A Happy Marriage: Aubrey's Epiphany

"Lay down on the bed." In the same tone, again without even looking at me. I complied, breathlessly anticipated whatever was coming next, laying face up, my cock mimicking the false one on the nightstand.

And that was the first time she slapped me.

Right across the face, full swing, palm open, no warning at all. She just jumped onto the bed and let me have it. After the instant of shock wore off, blood rushed to the place where she'd struck me and I felt adrenaline rush through my body. It was exactly like something from one of the BDSM flicks I'd watched, the ones she'd caught me with. Is that what this was about? Was she trying to fulfill what she thought was some fantasy of mine?

Her face dark with anger, she screamed "LAY ON YOUR STOMACH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

My subconscious was working throughout this experience, from the moment I opened the door to our bedroom. It had been nagging me with the conviction that something was wrong, terribly wrong, but I ignored it because of my excitement, the eagerness of my imminent sexual fulfillment. It didn't have anything concrete to offer me anyways, just a general suspicion, and that wasn't enough to break my conscious mind out of its sexual stupor.

The slap, against all reason, had excited me even more. Why is that? Why did violence from my wife against my person excite me? Looking back, I should have realized that something was going on, but I didn't. I just knew that I was really, really turned on. I rolled over.

Calmly, reassuringly: "That's better. Just lay there for a second, honey. Just a second." I felt her doing something at my ankles. Cold steel enveloped first one, then the other. The same thing happened with my hands. I knew she was restraining me, and I could barely contain my excitement. Remember, I hadn't had an orgasm in over six weeks, and I was ready to go at the drop of a hat. She could have breathed on my member and caused it to erupt, I think. She didn't.

I tested my bonds. Whatever else had changed in the three months of our separation, Aubrey had definitely learned how to tie someone to a bed. I was fully restrained.

I could feel her climbing onto the bed, and my mind filled with lust and passion. I very nearly came, just from feeling the heat of her body inches from mine. She reached past my head and grabbed something off of the nightstand. I heard her spit.

What happened next shocked me to my core. She took two of her fingers, and she shoved them into my ass. They weren't dry--they had her saliva on them--but they still hurt like hell. What was she doing? I grunted in surprise and pain. I had never had anything but shit in my rectum, and it was a one-way street.

"What the hell? Hey!"

"Shut up," she said. She began to finger-fuck my asshole.

And then, with her fingers pumping in and out of me, she told me how it would work, from here on out. She told me how devastated she'd been when I had said those crushing things, so many weeks ago. How she'd been unable to eat, barely able to function at all. How she'd been essentially dead to the world. How she had eventually drug herself to my computer, intending to find out what else I'd been into. How she'd watched some of my porn, to get inside my head and figure out what could have made me act that way. How she found that she couldn't stop watching, and against her will had been excited by it.

She told me how she had nothing but contempt for me now, how she hated me, how she wanted to make me suffer. For perverting her mind. For destroying her happiness. For marrying her, in the first place. She related her plan, the plan she'd hatched over the months of our separation, a plan to torment me. She told me how she'd read several books on sub/dom relationships and how one could bend a lover to their will, especially if the lover had something to feel guilty about. And she told me that there were many, many other things about those three months that she wasn't going to tell me, not yet. How she'd reveal them in scraps and pieces, to torture me with possibilities. She told me that her plan had succeeded; that I was in the palm of her hand; that she could treat me anyway she wanted and that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I'd do whatever she asked. Because I was a piece of shit, a worthless fucking sack of bones that was only good for two things: for bringing money into the house, and for subjecting to humiliation.

As I lay there, writhing in pain and reeling from the terrible words coming from her mouth, I realized that she was right, right about everything. I would do whatever she wanted, and if it made me feel bad, well, I deserved it. I was a worthless piece of shit, and I deserved anything she cared to dish out.

I took a deep breath, and uttered the fateful words: "Yes, honey. I am yours. For anything."

Aubrey threw her head back and her laughter pealed loud in our small bedroom. "I know you are. You don't need to tell me. And from now on you'll talk when I fucking tell you to."

