thrusting out her breasts and reaching to the anal toy. Even in this position she had no trouble working the boy's prostate. After what seemed like about twenty minutes of fucking, Greg seemed to be coming around. Mrs. Taylor could tell. Even doing everything she had been doing to the kid, she could tell. She leaned back and stayed that way. One hand held the vibrating toy to his male G and the other was rhythmically massaging his cock base. All the while she was still screwing on him. 'Damn, I'm good!' she thought.

She put on a final flourish of facial ecstasy, rolling on him as if she was about to have a volcanic orgasm. She was gasping and panting, her head rolling. It was working. Her porn star routine continued and she felt him trying to buck up into her. His bloodied and torn cock, fully erect was being thrust up into her vagina. Mrs. Taylor was mildly surprised. She squeezed down with her pelvic muscles and her hand, relaxed and then did it again and again.

Greg's face was a picture. He was trying to keep air going in and out while trying to come. Mrs. Taylor gave him a long and languid look, the look of a woman about to accept a real man's load...the look of sexual acceptance and expectation. She wasn't sure what would happen first; his climax or his asphyxiation. He came first.

It was strange. He was trying to buck up into her like he was trying to go through her vagina and into her guts. With the restraints, it was almost comical. Even with two condoms separating her vagina from his pee hole, she felt the gushes. Three, then four...and he was trying to get air. His face was a dark, dusky red from lack of oxygen. Mrs. Taylor's face took on a bemused expression, "Well I'll be damned," she said out loud and got off Greg.

She stood at the foot of the bed and putting her arms up high, stretched and stretched. Then she casually inspected her body. There was fresh blood on her inner thighs. She wiped it clean with the cloth and splashed the last of the water to rinse. She stood there watching the toy, still buzzing away. With a wistful smile she took it out and turned it off. Taking it into the bathroom, she put it in the sink for later cleaning. Looking at her self in the mirror, she frowned. Her hair was a mess and her skin glistened with sweat. 'Oh well,' she thought, 'time to clean up comes after the job is finished.' Mrs. Taylor wasn't finished. Her night was really just starting.

She walked back into the bedroom. Greg was as he was left. His double wrapped penis was now wilted. The cum and the blood made an interesting colour as she pulled off the condoms, tossing them on the bed. Then she rolled Greg back onto his stomach, adjusted the cushion and pulled him back until he was again positioned for his final event. She stepped back into the strap-on but paused to reflect.

"No need to rip him open in one go,' she thought and changed the dildo for one quite slimmer. 'Just right for an anal virgin,' was her considered opinion as she tightened the straps around her. Shakespeare came to mind.

"To lube or not to lube...that is the question...whether 'tis nobler in the ass to suffer the slings and dildos of outrageous fortune...or to take up arms...against an outraged woman...and by opposing...get my ass split into shreds...to die...to sleep...no more..."

Mrs. Taylor liked to be philosophical about these things.

"Won't be a whole lot of opposing going on around here, Greg...in fact...there won't be a whole lot of sleeping, either." Mrs. Taylor moved in and with one vicious thrust, the dildo was in Greg's ass.

His body went tight, every muscle straining against the bonds that held him. Mrs. Taylor gazed down and drank in the sight of her strap-on dildo buried up to its very base. Old and new blood was on her thighs. Greg's old and new blood. She sighed, held still and then did to him what he had so happily done to her. 'With interest,' she mused. 'Never forget the interest.'

Mrs. Taylor thrust into the boy's ass with wild abandon. Even with their considerable weight difference, he was being bounced forward by the force of her fucking, only to be pulled back and bounced again. She kept her arms around his waist, holding tight while trying to bounce him out of her grasp. Feeling only cold rage, she kept it up until she was gasping for air and had to let go.

She stood there, her chest heaving and held her hands to her hips, letting the rage subside. She watched as Greg also tried to get air, relishing the fact that he was having to work a lot harder at it. She moved to his side and took his hair in a hand, twisting his face to her. Getting close, she whispered, "Greg, this is rape...I'm raping your ass...I'm fucking you, Greg...fucking you right up your...rosy...red...ass...how do you like it so far? Having fun with this, Greg...lover boy? Like being raped up your ass?"

Mrs. Taylor straightened up and did her cat stretch thing again. Turning her back on Greg, she found her glass of cognac and refilled it, taking a long, slow sip. This time it tasted like victory. This time it tasted like revenge...warm, sweet and exquisitely delicious.

Knowing the thickness of Greg's erect cock, she chose a second dildo that closely matched it. She was humming to herself as she switched over her rape tool. Then she stood poised behind her target, sipping cognac and waiting for the right moment. It came soon. She leaned down and carefully put the glass on the floor. Then she wrapped an arm around the boy's waist and held the dildo to its intended orifice. "Brace yourself, lover boy..." and she thrust.

'I'm slipping,' she thought as she felt the dildo only slowly penetrate. "Or perhaps I'm just tired...not my usual self. After all, I have been busy...'

Greg was again a solid body of muscle contraction. "Thank god for ball gags," Mrs. Taylor said out loud. "I'd hate to have to listen to you complaining."

The dildo was now deep up the boy's ass and she reconsidered lube. 'Why not give the kid a little break,' she thought and slowly backed out. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at his flaccid penis, the penis that had been, uninvited, so recently in her own ass. She knelt down and pulled it back to her mouth. She took the head in and bit down hard.

Greg went ballistic, if that could be applied. He was shaking, arching and doing anything he could to get away from the teeth chewing down on his penis. There was nothing he could do and Mrs. Taylor almost felt an instant orgasm, knowing what going through the boy's tortured mind.

She didn't want to chew the head right off...just make him think she did. After what was likely only ten seconds, she spat out his mangled cock head and stood up. Quickly she leaned down to take hold of the cognac. Spitting all the blood and saliva out of her mouth, she took a swig and used it as mouthwash, swishing it around and finally spitting it at the boy's ass. She just grinned as she watched some of it drip down onto his penis. Greg was acting like his penis was being dipped in molten steel.

Mrs. Taylor took a sip of her liquor, savoured it and swallowed slowly. Then she put her hand to the boy's macerated penis, letting her hand collect a pool of blood and used it to wet the dildo. "Ahhh..." she said as she spotted the ill used condoms. She added some of their contents to Greg's blood and again, thrust her rape tool into the now bleeding ass. "That feel a little better, lover boy?"