Ann: The Married Years Ch. 21

He did not that long afterward. She'd been having multiple orgasms ever since. To think there'd been a time when she'd accepted it as normal to only have one climax during a sexual encounter. Now, she seemed like she was settling if she had less than three. But this new development had her wondering.

"How the hell would I count that?"

A lot of her newfound sexual discovers came from being so comfortable with him that she became uninhibited. Because of him she'd learned just how much she loved taking such a thick cock all the way down her throat, as well as up her tight, shapely ass. She'd also learned how incredible it was to make love to a woman, to the point she made a point to change her sexual preference from 'straight' to 'bisexual'. It only made sense. She had to somehow account for sleeping with so many different women over the last few years. He'd also taught her how to be daring, her craving for showing off her body and having sex in public places an incredible turn on for both of them.

There were so many others that came to mind, most notably her renewed love of being Annabelle. That wasn't just because of how he'd found ways to make her cum like a water cannon was shooting out of her cunt. She loved it before that and she'd missed it more than she wanted to admit. The orgasms she'd had since she submitted to him in her dungeon, from the small tremors to those torrential outbursts were all unbelievable, but that was just the incredible byproduct of how they were connecting as Master and slave.

Yet she was stunned. And what stunned her was that it was now midway through Sunday, and she'd been the only one to actually connect, if you will.

"He hasn't cum once," she said to herself in disbelief as they ate their dinner quietly on the small table he'd been using to hold his tools of the trade.

That wasn't to say he hadn't done anything sexually with her. He actually had cum, the first night they were in her dungeon when she'd made the decision to submit to him. And he'd fucked her ass and her face in the time since. But she was right in that he hadn't had another orgasm, at least that she was aware of. He seemed to be perpetually hard, his thick, pulsing shaft drawing the attention of her longing eyes whenever she wasn't blindfolded. And she had several orgasms while he fucked her ass. But he hadn't done the same. She even wondered at one point if he had jacked off the night before after he left her to sleep.

But he hadn't. He was abstaining, at least for the moment. It was a tough decision but he had his reasons, just like he did for not fucking her pussy. He'd done that before when she'd been Annabelle, using only her ass and her mouth and ignoring her pussy when it came to a place to put his cock. But this was the first time he had withheld his orgasms from her, save that first one when he covered her face with his cum like he was marking her as his possession.

It was all a part of his goal of getting into her head. He was doing things that were unsettling, like the imaginary threat of fucking another man, testing her mental strength and emotional stability. It was easy to concentrate on just the physical aspects of dominating Annabelle, pushing those limits. After all, that was a huge part of why she loved it, feeling the exhilaration of the pain mixing with the incredible pleasure he was allowing her. Yet he was doing things to touch on those other areas; ones that had often before taken a back seat to the punishment and gratification she needed.

He had planned on taking it to a whole new level. He started with forcing her to decide to become Annabelle without psyching up to do it, taking away her mental edge. He followed that up by shaving off her pubic hair, stripping her of one of the things she viewed as a symbol of her sexuality. To pound in the idea that her body belonged to him, he forced her to keep it shaved. He also took shots at her dignity, taking her morning bathroom routines, the ones she held in her mind as private and making her do them in front of him. During that time he planted the idea that she might be fucking another man.

He did all of that and more, each move designed to peel away the layers of her sexuality she felt she still had control over, wanting her to open herself up even more to him.

And denying her his cum was just more one way he'd intended to do it. It seemed entirely possible that it was backfiring, feeling a little like he was punishing himself when he had a gorgeous, willing woman at his disposal, submitting to his every naughty whim. But if there was one area of their marriage where he knew he had the upper hand, it was patience. Perhaps this bordered more along the line of self-discipline, but in his mind the two went hand-in-hand and he felt he was stronger in that character trait as well. While she hadn't said anything to him other than that one initial inquiry, he could tell the fact that he was withholding his orgasms was bothering her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As much as he was toying with her mind and soul, hoping to challenge her in every area he could think of, he wasn't done with the physical games they'd been playing. When Sunday morning arrived he woke her up, making her get ready in front of him again, not letting her shower a second straight day because it took too long for her to shave her body and to give herself the enemas, something she was finding particularly demeaning to do in front of him. He gave her just ten minutes to prepare, saying it was something any man could do if they had to rush out in a hurry.