She pulled her fingers out of my ass and held them under my nose. "You smell that, you turd-gobbling little shit? That right there, that's what you are. All you are to me. You're shit." And she wiped her fingers in my hair. I could smell my own shit on the back of my head, and nothing I could do about it.

I should have known what was coming next, but it still surprised me. I heard her uncap the lid to a bottle of something. A couple drops of a cold liquid fell on my ass and leg. And then the most blindingly painful thing I've ever felt in my life happened. She shoved the dildo, the one that had just been in her cunt, into my asshole. In one smooth, liquid movement, she practically split me in half. I screamed, my existence compressed to the painful sensations I was feeling.

She giggled like a little girl. It was clear to me that this scream, my pain, my agony, was causing her great pleasure. I suppose I should be grateful that she coated it with lube first.

She pulled the dildo almost all of the way out, and then rammed it back in again. I screamed again. Slowly, slowly at first, she fucked me in the ass, building up speed over the course of several minutes. I stopped screaming after a minute, my voice hoarse. I had spent all the energy I had on those screams. She continue this for perhaps 10 minutes, giggling again every now and then. Towards the end of the ordeal, she started pulling the dildo all the way out, poising it a couple of inches above my ass, and then plunging it back in.

At last she pulled her implement of torture out for the final time and threw it on my back, where I could feel it warm and slimy against my skin. My ass felt empty and cold. She stood up and left the room, leaving me tied to the bed. The after a minute or two the dildo slid off my back and onto the mattress.

I heard her talking on the phone, downstairs in the kitchen. She sounded excited, girlish, like she was calling the boy who was taking her to prom night. She talked for 10 minutes or so and then returned to the bedroom.

"Lay there for a couple more minutes, worthless, while I get something ready." I knew better than to answer. I heard her rustling through the bottom drawer of her dresser, and then unzipping something.

After a couple of minutes, the "something" was ready. I felt Aubrey climb back on to the bed, just like last time. My hard-on was long gone, unlike last time. I felt her straddle my legs and then I felt a pressure on my ass again. I would have thought nothing could cause me more pain down there, but I was wrong.  She was shoving something huge in there and I screamed again, my voice ragged. After a moment of struggle, whatever-it-was slid fully into my ass and the pain subsided, somewhat.

Satisfied, she said "That should do it. We're going to leave that in there, for as long as I want. I'm going to untie you now, and you are going to roll over. You're not going to touch me at all with your hands. You are going to lay there until I tell you to get up. Do you understand?" I nodded. She untied me and I turned over as she had instructed me. I couldn't see what she'd jammed into my ass, but I felt it there, filling up my anal cavity. It was probably, I thought, some kind of buttplug.

I could see her now, and against my will the sight of her naked body sent my cock pointing back at the ceiling. She nodded, smiling. "That's right, little cock. Get hard again. I have a little surprise for you, too." She pulled out a dog chain that was attached to a hinged, inch-and-a-half in diameter metal ring. This she opened and then snapped onto the base of my cock, under my balls. It was a leash, a goddamn dog leash, to lead me around by my balls. Just what I deserve, I thought.

Now she climbed up and straddled my head, her hairy pussy poised a bare inch above my face. "Look at you, lying there with a plug in your ass and a leash on your cock. I'm going to ride your face now, you cockwad. I need to come again, before I go out again tonight." And with that statement hanging in the air, she lowered herself onto my face. This was no gentle oral session; in fact, she didn't even ask me to do anything. She simply ground her pussy and clit on my chin, my lips, my nose, over and over again for several minutes. Her natural lubrication, once difficult to elicit, now flowed from her steadily, coating my face, running down the side of my cheek, pooling in my ear. As she neared her second orgasm of the evening, her speed increased and she was now fairly flying back and forth over my abused face.

Her moans and gasps grew louder and shriller, and as she came, a good cup and a half of... piss? ejaculate? some liquid streamed from her pussy and soaked my face, gushing down my cheeks, into my hair, and pooling beneath the back of my head. Some got into my mouth. It tasted of sweat and very faintly of urine.

