Kelly's New Man

He said, "Your husband hasn't done anything but put up with your shit. You're the only one I want." The role play was still on I could see.

We passed from the mercury vapor light of the parking lot through the shadow of a large tree. He stopped me suddenly and he turned me roughly to face him. He pulled hard at the front of my jacket so it opened. Fully half of each breast was now bare to the night air and to his sight. I began to feel panicky again. I looked down. The lapels still covered my nipples, but barely. A breeze, or even a sudden motion of my body, and I would have my very own "wardrobe malfunction." I giggled from nerves at the joke.

He yanked sharply on the nipple chain. I had become used to the clamps, and they hadn't been hurting so much anymore, but his yank stretched the rigid nubs away from my body with sudden pain. "Ohhhhh," I groaned. Then the pain fell into the background of the experience. In my advanced sexual state, even the hurt felt…interesting. It was a new experience for me, pain as pleasure. I'd heard of it, but John had never been anything but gentle. I think I already said that.

He was guiding me again toward the side door. I was anxious to get there, my jacket loose across my breasts, my nipples aching. I could fuck him here as well as at home, and I was ready to climb on top of him like usual, except the energy level would be higher, a lot higher. I was in a big hurry. He used a room card to open the door. I wondered when he had had a chance to rent a room.

The silence of a motel, all the sounds soft behind doors, took over.

We turned left and walked down the hall, and he steered me past the elevator. When I tried to keep going, he twisted my wrist to force me to follow him beneath an exit sign. He turned me into a stairwell. He started me up the stair in front of him. But when we came to the first landing, he grabbed me suddenly, spun me back into the corner, grabbed my hands by the wrists and pinned them to the wall high above my head. Again he tugged at the chain hooked to my nipples, but this time he also kissed me, heavy with passion, and forced his tongue far into my mouth. Then he reached down beneath the hem of my skirt and brought his hand up again to my pussy, hurriedly reaching under the panties he had bought.

This was his own passion speaking. He pressed his fingers into me hard and moaned. He was hurried and rough, and his sudden violation was a shock. I would have thought it would hurt to be grabbed and penetrated like that, and it sort of did, but the passion of it was pretty amazing.

He had me up against the wall and I heard myself moan. He pulled his fingers from me. I caught a whiff of our sex, and he grabbed my panties and pulled, hard. The elastic bit into my skin, but the material stretched and then gave way, and the panties tore free, and I was virtually naked in the stairwell, at least beneath the short skirt and the unbuttoned jacket.

He balled the panties up and put them into the pocket of my jacket. "Go," he said, nodding toward the rest of the flight of steps leading up. He grabbed my wrist again, but this time he remained next to me. Then he put his hands on my hips to stop me and put his right hand beneath my skirt. I felt his fingers pressing against the bottom of both cheeks of my ass, and one of his fingers moved into my crack, and he pressed it against my anus.

I have never been very interested in anal sex, even the idea of it, and John has always been willing to limit himself to rimming me with his finger or thumb. In fact, I had gotten past my aversion to that particular tease and had come to think of having his thumb or finger gently touching, and then massaging, my hole as a nice part of the pleasure during sex. All of those extra nerve endings getting involved seemed to make everything else more intense. But in a public stairwell the pressure he was putting on my asshole was a violation and a violence as well as feeling erotic. Someone could be in the stairwell at any moment. I have no idea if he would have kept it up if someone had appeared.

We went through the door at the top of the stairs, his finger still pressing up against my anus beneath my skirt, and the breeze that swept past my legs when the door opened reminded me not only that I had no panties on but that I was continuing to leak fluid.

The hallway was quiet. He turned me to the left again and, when we came to the first door, he used the full length of his body to back me against it. He pressed his very hard cock firmly against my abdomen. But he kissed my lips with a surprising new softness, holding the kiss, just brushing against my lips and caressing them with the very tip of his tongue. I wanted him badly.

He took from the half-open duffel a blindfold, a sleep mask he uses when I want to watch TV at bedtime, and he gave it to me to put on. I did. I could see light faintly around the edges but nothing else, and I felt even more vulnerable with my sight taken away in a public hallway and with my back against the door of an unknown room.

