Wicked Wife

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hobrigef
hobrigef
247 Followers

She wanted more.

"You missed his toes, sugar. He has a teeny bit of hair there, doesn't he?"

Her lovely face was flushed with pleasure and excitement. This was as good as being fucked!

"Sorry, gorgeous," grinned her lover.

"Do in between as well, sugar," she instructed.

She was shameless now, very much the complete and utter bitch, revelling in this.

"You got it, babe," said Mike.

"Now flip him, darling, and do his front bits. You know, round his silly little dick. Do him down there for me, baby."

It took Mike a minute or two to undo and turn Simon over, to re-secure him on his back. Simon put up a bit of a fight but, debilitated from the pain and torture of the last few hours, was no match for his powerful, grinning tormentor.

Seeing the poor wretch struggle, clearly terrified, only made the whole thing more enjoyable for Mike and Carla.

"Hey Carla, do you wanna hear him beg for mercy?"

"Yeah, sugar," she grinned. "Take his gag off."

Mike released the gag from Simon's mouth and the evil couple were rewarded with a stream of abject pleading from their sobbing, agonised victim.

"Oh god, please Carla, please Mr Mike ... stop hurting me ... let me go now, please please PLEASE let me go!"

They laughed and kept him at it, savouring their total power.

"Okay that's enough," giggled Carla, finally. "He's starting to annoy me. Gag him again, sweetheart, and get that flame going."

"No Carla, please god no. Noooo!" ... but Simon's screams were cut off by the gag and Mike was soon back at work.

"And don't forget his balls, his balls are quite hairy," giggled Carla.

Mike obliged.

"Not so hairy now, sugar, are they?" he grinned.

Carla could hardly speak, she was crying so much with laughter.

"Now his eyebrows, sweetie. Plus those horrible hairs he's got sprouting from his nostrils ... get rid of all that for me, sweetheart."

"No problem, gorgeous," grunted Mike, and he got going again with the lighter.

"So, anywhere else?" he asked, when he'd finished.

"Just say, Carla baby. Your wish is my command."

"Mmm, well maybe do his nipples, sugar, but then let's leave him for a bit. I wanna go fuck," giggled Carla.

She was feeling incredibly sexy and horny.

"But there's no hair there, baby girl."

"I know, darling, but I wanna see you do it. You know, just for a laugh. And do it real slow this time, baby. Make the poor thing almost pass out."

Mike burned Simon's nipples with the lighter and he made it count. He slowly and sadistically roasted them.

Simon screamed and screamed but the leather gag was very effective and the only sounds emitted were faint and muffled and indecipherable. Just a continuous "Ugg Ugg Ugg."

Carla, wanting a close-up, wanting to wallow in her poor husband's ordeal, went over and crouched by Simon, looked deep into his eyes as Mike tortured him. His hellish suffering was evident in his expression and Carla, giggling gleefully, drank it in.

"Aw, poor Simon," she cooed softly.

"My poor poor little pooch."

Then they left him there and went upstairs to fool around and fuck.

** ** ** **

It was evening when they woke, Carla first this time. She stretched languorously in the bed, yawned, then spent a while luxuriating in the delicious feeling a woman has when she's been expertly and passionately fucked by an attractive virile man, has slept sweetly and woken in his arms.

And darling Mike had gone down on her too, had given her a lovely orgasm with his tongue. Yummy!

Knowing that her poor, tortured husband - battered, bruised, burnt -- remained manacled to the floor in the lounge had made the sex with Mike even better for Carla.

She chuckled softly, thinking about Simon down there. God, she was SUCH an evil bitch!

Feeling horny again all of a sudden, she turned to the sleeping Mike and began gently stroking him. Her soft, sexy fingers explored his chest, his belly, then slid slowly down between his legs.

"Fuck me again, baby," she whispered, feeling his strong, muscular body respond to her rousings.

Mike grunted, still half asleep.

Carla giggled, rolled onto her back, opened her legs.

"I want you, lover," she purred.

She stroked her glistening pussy for him -- she was moaning with desire.

"I want you, big boy. C'mon baby, I'm on heat! I want you right this minute."

Mike, fully awake now and grinning lustily, got the message. He mounted her, cock large and fully erect, and she guided him in.

Afterwards, they showered and got dressed (both in jeans and tee-shirts) and went downstairs.

Simon heard them coming and his heart sank. He was in a dreadful state by now, stretched out in helpless agony on the floor, but still just about conscious.

Wished he wasn't, but he was.

Carla and Mike strolled into the lounge, holding hands and laughing.

"Well what have we here, Carla babe? Is it a fat ugly guy?"

"No, sweetie," said Carla. "I'd say it's more of a fat ugly BALD guy. Yuck!"