Aubrey came as hard as she had with the dildo, her body tensing and bucking up and down on my face like it was trampoline. Again, she collapsed onto the bed, covered in sweat. I lay still, the buttplug still in my ass, my hard-on again vanished. After a moment or so she slowly got up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Oh my fucking GOD, I love to come. It's too bad you couldn't satisfy me even as well as I can satisfy myself," she breathed. I remained silent, contemplating what a piece of shit I was for ever thinking I could satisfy this woman.

She stood up then, and commanded me to stand up too. The buttplug stayed in. "Now, come on, you shiteating little faggot," she commanded. She grabbed the leash and gave it a sudden jerk. I instantly sprang from the bed--it hurt, and I didn't want her to do it again. She led me by the leash into the bathroom, started the shower and sat down on the toilet to piss. I stood there, watching her urinate. She was amazingly sexy, even perching there on the toilet. What had I ever had to offer a goddess like her?

"Get in the shower and clean up. You smell "--she giggled--" like shit. Leave your accessories where I put them." I complied, of course. Got cleaned up. There must have been some tears around my anus; the water stung sharply as it ran down between my butt cheeks. Coming out, I found her still nude, applying lipstick to her lips. She'd already done the rest of her makeup; heavy eyeshadow and mascara completed the look.

She climbed into the jacuzzi tub and sat down on the rim. Her legs were open; she seemed to have lost all sense of modesty she'd once had. "Now I'm going to go out tonight and get laid," she said. "I'm going to a swinger's bar tonight. I have a date with someone who is considerably more impressively proportioned than you. You're going to help me get ready for my evening." Looking at the ground, I nodded silently. "The first thing you're going to do is shave my vagina. If you cut me I swear to god you will regret it for a year; so be careful, worthless."

So I helped my wife get ready for a date with another man. After the shave, she made me fetch her underwear, powder her cheeks, and brush her hair. Then I had to help her into her clothes; she wore a black lace thong, a strapless black corset which I had to lace up behind, a black latex miniskirt, and 5" black heels. She had a small shawl against the cold, and by the time she was ready to leave she'd done her hair up on top of her head.

"Bye bye, now, asstwat," Aubrey lilted on her way out the door. "You put on any clothes, you're in trouble. You look at any porn, you're in trouble. You can watch TV, fix yourself something to eat (as though I care), whatever, just follow the rules." She knew I'd obey, too. It was astonishing how quickly our relationship had transformed from husband and wife to master and servant.

Several hours passed. I watched some TV; made myself a sandwich; read some news online, all the time with a large steel plug in my rectum and a leash on my cock, naked. I wondered when she'd be home. Eventually I fell asleep on the couch, curled up.

At 12AM the doorbell rang. I got up and ran to the door, confused and disoriented. A split second before I opened the door I remembered that I was completely nude and in a compromising state; instead of opening the door I peered through the peek-hole. It was Aubrey, of course. Her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had run in rivulets down her cheeks and dried there. What had caused that? But what was worse, what was infinitely worse, was the guy with her. He was black and a dead ringer for Shaquille O'Neal. I'd never seen such a powerful, muscular, solid-looking guy before. He was dressed like a successful businessman might for a night on the town; he had a turtleneck, jeans with a belt, and a black leather jacket. He was older than us. I never heard his age, but I would have guessed it at about 40.

The doorbell rang again, over and over again in quick succession. "OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR YOU LAZY SHIT," she screamed. This made the guy with her laugh; and they both dissolved into fits of giggles. They'd obviously been drinking. A lot. Recovering, she shouted "I'm serious this time. You open this door or you're going to spend the night in the doghouse. Literally." I bowed my head. It looked like my humiliation was going to be complete. I opened the door. When the Shaq-alike saw me he started laughing again. "This is your husband? What did you ever see in a weak-kneed, scrawny, tiny-dicked little 98-pound-weakling like this, baby?"

Stepping in to the entryway of our house, she said "I was young and stupid. And you know, he actually makes a lot of money, so he's useful to keep around for that, if nothing else. Kneel. Look at the floor." This last was delivered to me in an offhand way, as though I was a pet or a piece of furniture. I obeyed.