I was half naked, more than half, blindfolded, and under the control of a man who was like a stranger and refused to know me. He pressed his length against me, and the door behind me slowly opened so I had to back into the room. I was still tipsy from the alcohol and not too steady backing up in reverse on high heels, either. He was holding my waist tightly, both to steer me and to steady me, and when the door behind me bumped against the wall and we quit moving, he brought the cold, plastic cloth of the duffel up against my arm and then touched it to the side of my throat and cheek. "Do you recall me showing you this bag?" he asked. I was being reminded in many ways that I was at his mercy.

I swallowed. I remembered. "Yes," I said, "What about it…."

He snarled. "If you say anything, I'll give you what-about-it."

I was now frightened. "John …" I began. I could hear my voice quaver.

"Hush," he said, this time more gently. "If you do what I say, everything will be fine."

He said: "I need you to be my slut again." He held my face between his hands and kissed me softly.

His gentle voice and touch was calming, but the threat was still in the air. The room was unusually warm, and I could hear him open or close the drape. Then I realized he must have been opening it because I could hear street sounds and someone talking in the parking lot. I wondered if anyone could see into the room where this weird, horny, frightened woman was at the mercy of a stranger. He moved me closer to the window, steering me by my elbows, and turned me to him. It was like he was reading my thoughts.

His kiss was warm, his tongue probed my mouth. I could feel his cock, rock hard, pressing eagerly against me through his pants. He still had not cum. I went to put my arms around his neck in an embrace, and he snarled again: "Don't." He took my jacket off roughly and gripped my breasts, mashing and probing them. Then he pinched my nipples and I felt the chain swing and keep constant the pull teasing at them.

He tugged my skirt down over my hips and helped me to step out of it. What an outrageous picture I must have made in front of that window in nothing but heels, a nipple chain and clamps, and a blindfold. Oh, and the lipstick coloring my nipples.

Suddenly he moved me to the right. My knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I went over. He has always been a strong man, and he moved me around on the bed, lifting me so he could put pillows beneath my butt and then – another surprise -- he grabbed my ankles and pulled first the right across the bed and snapped some sort of gizmo around it, and then he attached the left to the opposite side of the bed. Now I couldn't move my legs, and I was spread wide open to him. I had never been this way before either, and I wondered why the hell not. Being so helpless was tremendously erotic, I thought, but thank God no one could see me but John.

I moved my hand to lift up a corner of the blindfold. He caught me and slapped my hand away from my face and gripped my wrist fiercely. "Sluts don't get to see," he barked, and he grabbed my wrist and wrapped something around it. I felt and heard a lock snap shut on it, and just as quickly he grabbed the other wrist and stretched it up, too, and locked it. I was spread with my four limbs aimed at the corners of the bed and my back arched over the pillows holding my ass in the air and my pussy open to anything he wanted.

"If you say a word, I swear I'll gag you," he threatened. "Either that or introduce you to what's in my bag."

I heard his clothes coming off. I thought I knew what was coming next. John liked to climb between my legs and kiss all up and down from my knees, and to lick my nipples and eventually to put his penis in me and slowly, gently come to orgasm. This was the way John made love to me, unless of course I was on top.

Instead, my hair was jerked and pulled to twist my head toward the side of the bed. I yelped. I felt the mattress move as he came toward me, and he put his hand behind my head and lifted it up.

"Open your mouth," he said. "Suck my cock." Although I would suck him briefly sometimes, usually putting him in my mouth didn't do much for me. But this time was different in every way. I felt him push, not at all gently, his cock past my lips. This was so different. I was actually getting more aroused by the feel of him against my tongue and by his control over our sex, by his not trying so hard to please me with every touch. "Lick it," he was saying. "Lick it like ice cream.

"Show me how good it tastes." And so I told myself I would act like it was exciting to have my hair pulled, and to be made to suck cock…, and that was easy because it actually was exciting me! I was getting very turned on again, for the umpteenth time. Of course it helped that I had been so stimulated at the restaurant and had masturbated on the ride over here.

"You know I'm not going to let you swallow, and I'm not going to cum in you," he said. "Do you know why?" He had never cum in my mouth, probably because he knew I would not be willing, but the rules seemed to be changed tonight, so I didn't know …. "Because you don't deserve me in your mouth or cunt, that's why.