It was ridiculous to think a woman could primp and pamper herself in such a short time, especially since most men just shaved their face, and she had much more area to cover. She tried saying as much, but he reminded her that he shaved his cock and balls for her daily, even though he knew that was a rather weak rebuttal on his part. Plus he wasn't shoving a tube up his butt, passing gallons of warm, soapy water through his bowels like she did. She gave herself two large enemas every morning, all in an effort to keep her ass clean and sanitary in case he wanted to fuck her, or shove something else there just for fun.

Even with it being a ridiculous comparison, he was restricting her morning me time just the same, pressuring her to stop wasting time and get the job done. Not only was he rushing her, he was making her do it in his order, the routine she usually used deemed as inefficient. She struggled with that, her own rituals having been developed and modified over the years and now ingrained as habit. Being told what to do and when to do it was messing with her head. For starters, she never would have shaved her pussy first, let alone the area of her pubic mound where she used to keep the magical strip that was suddenly gone. It was another instance of him robbing her individuality and she was not handing it gracefully.

When time was up, no matter where she was at that point she had to stop. All she was allowed to do afterward was brush her teeth and put on some deodorant. The closest thing to a shower she'd had in two days was being sprayed off with a hose and that made her feel dirty in more ways than one. But she didn't have a choice. It was time for her new morning ritual.

He bound her breasts again, slightly different in how he used the rope, but the end result was much the same. Her tits were wound tight, returning to a brilliant shade of purple, and her nipples returning to the enormous size they'd been the day before.

She'd endured another morning punishment, taking a hundred more swats to her ass. This time instead of the paddle, he bent her over the familiar sawhorse and used his bare hand. That made it hurt worse, the heat radiating from her crimson cheeks. Once she'd marked the strikes on the tally board that was the cinderblock wall, the chalk held tightly with her pursed lips, it was time for more pleasure.

Her ass was still stinging eight hours later as they sat down for dinner. She was devouring one of the burgers he'd grilled. She remained tied up in the dungeon while he went to the deck to cook, but he freed her so she could enjoy her meal. It was important to both of them that she maintained her energy. And after what she'd just been through, she needed a lot.

She was staring longingly at the apparatus he'd just used while she wolfed down her food. She wasn't sure if the warm spot she had inside was because of what she was eating, or what Neil had done with her on it. All she knew was she was hungry, and for the moment, happy.

He'd built a wooden frame of sorts, one that was obviously specific for a slave. It was known as a Saint Andrew's cross, made in the shape of a giant 'X' so that her arms and legs would be held captive in a spread-eagle position. He assembled it in front of her, sliding one big board over the other, the grooves he'd cut into the two making them fit flush where they came together; four big lag bolts keeping them in place. It attached to a floor joist overhead, several more bolts securing it there, holding it upright.

She envisioned what she must have looked like, her wrists and ankles tied with ropes, held against the frame as he threaded the ends through holes he'd drilled in the wood. Her arms were stretched high and wide over her head; her legs bound and spread the same, exposing her wet cunt.

Looking down at her nipples as she chewed, she smiled wistfully. The strings he'd tied to each still lassoed around them tightly. When she let her mind concentrate she could feel them pulse with her heartbeat, a stark reminder of how they felt earlier.

Once she was on the cross, her body secured with her back against it, he tied slipknots on the strings and looped them over nipples, making them snug, but not overly tightening them. He put the other ends of the strings through an eyelet screwed into the floor joist above, but a couple feet in front of her, and then he tied the ends of the two strings together. The tied ends hung down loosely through the eyelet, and she wondered why.

