Amy's Bitch Ch. 02

Story Info
Amy enjoys his punishment.
3.1k words
4.46
100.9k
45

Part 2 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 12/07/2014
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**Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. I made it up. It concerns a married couple who both get sexual pleasure from the wife humiliating and sexually dominating her husband. If that doesn't appeal to you, read something else.**

It's a constant, nagging feeling, like an itch that won't go away. It's a deep, remorseless craving that never stops, not entirely. Every minute of every day, there's some part of my mind that's on her, no matter what I do. Sat in a boring business meeting, I'll see flashes of the shape of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Driving home, my cock will twitch expectantly as I remember the arch of her foot in her expensively slutty shoes, and the moan in her throat as she climaxed while I licked her. Like a dog tethered in the yard, I can only get so far away before I come right back, endlessly circling the stake that keeps me imprisoned.

I'm obsessed with my wife.

That first night, after her shower, she released me from the handcuffs. Not right away, of course. She made a show of inspecting her boots to ensure I'd polished them to her satisfaction. I had. She spread her panties over her fingers to check that I had erased every trace of her juices from the thin fabric. I had. She smiled as she acknowledged that I had followed her instructions to the letter, because she knew why. The bobbing cock at her feet was there to remind her, and me. As long as she got me horny enough, I'd do whatever she said. It was hers now, a fleshy lever she could use to get what she wanted, anytime she wanted. I'd known that for a while, but she'd just discovered it, and the thrill of this new toy was touching some dark place inside her that neither of us suspected was there.

After making me lick her to another orgasm, after making me beg until I was hoarse, she unlocked the handcuffs, and I pounced. I threw myself on top of her and fucked her harder than I'd ever fucked her. After all the teasing, I didn't expect to last long. But I was wrong. We never had sex like that before. She came again and again, and every time her pussy gripped my cock in ecstasy, she threw me off my rhythm. It went on for hours. It went on so long we had to pause for a water break. We fucked until she couldn't walk, couldn't speak, could only moan and cry out and spasm, again and again, pouring her hot juices all over both of us. When we were finally done, the bedroom window was opaque with condensation, the sheets were soaked in cum, and we lay there, side by side, naked and wordless, until we both fell asleep.

That one night changed our relationship. We went on as we had before; she wasn't Miss Amy forever. We did chores and went to work and had sex, without corsets and handcuffs and high heels, the old fashioned sex we had before. But the obsession in me was growing. I was like a teenager again, constantly horny, constantly hard. At thirty-one, I'd thought I was well past the inappropriate hard-on phase. Apparently not.

And this near-constant fever-pitch lust was obvious. I couldn't keep my hands off her, as though we were teenagers who'd just discovered sex. In the aisles of the grocery store, my hand would rest tenderly in the small of her back. Out for dinner, I would trace the shape of her thigh beneath the table. At home, I couldn't pass her in the kitchen without wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her in for a passionate kiss.

And my lust fed hers. The more I desired her, the more desirable she felt, and it showed. After all, there's nothing as beautiful as a happy, well-fucked woman. She glowed. She changed. The self-esteem issues that almost ruined our sex life were banished.

I remember the first day she wore a skirt to work. Her office was very casual, and for the three years she worked there, I'd only seen her wear jeans. Until one day, she decided to go with a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and cupped her ass and made her look incredibly sexy, especially in combination with the black patent high heels she bought to go with it. She giggled as my erection pressed against her thigh as we kissed goodbye in the morning. "Down, boy" she said through her teeth, patting my hard-on as she playfully bit my lip, then grabbed her keys and left. She didn't get far past the front door that evening before I had her skirt off and those heels in the air.

She wore skirts and heels to work most days after that.

We were watching TV in the spare room. It's a long story; I have US Netflix in the living room, and Canadian Netflix in the spare room. So sometimes we'll watch TV in there. We can curl up on the queen size guest bed and relax. She was still in her work clothes; a red sleeveless shirt and a tight grey skirt that ended just above the knee. I'd worked out earlier, so was in a T shirt and shorts that did little to hide my excitement. I'd been staring at the way her hip rose in a graceful arc under the skirt as she lay on her side for a while before she looked away from the TV, straight at me.

"God, you're horny, aren't you?" she said.

"Very," I replied.

"I can see it in your face," she smiled. Under the blanket, her fingers walked down my side to my crotch. "Among other places."

I felt her fingers wrap around my shaft.

"You really are hot for me, aren't you?" she asked.

"You have no idea," I replied. "It's bad. All I can think about is fucking you. I can't concentrate at work, I'm hard all the time – it's brutal."

Her hand slid slowly, slowly, upwards, and slowly, slowly, back down.

"And now you dress so sexy, even just to go to work. I want to fuck you all the time. It's not even fair."

Her hand moved again. Up, and down. Up, and down. I could see the blanket tenting as she rubbed me.