"Instead, I'm going to tit fuck you and cum all over you."

More new experiences! I heard a vibrator begin to hum and felt it being pushed into my pussy. It felt like it was on low, and it felt small like the vibrator I carry in my purse when I'm on a trip. He connected it somehow to the nipple chain. I could feel the vibrator being held into my cunt by the nipple chain, and I could feel the vibration in my pussy and very faintly the hum was carried through the chain to my nipples, too. It felt soooo good. I crooned: "Mmmmm."

He was suddenly straddling my chest, pouring warm liquid into my cleavage, pushing my tit flesh up and around his cock with his thumbs adding pressure to the clamps on my nipples, and he was thrusting, not at all gentle, not at all like John. It was intense, it was powerful. I could feel how hard his cock was. It was more rigid than I had felt it in a long while, too long. He moved faster and harder, and I lifted my head so my face came up and his cock slapped into my chin and mouth with each thrust he made.

I opened my mouth and tried to tongue him. I was so turned on, and I could feel my orgasm beginning to rise from everywhere in my body. The tension curled my toes, and the need for release rapidly grew intense, almost painful in that space between my legs where the vibrator hummed and sent tremors to my nipples. The moisture in my pussy was running hard. My cunt was rippling and sucking at the little vibrator and I was chanting: "Oh fuck. O fuck. O fuck me. Fuck me. Tit fuck."

My mouth was hungry for him, too. I didn't care about anything except cumming and making him cum. I pulled against the bonds that held me to the corners of the bed and could feel an orgasm take hold, and I started to squeal. I hardly recognized my own voice. I became inarticulate and shrill, and John grew even larger between my breasts, his cock so hot and I knew its head would be nearly purple and flaring. It was striking against my mouth, and as my own cum trailed off he reached an orgasm and cried out "Oh Fuck" every time his cock would spasm.

His sperm splashed off my chin and ran on my face and my throat, hot. I thought I could feel his cock pulsing through my breasts. I wanted it to last all night.

But as soon as he was done he wiped the last oozing of his cum on my chin, and he didn't rest or recover at all. He pulled away from me and left the bed, although I was still extremely turned on. The soft, insistent whirr of the vibrator went on in my pussy, and the ache and tingle as it pulled against the nipple chain felt so good. Little orgasms were lapping somewhere inside of me, not waves yet but always lapping in little ripples. Oh, my breasts would be so sore, but this did feel good.

And then I heard the door to the room open. I froze. Where was he going? The door stayed open for far too long. What was he doing? I heard him say something. And then I thought I could hear whispering. "Who's there, John?" I wondered if I would scream. The door closed. I couldn't hear anything. But then I thought I heard another whisper. I was desperate. "John?!!" I said, barely in control. I was no longer thinking of any fear but this. He surely would do nothing to hurt me, or humiliate me, or destroy our reputation. Surely, he wasn't going to go out of control.

A hot breath came next to my ear and rasped "Who's John?" I began to panic. "Ohhhh my God," I moaned. "Who is it?" I tried to think. Was it John's voice? Was he disguising it? Yes, it was surely a disguised voice. That rasp definitely sounded like someone talking through cloth. But was it his voice? Would he really do that to me, let someone watch me? Had I been such a bitch that he wanted to use me and wreak awful public humiliation on me? Or was this another frightening but unreal part of the elaborate tease and control he was bent on carrying out?

I enjoyed being his slut, I had loved the evening, but I didn't want to be used in public. I could hear another vibrator begin, and the bed started to move. I felt a tongue begin at my knees, and I instantly knew it was John with the way his tongue moved on my skin. Once I knew it was him, my body relaxed. He kissed his way up my thigh, and now the lust followed my fear in a rush, ever so much more intense than it had been. I thought that was so strange: for such strong emotions to charge back and forth roughshod over one another.

When the tongue reached my pussy, it stopped, and began at my other knee, and stopped again. I was in a sexual agony, wanting to cum even more than I had wanted it earlier if that was possible. Mind you, I haven't cum more than once in an evening since we were first married, but I wanted sex more than I could ever remember wanting it in my past. "Oh, please…," I whispered.