"Yeah. Every girl's dream, baby, isn't he?" sniggered Mike.

Simon started to sob through the gag, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. This delighted the jeering couple.

"Aw, the poor thing is crying," giggled Carla.

There followed some good news and some bad news for Simon.

The good news was they took his gag out and set him free (even took the dog collar off).

The bad news was that Carla kicked him in the balls first, kicked him twice, both times full and hard.

"Oh baby, that's gotta hurt!" grinned Mike. "Poor little baldy!"

Poor Simon tried to struggle to his feet but found he couldn't; could only lie doubled up and whimpering in pain on the floor.

"Oh come on, Simon," said Carla, looking down at him. "Don't be such a weed. Look, pooch, there's things to do, I want you up and on your feet double quick!"

Simon did finally stand up. It was painful but he managed it.

"Way to go, turdface," said Mike, clapping sarcastically. "Well done, old fruit."

Then, to Carla's unbridled amusement, he pushed Simon over, sent him crashing once more to the floor.

"Try again, baldy," he sneered.

Simon, hating Mike with every fibre of his being, struggled up for a second time.

Whereupon Mike grinned and lazily but firmly pushed him over again. "Whoops, sorry, dude. Should we go again?"

He kept this cruel game up until the giggling Carla eventually called a halt. Poor Simon had hit the deck a couple of dozen times by then.

"Okay, Mike sweetie, enough. It's fun, I know it is, but I'm getting hungry. It's way past my usual dinner time. Aren't you hungry, baby?"

Mike looked at his watch. "Yeah, babe, guess I am. What are we having?"

"I'll go see in a minute," said Carla.

She smiled sweetly down at her husband. "Are YOU hungry, pooch? You must be."

"Yes, Carla," he mumbled.

It was true. He'd missed dinner on Thursday (Carla hadn't been 100% happy with his housework and no food was his punishment), Friday he'd been too nervous to eat with knowing she was bringing Mike home later, and today he'd obviously had nothing.

In fact, Simon realised, he was famished!

"And thirsty? Are you thirsty as well, poochie?"

Simon nodded. He was. He was extremely thirsty; all he'd drank in the last 24 hours was a glass of piss.

"Well let's all go have dinner in the kitchen then!" announced Carla

"What, me too?" asked Simon.

"Of course you too, poochie!" she laughed. "Go put some clothes on first, though."

Simon laboured up from the floor.

"And not jeans, Simon. Me and Mike might be all casual this evening but I want you to make an effort. Suit jacket, white shirt and tie ... okay?"

"Um, what about trousers?" asked Simon.

"No trousers," said Carla, grinning now. "Naked from the waist down, in fact."

Jeers and laughter from Mike. "Mmm that'll be a cool look, dude, won't it?"

Simon stumbled off upstairs, unhappy about the dress code but consoling himself with at least getting some nourishment. He really was starving hungry and very very thirsty!

A few minutes later Simon came down, attired as Carla had instructed. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Mike and Carla fell about laughing. They erupted.

"Haven't you forgotten something, Simon?" spluttered Carla, giggling uncontrollably

"But, errr Carla, you said no pants," protested Simon, slightly confused.

"Empress Carla," she said.

"You said no pants, Empress Carla."

"Or maybe just 'Empress' will do," she giggled.

"Empress, I thought you said to leave my pants off. You know, naked from the waist down?"

Simon was humiliating himself, he knew this, but the prospect of dinner drove him on.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean barefoot," said Carla. "The Empress didn't mean that. Go put some shoes and socks on, for heaven's sake! Your smart black brogues. You know, the ones you used to wear when you had a job."

"And your bowler hat," she giggled.

Simon lumbered off again towards the stairs, Mike and Carla laughing uproariously.

"And pooch, take a good long look in the mirror before you come back down," she called after him. "Check yourself out and make sure you've got it right this time. Otherwise no dinner for you."

Mike was wetting himself. "Oh baby, you are a 24 carat, class A bitch!"

Upstairs, Simon did as he'd been told and the mirror told an awful tale. What he saw in there was a man shorn of all dignity -- somehow his 'top half city gent, bottom half nude' outfit looked even more absurd with shoes and socks on. But it was the sight of his head, bald now but for the odd tuft of hair, which distressed him the most. The bowler hat covered this, thankfully, but poor Simon nevertheless felt and looked wretched - it was all he could do not to break down and cry.

Carla's promise of something to eat and drink shortly was about the only thing keeping him from utter despair.

The lovers pretty much lost it when Simon returned. Just could not stop laughing. They were bent double.

God, what a fucking sight!

"Oooo, so smart!" cackled Carla, at last trusting herself to speak.

"Yeah babe, you're not kidding," snickered Mike.