Out came the metal balls once more, only this time there were twelve of them. He hooked two over the string, dropping them to take up the slack, the twine pulling her nipples out and up from her breasts harshly.

Putting down the burger, her hand went to one of her nipples as she recalled how hard they were yanked, especially when he added more and more of the weights to the string before he was done with her. Each one increased the tension, and the pain...and the wetness between her legs.

When it came to between her legs, he went there, and she came. He started with his hand, finger-fucking her to her first orgasm. Then he used a small vibrator, forcing a second climax out of her before she could really recover. He used two different dildos, and several other vibrators. Even Stanley the hammer showed up to fuck her pussy, making her cum.

She was crying, her clit so over-stimulated she wasn't sure she could take any more. He'd spent three hours doing nothing but pushing her, trying to make her cum in different ways. After every climax he dropped another weight on the string. Then he'd go about using a different toy to get her off a different way.

It was when he used the big wand vibrator on her that she began squirting again, the resulting orgasm so intense it was a wonder she didn't pass out like before. She was oh so close to slipping into that subspace in her mind, between there and not there. The place where only true sluts are lucky enough go; the ones with loving partners that know exactly how to push them. The two weights he added made her nipples burn as they were pulled even harder and kept her from going there that time. She knew it was because he wasn't done with her quite yet.

He pulled out the riding crop again, her eyes lighting up when she saw it. He'd decided against a blindfold, using instead the ball gag from the start to keep her quiet. He didn't want her talking. All along she got to see what he was about to do and the calm with which he went about his work. It was an odd reversal from the day before, and yet somehow that subtle difference turned out to be huge in how she reacted.

The sight of the crop in his hand brought excitement and trepidation, her stomach doing flip-flops as she thought of what he might do; of hope of what he would do. She knew where he'd start. She prayed where he might finish.

Her breasts still ached from where he'd used the end of the crop to swat them the day before. Once again, he aimed at her nipples, at least for the most part. He concentrated there, but he'd hit all over her breasts. He also took his time to swat other areas of her body as well to keep her off guard. Her rib cage got a workout, as did the inside of her upper arms. She found it surprisingly hurt when he hit her armpits. The outside of her thighs weren't nearly as bad as the inside. And her taut, toned abdomen was treated to an especially harsh series of swipes.

All the while he told her that none of them counted against her tally. He'd decided when she came all over him the day before that the only strokes that would count toward the huge debt she'd worked up would be the ones on her ass. Mainly because he liked the idea of her having to literally work her ass off to forgive the debt. It somehow seemed more poetic.

She recalled how excited she became when he was beating the inside of her thighs. Not because she was enjoying it. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was hitting her hard and it was certainly leaving behind marks along her tender flesh. But he was close to her pussy and she was thrilled with the idea that he might hit her there next.

He did, but not before taking another complete tour of her body with the crop, starting again with those tender breasts. He then revisiting all of the places he'd honed in on the first time. When he finally returned to the inside of her thighs she was begging with her eyes, her mewls and whines not from the stinging blows, but from wanting him to finally use the crop on her dripping cunt.

She moaned as she took another bite of her dinner. But it wasn't how wonderful it tasted that caused her reaction. She was recalling how incredible it felt when he finally landed the first blow on her swollen clit.

"Good burgers," Neil nodded, thinking he was agreeing.

She flashed him a sexy smirk. "Yeah... they're great too."

"Hmm... I take it you were moaning about something else."

"I was, Master," she winked.

"And what would that be?"

"I was thinking about how you made me cum with the riding crop again. I can't get over how turned on I got waiting for you to use it on me... where I wanted it."

"You seem to love having your pretty little pussy hit," he smiled.

"I can't explain it, but yeah, it was incredible."

"Must be why you went off like a hydrant again."

"I really can't explain that! I hope there's not something wrong with me."

"Ha... I don't think so. Other than you being a perfect slut."