"My goodness, is that a Please that I hear?" This time it was definitely John's voice. I could feel the vibrator release from its connection to the nipple chain. It buzzed louder as it was slowly slipped out of my cunt and then just as slowly slid around my wet pussy lips. Briefly it paused on my clitoris, that spot which is always at the center of my orgasms. "Oh Please, please …." I was ready to say please or anything else he wanted.

"Now, I'm going to truly fuck you senseless," John said. His voice sounded strange but I recognized it as his passion. "They can just watch," he said. I thought I heard another whisper.

"Who, John? Who?" I was bolt alert again and back into my fear. Through my lust, the possibility of strange voices had leaped back into my mind. I was being bounced between fear and lust and each seemed to make the other more powerful. He was doing this to me deliberately. He knows I would never allow that. They could see the cum on my face where I was feeling it beginning to dry.

Something began to slide into me. It felt like a cock, but it seemed harder and I was being stretched so wide that it couldn't be John! It was far too big! My fear rushed ahead, and then, through the fear, I recognized the aroma of his familiar flesh and sex pressing down against me. It suddenly dawned on me, as I was being stretched and filled, that there was also vibration that was violating my tender inner flesh, and I realized that he must be wearing some kind of vibrator, a cock extension. He moaned. Of course, he could feel the vibration, too.

He began to move. He felt huge, not only much wider but longer. He plunged deep inside of me on each thrust. It was not the long, slow fuck I was accustomed to. He was pounding into me fast and passionately. I was stretched and bound and being rammed further up the bed against my bonds with each of his fast, violent thrusts.

"Oh my God, John. Fuck me," I said. "This feels so good. So good."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if someone really was watching, and then I didn't care. If they were, they were getting a great show. I was thrusting back at him in overwhelming lust, trying to push his vibrating cock deeper inside of me with each push. I wanted to feel it split me in half. Sweat rolled across my skin, and I felt cold sweat drip onto me as John held himself above me. We were on a mission together.

The thing he had inside of me hummed and throbbed, and he kept thrusting like he would break me in two. My pussy flooded with more wetness, and I could feel it seeping out of my lips past him and dripping down the crack to my ass and onto the mattress.

When the orgasm came, it surprised me. It didn't rise or grow. It exploded in my cunt. I could feel my pussy walls pulsing and grasping at the thing he had pushed inside of me. The fact that his cock was inside of it … the fact that he was determined to use my pussy for his pleasure seemed to throw me over the top. I heard myself yelling "Fuck me. Fuck Me."

Just at the peak of my orgasm, John took me even further, to places I didn't know I could go. I had forgotten the nipple clamps. He pulled them free from my breasts, and the pain was intense for a second, but it quickly mixed with pleasure. I screamed and didn't know whether it was pain or orgasm. I know I was incoherent.

"Fuck MEEEE. Oh Fuck. My. Cunt. Ohh.. Ohhhhh." There was a lot I no longer knew, but I do know the orgasm didn't stop. I don't know what made it keep going. I often cum when we have sex, and I had expected the usual emotion and release, but this began like waves, big waves breaking, and then it became a tide that lifted everything in its path. My cunt throbbed. Maybe it was a series of orgasms, I don't know.

Maybe I passed out.

I realized the vibrator had stopped. Nothing was in my pussy, thank God, and it was very sensitive. I could feel little ripples of pleasure still moving up my thighs all the way to somewhere near my cervix. My God, he had felt big. And my nipples were so tender and sore now that he had pulled the clamps from them and the blood had rushed back.

Something cool and wet, probably a wash cloth, was being applied to my breasts and soothing the ache and tingle still rippling through them. I certainly knew I had cum. I couldn't remember if he had. "Surely we are done," I thought. "I can't do any more."

"Did you cum, John?" I asked.

"No," he said quietly.

What a terrible shame, but how could I expect him to be able to cum twice in a night? That never happened for him. I asked if we were going home. "Sssshhhh," he said, his voice both soothing and warning me.

I felt warm oil trickling across my tender breasts and his soft palms gently rubbing it in. I was amazed. In spite of the heat and hurt of my nipples, it still felt good, not just comforting but also sexual. I could feel the start of another pleasant pulse within me. His hand rested at my groin. He used a fingertip on the hood of my clit and around it. Unlike much of the rest of me, that spot had not been abused, and I could feel myself begin to respond. "Oh," I said. "I could get used to this.