She'd obviously prepped the guy; he walked over to where I was kneeling and stood right in front of me. Aubrey grabbed a handful of my hair and forced me to look at his crotch. "Do you see that bulge, there? That's what Phil's cock looks like when it's flaccid." There was, indeed, a large bulge distending the front of his jeans. Still gripping my hair, she said, "That cock has already fucked me twice tonight, once in a stall in the men's bathroom at the bar, and just now it fucked my throat in the backseat of your car. And I plan on having it fuck me more. Are you starting to get the idea why I was never enough for you in bed? It's because you completely failed to inspire me." I couldn't help feeling that this was a little unfair--I knew the averages and I knew that while I wasn't hung like a horse, or anything, I certainly wasn't small. She must have seen the look flicker across my face, because she slapped me, hard, and shook my head by my hair. "FAILED TO INSPIRE!" she shouted. "Do what I told you, now," she muttered to Phil.

Phil grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the living room. Everything was happening so suddenly; and my feelings of worthlessness and surrender were so strong that I didn't even try to resist this giant of a man. Aubrey followed us in and sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and sitting forward as if she was enjoying a show. Which, I suppose, she was. Phil proceeded to give me a beating. He was obviously holding back, dragging it out--he had biceps the size of my thighs and could have knocked me out with a single punch, but he took his time, kneeing me in the head, giving me a black eye. Once he held me down and punched the back of my head several times in a row. I got a fat lip. At one point he had me in a half nelson, on the floor, head pressed into the carpet, and I heard a moaning noise. Looking up, I saw my wife sitting back on the couch, eyes open wide to watch my beating, skirt pushed up around her hips, hand between her legs noisily frigging her clit. She was getting off watching me get the shit beat out of me! What had she become? It was at this moment, this exact moment in time, that the last bit of hope went out of me. She was no longer the woman I'd married, even though we still had the license to prove it. I'd destroyed that woman months ago when I'd verbally abused her. This woman was somebody else--somebody I was beholden to, someone I surrendered to. Somebody I'd created.

"Finish it," she gasped around her moans. As she reached her loud, wailing climax, Phil kneed me particularly hard across the forehead and I blacked out to the echoing noise of her passion.

I awoke after what seemed like days but what was evidently only a few minutes later. I recoiled violently--someone was holding smelling salts under my nose. I was restrained somehow. Craning my neck around I could see that I was hogtied. Aubrey stood up, satisfied. "He's awake, let's get started." Get started?

Our living room had a couch sitting at an angle to one of the corners. This created a triangular space behind it. We had a standing lamp back there. Phil picked me up and threw me bodily behind this couch; it was like he was tossing a wet rag. My head collided violently with the lamppost, giving me yet another goose egg. I ended up in an odd, twisted, uncomfortable position, face pressed into the carpet, knees leaning against the wall. I could hear what was going on, but I couldn't see it, and I couldn't move because I was tied.

Behind the fabric next to my ear, I heard the groan of the couch's springs as Phil sat on it. I heard his zipper come down, and heard the rustling of pants being removed. Then I heard him sigh. The sounds I was hearing convinced me that my wife was apparently giving him head, something she'd never been good at before but which she'd apparently been able to perfect. The squelching sounds mixed with her mild gagging noises were obscene. If I could have covered my ears, I would have. Whether it was her skill or his natural ability I couldn't say, but even after already fucking my wife twice that night, he came only a couple of minutes later, groaning loudly; I could hear her swallowing his jizz, something else she'd never done before.

"Aight, baby, your turn for some fun," he said. I heard him stand up and then heard the springs groan again as Aubrey took his place. This time there was no zipper, no rustling of clothes; apparently he'd just pushed her skirt up around her hips again and gotten down to business. I heard her whimper as he entered her; and then the springs told of the steady cadence with which he was pounding her. This time he seemed to hold on forever. It must have been fifteen minutes. Halfway through she lost all semblance of self-control, shrieking, occasionally yipping like some manic lapdog, even snorting through her nose a couple of times. Their genitals made a rapid squelch-squelch-squelch noise--how was she getting so wet? I could never get her that wet, not in ten years. I couldn't believe that my wife was taking another man into herself just two feet away from me, torturing me with the sound of it. At the end she had another of those new orgasms she'd been having since I saw her with the dildo, her voice improbably loud, vibrating the picture frames and window.