"Yeah, well, thank God we're doing this down in the dungeon. I'd hate to think what kind of a mess I'd be making if you did that to me in the house."

"Perhaps we'll find out some day," he laughed.

"N... Neil?" she said nervously, knowing she'd broken character again.

The worry in her eyes made him soften, and he decided to let the indiscretion slide once more. "Yes?"

"Do you think I'm going to start going off like that all the time?" she asked quietly, concerned about the newfound way she'd started cumming, wondering what it all really meant.

"I think that's unlikely. But I'm sure when the circumstances are just right, you will. Does it bother you?"

"I guess... a little. It was so scary that first time yesterday. I'm sorry I got you all wet."

"It's okay, Annabelle. That's why those don't count against your punishment. You seem to enjoy them too much. Are you sure you're not worried?"

"No. Not really."

Puzzled by her conflicting answers, he asked, "Are you afraid you're not going to have another one?"

"Well, it's not like I'm spoiled now. My normal orgasms are still incredible. Hell, I was close to passing out before I had one of those today. You made me cum so many times this morning I lost count. So I'm not bothered... it's more like I have this new power, and I don't know how to control it. I don't even know what's causing them."

"I am," he grinned proudly. "And the power you think you have is really mine."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ann wasn't having another one of those incredible, explosive orgasms. Instead it was one of her more ordinary ones. But true to her word it was still mind-altering. She was cumming so easily now, having been doing it for what seemed like two days straight. Her groin hurt, her clit throbbing as she screamed into her ball gag. She was thankful she had it in her mouth, unsure of the hour but knowing it was late.

She was on her knees, her forearms tied to the outside of her lower legs, bending her body in a vulgar way. Her face was on the towel he'd been using as a cushion to bend her over the sawhorse in the mornings; folded into a makeshift pillow to keep from pressing her cheek against the crushed rocks of the dungeon floor. Her tits had been re-tied, having let them loose for a couple of hours to let the blood flow, but once again in the harsh bindings. She wondered if they'd ever return to a normal tan, having been purple for what seemed to be the better part of the weekend. And now they were dragging in the rocks as she was rocked back and forth.

Her nipples still had the coarse strings tied to them, stretched tight. He'd untied the other ends, pulling the strings back between her legs, actually using her pussy ring as the anchor point to tie them off. The lip with the piercing was being pulled toward her nipples, which were pulled back toward her cunt. Every stroke of the cock moved the ring, and that pulled on her nipples. It was excruciating and magical at the same time.

"I wish I had a ring on the other side," she thought, imagining how wicked it would feel to have both her outer labia pierced, so each of them could be stretched out in such a nasty way. It was incredible to her that Neil had come up with using the ring as a way to tie off the nipple strings in the first place. It was harder to believe that she wished she had a second one. It felt that slutty and it was helping her cum.

It was the roughest terrain she'd ever fucked on, or kneeled on for that matter. There was a big, comfortable king-sized bed literally above her in her bedroom, and yet there she was being hammered from behind while her knees; her lower legs, arms and breasts pressed against a gravel floor.

As odd and unreal as it might seem to most people, she'd never felt more loved than she did at that moment. It was because he was taking her places she couldn't take herself and he wasn't holding back. He never once asked her if she was okay the entire weekend and she found that enlightening. She had her word and her signal she could use. He had a knack for knowing just where and how far to go with her, and most importantly they had each other's trust.

She felt close to him. It wasn't because he was behind her, ramming his fat, pulsing cock deep into her ass. The whole experience felt raw to her. The mood, the room, the very spot in the rocks he'd chosen to ream her. Add to that how she was tied, that he was still refusing to fuck her pussy... all of those things swirled around in her head. Despite everything that would suggest she was being treated horribly, she had a contented smile on her face.

"I'm such a slut," she sighed, her body aching as she came down from her latest climax, knowing another one was soon to crash over her. She'd never been happier. "My Master's slut!" she corrected.