"Sometimes I think about the guys you work with. They must be drooling over you constantly. All these tight skirts and high heels – how do they get any work done?"

She laughed at that, throwing her head back, and I leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Well," she said, "that's very flattering. I like having you all revved up like this. I think about it sometimes, when I'm at work, when I can feel guys looking at my ass in those tight skirts you all seem to love so much. I think about how I have a man at home who wants me so bad he'll do anything."

I nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her perfume, and felt her hand tighten on my straining cock.

"You'll do anything, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Her grip tightened further.

"Anything, what?"

"Anything, Miss Amy."

"There's a good slut. Now, get naked and go get the handcuffs."

"Yes Miss Amy."

She lit candles. She took off her shirt. She made me kneel at her feet, of course, and she stood in front of me, fists on her hips, her pale breasts spilling over a black push-up bra I'd never seen before, her legs spread as far as her tight skirt would allow. Her red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders, shining like woven copper in the candlelight.

"Ok, slut," she said, "tonight's your lucky night. I'm going to let you pleasure me. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss Amy" I barked in response, without hesitation.

"Such a well-trained slut," she sneered. "But first, we need to decide what shoes you're going to be grovelling at, don't we?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I panted.

"Yes, Miss Amy," she replied. "Now, remember those heels you bought me when you took me shoe shopping? Those three pairs of slutty boots I let you pick out?"

"Yes, Miss Amy." I was practically drooling. About three weeks ago, I'd talked her into shoe shopping, and we'd spent an entire day with her trying on impractical footwear and me being her willing shoeboy, running to fetch her anything she asked for and kneeling in public to put the shoes on her feet. At the end of the day, she allowed me to pick my three favourites and buy them for her. We'd had great sex that night, but the shoes didn't appear that night, or any other since. Until now.

"Well, each of these three boxes has one of those pairs inside. I'm going to let you pick. Crawl up to the box you want and point with your nose."

I couldn't lose. Every pair was sexy as hell. No matter what I picked, she'd look magnificent. Awkwardly, the handcuffs biting into my wrists, I shuffled towards the bed and pointed at the middle box.

"Ah," she said with a smile, lifting the box's lid towards me so that I couldn't see what was inside, "I like these ones too. Ok, here's what we'll do. I'll put these on, since you're in no condition to do it yourself. But you need to take the rest of my clothes off with your teeth."

"Yes Miss Amy! Thank you Miss Amy!" I practically shouted. She smiled.

"You're so sweet," she said. "But that's not all. Inside each of the boxes, I put a card with a different punishment on it. You didn't know it, but when you picked the shoes I was going to wear, you picked what I was going to do to you while wearing them."

She burst out laughing at the look on my face.

"Oh, honey, don't worry," she said. "I have to remind you of your place, don't I? You need to remember that I have the right to punish you at any time I like, whether you deserve it or not. Sometimes it's just for my amusement. You want me to be happy, don't you?" Her pouting face in the candlelight was at once cruel, mocking and hopelessly sexy.

"Yes, Miss Amy," I sighed.

"There's a good little slut. Let me put these on."

She took the shoes from the box and placed them on the floor at her feet. They were ankle boots made entirely of black lace. Her bare feet showed pale through a riot of black flowers, her painted toes peeking from the front. The slender heel was at least six inches tall. The shoes were her; incredibly sexy, without being overly slutty. Hot, but not cheap.

I watched her put them on in slow motion. There were laces that criss-crossed up the front; she pulled them tight and tied them off while I knelt and watched. Finally, she stood.

"Now," she said, her deepening breaths pushing her breasts higher in her bra, "this skirt needs to come off."

I shuffled forward on my knees. She half-turned, and I raised my face to the tiny zipper at the back of her skirt. It took a couple of tries, but I was able to lift the zipper with my tongue until I could grab it with my teeth and pull it down until the skirt started to slide downwards. Her ass cheeks bloomed through the gap, and I couldn't resist kissing her ass. She didn't stop me.

The skirt now loose, I lowered my head to take the hem in my teeth and draw the grey sheath down her legs until it pooled like liquid at her feet. I watched her sexy boots step out from the tangle of fabric and push the skirt aside, its magic gone now that she no longer wore it.

She had no underwear on under the skirt. When did she get rid of that?

"OK, slut," she said, standing proudly above me in her tall heels, "time for some fun. Up on the bed, on your back. Now." She clicked her fingers for emphasis and pointed at the bed, but I was already halfway there. My cock bobbing enthusiastically, I squirmed my way onto the mattress.

Amy got on the bed and crawled slowly up my body, her eyes locked on mine. Finally, she sat astride my chest, facing me. I could feel the warmth of her pussy on my skin. Her knees pressed against my shoulders. Her heels dug into my sides.

"Time for your punishment" she smiled, and leaned over me, her heavy breasts hanging in my face as she reached for something on the bedside table. I risked a kiss on one of her perfumed tits. She chuckled, and sat straight again. There was a candle in her hand.