"Reckon he could easily pass for a partner at the firm, Carla sugar, don't you?"

"Oh very definitely!" giggled Carla. "That's exactly what he looks like. Bet it's making you feel a bit underdressed, baby, isn't it?

"It is, gorgeous, it sure is. Well dressed, handsome fucker he is."

"So ... dinner time ... shall we?" said Carla, and she took her two men by the hand and led them to the kitchen.

** ** ** **

Mike and Simon sat opposite each other at the (smallish) square kitchen table whilst Carla busied herself around the stove.

"Gee, been a while since I cooked for one man never mind two," she said. "Hope it's gonna be okay!"

"It'll be delicious, baby," said Mike. "Everything you do is delicious."

He grinned across at Simon.

"Isn't that right, dude?"

"Yes, Mr Mike," said Simon.

Carla hadn't fixed dinner for him in ages (she did no domestic work at all these days) but she was a good cook when she put her mind to it. He remembered as much.

"Why thank you, boys!" said Carla, flirtatiously, putting two good-sized T-bones under the grill.

She turned, smiling, to Mike and Simon. "Steak for the hungry men? Plus a nice salad?"

"Great, babe. Can't wait," said Mike.

"Okay for you too, Simon?"

"Oh yes, Carla! Steak would be fine for me," he burbled.

"Who's this 'Carla' person? I'm an Empress, remember?"

"Sorry, Empress. Yes, Empress, steak will be fine for me. Thank you, Empress!"

Carla nodded. "Good. So steak it is. Not for me, though. Think I'll just have the salad."

She resumed preparations, pleasantly conscious of the two men watching her appreciatively. Yes, she knew how hot she looked in her jeans and skimpy tee-shirt.

"A woman has to watch her figure after all."

Carla said this just as she bent to check on the steaks. She bent right down from the waist and thus gave the guys the most mouth-watering view of her ass. It looked unbelievably good in tight jeans, as she was very well aware.

Mike grinned leerily.

"Dude, your wife is one sexy piece. Just look at that ass! Enough to make a grown man cry."

Simon WAS looking at Carla's ass and it was having its usual impact. Despite the fact he'd been viciously kicked in the nether regions very recently he could feel his dick stirring. Looking down, he saw that indeed it was.

Simon started to fret. He was worried that Carla would get annoyed if she noticed, would maybe think twice about feeding him.

Oh god, if only he had some pants on!

Carla pouted and did a flirty little twirl for them, enjoyed how they looked at her, the desire writ large across both their faces.

"Hey, enough of the ogling, you guys. It's steak on the menu, not me!" she giggled.

Mike grinned at her. "How about a beer while we're waiting, gorgeous?"

"Sure, baby," said Carla, opening the fridge.

She grabbed a can of beer, pulled the ring, put it down in front of Mike.

Simon couldn't help but look longingly at it. He was so very thirsty. Well and truly parched.

Carla noticed him staring. "What about you, Simon? There's plenty."

"Please Empress, yes!" he said, nodding vigorously.

"Okay."

Simon swallowed hard and licked his lips in anticipation. God, he was going to murder this beer!

Now? ... or with your dinner?" Carla asked.

"I'd probably prefer it if you waited," she continued, before he could answer.

"I know Mike can handle it but beer might spoil your appetite, I'm thinking."

"With my dinner then, Empress," said Simon, sadly. He could have handled it no problem. Ah well.

Mike tipped the cold beer to his mouth and drank it in one go, some of it splashing on his chin.

The gagging Simon watched enviously. He now felt even more thirsty!

"Ah, that was good!" Mike grunted, wiping his mouth, crushing the empty can and slapping it back down on the table.

"Another one, darling?" asked Carla.

"Yeah babe, thanks."

"How about a glass this time, sweetheart?"

"Sure."

Carla reached high into a cabinet and her flimsy top slid a long way up, revealing a tantalising amount of smooth, lightly tanned torso. She footled around for quite some time up there, finally retrieving a glass.

She poured the beer and brought it over to Mike, leant low and slow across the table as she did so, tee-shirt gaping, and both men got a lingering view of her breasts.

Then she sashayed back across the kitchen, wiggling her ass, Mike and Simon lustily following her every move.

"I do believe your hot, sexy wife is teasing us," grinned Mike.

"Yeah, proper little cockteaser she is, Simes, don't you think? The woman just cannot help herself. And fuck, don't know about you, dude, but I'd say it's working. Got a boner in my pants now."

Simon didn't dare comment. He too had a boner ... very much so ... but the trouble was, his one was free-to-air and uncovered.

Mike, sipping at his second beer, pointed at the empty can from his first.

"D'you wanna put this in the trashcan, dude?" he said to Simon.

