tagErotic CouplingsPreacher's Wife is a Slut Ch. 2

Preacher's Wife is a Slut Ch. 2

byoliver©

I closed the door to he bathroom and leaned against the wall trying to get my strength back. What was I even doing here? I was a decent respectable woman admired for my virtue and here I was in the home of a total stranger being sexually used by him. I was naked and my body felt sore and abused.

The weird part was, I never felt more alive in my life. I did not even know his name, but I submitted myself to his wonton desire. I had been tied up humiliated, and used by him for his own pleasure. It was completely degrading and I loved every minute, even the pain. It was hanging over the toilet; I recognized it from my husband’s Office, it was a degree “Master of Divinity”.

My God this devil who had dominated and degraded me was a Pastor. I guessed the fact that his degree hung over the toilet was probably significant. I would not be likely to find him at our church on Sunday. Peering closer, I read the name ‘Lance MacMasters’. I stumbled back and almost fell. That was my name, or at least my married name.

I could hear him in the kitchen; he was singing or at least humming as he cooked. “Go take a shower,” he ordered with a smile, and a slap my bottom. It was light and playful slap. I loved how the mood could change. He was stern, hard and cruel one minute and the next, he was gentle and playful. The whole experience confused and excited me. I did not know how to deal with it and it frightened me and invigorated me. I turned on the shower and got under the warm soothing spray.

My bottom stung as the water hit my spanked cheeks; it had been a long time since I had felt the sting of a good spanking. My father had done it to me up until I was fifteen. My mother had found more effective punishment and it had been discontinued to my regret. I had only been twelve when I discovered the incredible warm tingly feeling it gave me between my legs the wetness and desire, and later in my room in the dark, my fingers would go down and rub hard until I would explode my voice muffled in my pillow. I found out later it was wrong to touch myself like that and tried to stop, and mostly I did.

But sometimes I would awake, my fingers rubbing, my mind reeling from the lust. Always there was a large man, dominating me, using me, and humiliating me. I washed my body thinking of how today I had not had any responsibility all I had to do was submit to him.

He called me his "fucking slut". I had trouble even thinking those words let alone saying them and yet when I heard them they lit me on fire, fueled my lust. I wanted to be degraded, used and humiliated it made me feel alive, vibrant, and whole.

“I’m his fucking slut, I’m his fucking slut,” I said that to myself as I washed my pussy rubbing it my eyes closed the bar of soap not being enough. I thought of what he said about putting his cock up my tight little bum hole. The thought revolted and scared me and yet I wanted it. I put my finger back there touching my tight sphincter. I use the soap to lubricate and began to force my finger inside my tight forbidden hole. One finger was not enough I tried to slide two.

It felt so wicked; I pumped myself hard driving my fingers back and forth. I imagined it was his hard cock forcing it’s way into me. It hurt but he did not care and I loved it. My eyes were closed and it was the cool draft that alerted me to him. He had pulled back the shower curtain and stood there with a Video Camera. “Don’t stop Slut, fuck yourself hard, take three finger stretch your tight little asshole”.

I could not stop; I was lost in my lust I wanted to show him what a slut I was. His eyes on my ass, I was bent over one hand on the cool tiles the other plunging deep into my tight hole. I heard him put the camera down on the counter and turn off the water. His hands were on my cheeks pulling them apart, giving me greater access allowing my fingers to get deeper.

Lance stepped into the shower behind me. I knew what was coming and took both my hands and place them on the wall my little ass up in the air waiting for his thick bulbous head to push into me. He started with my pussy but it wasn’t enough, “Please, in my ass, please fuck me in the ass like a dirty fucking slut.” I could not believe what I was saying; I had never used language like that.

I was out of control the lust and desire that had built up over all those years of boring '3 minute sex' was coming out. I felt so alive so decadent needing to be used and abused by his strong body. The pain was incredible, the sheer size of his member felt like it would split me in half, and my tight ass never having anything so big forced into it. He went slow, pushing at the tight ring, finally getting the large head inside. Working it in and out the head forced even deeper into me, the burning pain replaced by desire and an incredible feeling of wickedness.

I felt his hands, first on my hips and then his fingers reaching around touching my clit, flicking the hard bud. I felt him pull hood away and his large rough fingers rubbed mercilessly over the engorged bud.

I felt the feeling building bringing me closer. I shivered the tingle flowing through my aching body; he pushed harder into me. I heard him groan and felt the head insider my tiny asshole. Harder and faster, her drove into me, lifting me off the ground with his hard shaft. His fingers assaulting my engorged clit without mercy, pushing and pulling, rubbing hard, driving me closer to release.

I thought I might never stop shaking, my body lost in and ocean of pleasure and pain, the feeling overriding every other existence. I was pressed tight to the wall my breasts pushed flat his shaft buried deep inside my aching helpless body. He kept cumming and cumming the liquid seeping out of my ass I felt the juice running down my legs cool on my thighs the.

I felt used and dirty and wanted more but my sore body had no more to give. He had drained my body used and abused me at his will and I knew I would let him do it again, any time he wanted.

“Thank you” I whispered.

He lifted me and gently carried me to his bed. We rested; later we ate, very little was said. I was afraid to break the spell. He owned me completely nothing else mattered only him and the way he made me be. I felt this was only the beginning of a path I had to go down, a desire I had to fulfill.

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