"This is not because of anything you did, or didn't do," she began, the candle in her hand slowly circling over me. "You can't stop this by begging or pleading. You're going to endure it because I want to see you suffer. What do you say, bitch?"

"Thank you, Miss Amy" I said.

"You're welcome, slut" she smiled.

The wax was hot. She tipped the candle, and the wax would burn my skin for a while, and she'd laugh and tighten her thighs on my sides. She never hit the same spot twice. It was always new skin, new pain. After a while, she realised that the closer the candle was to my chest, the hotter the wax and the greater the pain. She had a lot of fun varying the height of the candle, watching my face, listening to me plead for her to hold the candle higher and then either accepting or denying my request, according to her whim. It wasn't about anything I did, or didn't do. It was about her pleasure. It always was.

"I've got an idea!" she said suddenly, her eyes wide with excitement. I felt scared. I felt incredibly turned on.

She slid off the bed, and rummaged in a drawer. When she climbed back on top of me, there was something in her hand.

"Say hello to my little friend," she laughed, waving it around. It was bright blue and stubby, and something almost feathery sprouted from its base.

I knew what it was, of course. And if there'd been any doubt, it was removed when she flicked a switch and it started humming as she began to run it up and down her pussy lips.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as the vibrator opened her up. My hands pinned behind my back, all I could do was watch. "Ooohhhh," she gasped, and the bulbous head slipped inside her, the weird feathery appendage making sense now as it tickled her clit and she slowly fucked herself. Right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

After a few more gasps, she withdrew the vibrator. She hadn't cum yet; I marvelled at her self-control. Maybe there was a reason I was the one in handcuffs. She waved the blue plastic under my nose. I could smell her sex on it.

"You want to lick it?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Amy," I said dutifully.

"You want to suck it?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."

"OK," she said sternly as she ran the vibrator along my lips, "I'll let you suck my cock for just a second. Than phase two of your punishment begins."

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. But the smell of her snatch on the vibrator was driving me crazy, and I didn't even think. I took the grotesque blue plastic phallus in my lips, and I sucked every bit of her off it until it was bone dry.

"Good boy," she cooed, watching me under heavy-lidded eyes.

Abruptly she swung a leg over me and straddled me again, facing my feet this time. Looking over her shoulder, she inched towards my face until her ass was all I could see.

"Now," she said, and wedged something between my thighs, right up against my tightening balls, "keep this here. If you drop it, you'll be fucking sorry, I promise you." It was a candle. I was holding a thin candle between my thighs, and the molten wax was going to drip all over my balls, my cock, my perineum. But I was going to hold it there anyway. Because Miss Amy told me to.

"I'm going to make myself cum with this vibrator. You don't get to watch, but I will allow you to kiss my ass while I do it, ok?"

"Yes, Miss Amy. Thank you Miss Amy."

"Such a good little slut," she cooed.

The wax dripped, and it hurt. After a while, it would start to collect and form an impermeable shield, and then Amy would move the candle so that the wax dropped on fresh skin, to make sure it still hurt. I was in agony; I was in heaven. I heard her panting increase, heard her starting to moan, stopped hearing the vibrator's motor as she plunged it deeper inside herself, burying the sound; I kissed her ass passionately while she masturbated on my chest and tortured my cock and balls. Finally, with a high yell, she came on me. She lifted up on her knees so she could gush her juices all over my chest and stomach, her heels digging into my shoulders. With a sigh, she relaxed onto my dripping chest.

"Well done," she said quietly, leaning her head on my thighs, "you didn't drop the candle. That must have hurt quite a lot."

"Yes Miss Amy" I replied. "But it made you happy."

She let out a long sigh.

"It really did," she said. "Having you suffer for me like this is....well, it's incredible. It makes me feel so desired, so fucking hot. Suddenly I know that I'm an attractive woman; I must be, if I can make you go through this."

"You are," I said, and kissed the soft white globes of her ass cheeks, one after the other. "You're so hot, I can hardly take it."

"Well," she said, swinging her legs over me again and pivoting so that she faced me, "you've been a good little slut. And I believe in rewarding good behaviour. So now, you're going to lick me to one last orgasm before bed."

I didn't need to be told twice.

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9 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

Cold, deliberate, abuse is not love, it’s simply misandrist sadism.

AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

This story brings a longing to me. J.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 5 years ago
She sat on his face

And he bit a giant piece of her vagina. In extreme pain and bleeding badly see dialed 911. When the cops and the ambulance arrived she went first to the hospital and then to jail - for years. He kept all the marital assets in the divorce. What? You thought there wouldn't be any consequences? Laughably bad story

Bob_AganoushBob_Aganoushover 6 years ago
Really enjoying this series

I hope you'll continue writing here

lonelyslavelonelyslaveover 8 years ago
very hot

wow-he still hasn't come yet-very hot good stuff

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Amy's Bitch Previous Part
Amy's Bitch Series Info

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