"Um, okay, Mr Mike."

Simon picked up the can and trotted across to the bin in the corner.

The sight of him on his feet cracked Mike up.

"Dude, you really do look like Twat Of The Year," he chuckled.

Suit jacket, shirt and tie, butt naked from the waist down, black brogues, bowler hat ... Simon did look absolutely risible

He also still had a stonking hard-on.

"Don't be mean, Mike," said Carla, fighting back laughter.

Simon knew his erection was embarrassingly obvious as he stood there by the bin - his shirt wasn't long enough to provide even a modicum of cover. He scampered back to his seat as quick as he could, hoping for the best.

No dice - it'd been noticed.

"Hey, looks like old Simon's all turned on by you too, Carla babe. Glad it's not just me."

Carla giggled. "Mmm, so I just saw!"

"Your fault, gorgeous," grinned Mike. "Your fault for being just about the sexiest piece of ass this side of the sun."

"Thank you, kind sir," said Carla, coquettishly.

"Course, if you weren't running round the place in those skin-tight jeans and that itsy bitsy tee-shirt maybe you wouldn't be driving us two red-blooded males quite so fucking crazy, baby, would you? Wouldn't be giving me and Simon here boners when we're meant to be thinking about dinner."

"I'm right, dude, aren't I?" continued Mike. "She's a fucking tease, isn't she, your missus?"

"Aren't I, Simon?" he repeated, demanding an answer.

"Um, I suppose so, Mr Mike," mumbled Simon, warily.

"What, dude? You suppose what?"

Simon stayed silent.

"I said what, dude?" Mike persisted. "What exactly is it that you suppose?"

"That Carla ... the Empress, I mean ... can be a bit of a tease," Simon blurted.

"Thank you, dude! Shit, like blood from a stone sometimes."

"Hear that, Carla babe?" Mike grinned. "Your husband here concurs with me. He thinks you're a grade 1 cockteaser as well. What do you say to that, babe?"

Carla considered for a moment.

"What do I say to that? I'll tell you what I say to it ... I say that I'm none too pleased to hear that sort of thing from my husband. Don't mind YOU calling me a cocktease, being my lover and all, but it's not nice from him, no not nice at all."

"It's not, sugar, is it?" agreed Mike. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

Carla's expression was enigmatic. "As punishment, do you mean?"

"Yeah babe, to punish him for his dirty mouth."

Simon sat there feeling mortified. What he feared above all else was she'd decide to retract his dinner. God, he was hungry, so very hungry, and the steaks must be nearly ready; he didn't think he could bear it if Carla now said he wasn't getting any.

The punishment Carla decided upon therefore came as something of a relief.

"Well darling, I don't want to spoil the three of us having dinner, but maybe gag him for a few minutes? ... you know, just while I finish up here. Least then he won't be able to repeat it."

"You got it, babe," said Mike and he went off to the lounge, came back with the thick leather gag.

"Sorry dude, Empress's orders," he said, brandishing the device at Simon.

"S'okay, Mr Mike," said Simon.

"Oh, and dude, while we're still talking ... something else I'm sorry about. That business with the lighter earlier. Maybe I got a bit carried away."

"Sure, Mr Mike."

"So is that okay too?"

"Um, yes, Mr Mike."

It wasn't 'okay' with Simon, far from it, but he had to admit Mr Mike had been extremely careful and dextrous for the most part. The burns, although they hurt a great deal, both then and now, were of the sort which would heal up in a few weeks. It could have been a lot worse, he knew this.

Apart from that last bit with the nipples. That had been indescribably grim and he didn't think they would EVER heal! Maybe that's what Mr Mike meant with getting 'carried away' but Simon didn't want to ask.

"Good boy," grinned Mike. "I'll stop feeling bad about it then."

The gag went on.

About ten minutes and dinner was ready.

"Food's up, boys!" announced Carla. "Simon, can you lay the table please?"

Simon got up and did so -- three knives, three forks, salt, pepper, French mustard for the steak, dressing for the salad.

The task had him standing for a moment or two next to Carla as she dished out the food; two plates with steak and salad, one with just salad.

It looked and smelt delicious!

"Is this enough for you, Simon?" asked Carla, picking out one of the very substantial steak and salads, showing it to him.

Simon nodded like a crazy man. She was holding the plate of food right up under his nose and he could feel himself salivating into the gag. God, he couldn't wait to get the damn thing off and tuck in!

He almost sprinted back to finish what he was doing. The salad dressing was the last thing -- he got it from the fridge, plopped it down in the centre of the table, and sat in his place opposite Mike (who'd been absently flicking through a newspaper for the last few minutes).

hobrigef
hobrigef
247 Followers