My Wife Doesn't Understand Me Ch. 02

He had climaxed without authorization. If he were one of the OTHER people I played with, I'd have beat him scarlet and tied his dick up with extra rough 7/8" jute rope for a transgression like that. But I was here as a favor to a friend, as a distraction for Dave, not as a true Dominatrix. It was a bitch, having to walk on eggshells like this.

"Put your fingers in me, baby, while you relax," I said. I didn't want him to lose his focus and start talking about comic books and science fiction TV series, which were his first loves. Gods forbid. It had been a thoroughly graceless evening so far, and this was par for the course. He'd spent a solid 15 minutes fucking around with the stereo in the bedroom, trying to get a CD to play through the cheap speakers, only to eventually announce that he'd have to put some music on in the living room and turn it up real high. Mr. Smooth. I really need music to fuck to – it inspires my mood, makes me lose track of time. And early on, he'd been moody and petulant about the fact that Sarah was out on her date – he nearly turned it into a whiny counseling session before I suggested that I'd heard he had some toys in a bedroom drawer and would love to see them...

Now less than an hour later, here we were, already having to work up to Round Two, and my pussy was tingling with frustration. I'd had to be all about him this whole time. Now his fingers were moving slowly in and out of me, and again I had to grudgingly admit that he had some skills. He crooked one finger slightly to slide against my g-spot on the way by, not too hard, and circled his thumb over my clitoris. He was still bound, so he struggled a bit with the angle, but I wasn't going to make him keep it up for too long.

I reached for the short flogger and draped it around his thighs, whisking gently back and forth. His legs trembled a bit, and his cock actually started to stir, just barely. Good.

"Nice, baby, very nice," I cooed and meant it. His fingers were doing skillful little things to me and a glimmer of hope for climax shone in the distance. But maybe I'd tease myself for a bit first. We had plenty of time.

I whisked him a bit with the flogger, using the threat and suspense of that tool so close to his vulnerable balls to take him up a notch. His fingers stayed active, and I felt my heat rising around them as he moved back and forth between quick deep thrusts and little circles of a fingertip around my clit. We were both moaning now, if for different reasons. Little tongues of fire flickered around my pussy, and heat spread through my thighs. I pinched my own nipples, hard, and let my lips play around the handle of the flogger I still held.

No fucking way was I going to suck his cock, since among other things it would take him up into another premature liftoff again, and besides, I liked something a bit thicker in pretty much any of my orifices. But I needed the feel of something. The padded vinyl bicycle-handle end of my favorite short flogger (I'm the sort of grrrl who has her own personal toy designer, bless him, and a creative motherfucker he is, too...) was a nice smooth treat for my mouth as I rocked back and forth on Dave's fingers. I pictured a big Viking boy, wide-shouldered, maybe 6'5", grabbing the back of my head and rocking my mouth onto his huge cock as he chanted, "Do it bitch. Suck it. Do it bitch..." It was working.

Okay. I was hot again, and I was ready to play. I didn't want to come yet. I wanted to despise Dave just enough to play with him for a good bit longer, and if I came I might feel too amiable to fuck with him any more.

I turned him over on his hands and knees, still bound at the wrists. His chest was all the way down on the bed, so just for good measure I looped the rope back up on the headboard again. The lube had gotten knocked on the floor, and as I retrieved it I spotted the long black rubber dildo he'd managed to direct me to earlier. Another annoying moment from earlier in the evening – he was already tied up, and here I am searching around the disorderly dresser drawers for the various sex toys. Not there? Well, try that third drawer on the left, then... Okay, wait, maybe it's in... What kind of fucknut doesn't remember where he keeps his toys? There's something particularly unsexy about rooting around in someone else's socks and t-shirts. It had taken me a while to get back in the mood after that.

The dildo in question was very specifically designed for back door work – a weird handle shaped like a naked lady (gads), ending in a solid 10 inches of tapering, flexy black rubber, maybe an inch and a half thick at the base and fingertip-thin at the end. Nicely designed, I thought, although with a guy like this I'm always tempted toward the more, let's say, punitive thicknesses in my toys. In this case I was wishing for a nightstick... But this would do, and might be interesting.

His cock and balls dangled down between his spread thighs, and I grabbed a scarf laying nearby and wrapped it randomly but snugly around his package: base of the cock, then both cock and balls, then wrapped the loose ends up around his shaft several times. That would help the blood flow a bit, get him hard faster. He moaned, first in surprise and then perhaps a bit worried about how tightly I was wrapping him. Perhaps he was aware enough to notice that I was a teency bit annoyed. Then I squeezed out some gel into my hand, trying desperately to think of some distracting patter to get him back into the mood again.

"You know how I am," I cooed. "I can't stay away from this ass, can't get enough of that sensation... maybe you'll let me in again, if I go real, real slow?" I circled my fingers around his hole, hoping he'd maybe be fooled into thinking it was my tongue. Little licks, little invasions in, just half an inch and out again, fingertip flickers... He was responding. I pulled the ends of the scarf loose and stroked his cock, which was, praise be, getting good and hard.

Hm. This toy was pretty wobbly. I set the rubber tip against his ass and he moaned, but I wanted more inspiration. "Feel that? Feel that up against you? Can you tell how much I want to fuck you? Want to shove it deep, all the way up? You want me to give it to you, baby?"

Oh yes my lady, oh yeah, blah blah blah. Better. He was getting genuinely enthusiastic again. "Show me," I said. Move back against it, put it in you, take it." He strained his hips back against the dildo and I realized I was going to have to steady it in the middle – it was so flexible it just bent, rather than going in. I grabbed it and shoved against him, sending it another inch or two. He moaned rewardingly. I sent it in a bit more and quickened my hand, banging him fast and intense for a few seconds and then pulling it all the way out. He howled, and his hips bucked back trying to find the wand again. I slid my hand up and down on his cock a few times, reminding him of THAT part, and he moaned gratifyingly, thrusting into the air. Nice and hard now. Good.

One way or another, I was going to need to get fucked, and seriously, before the night was over. And I was already thinking that it was going to need to be something bigger than his small-to-middlin' dick, maybe 6 inches, sure, but way too skinny for my tastes. Hm. I sent the dildo back into his ass again, almost ruminatively stroking it up to about 6 inches now, keeping up my verbal patter. Yes baby, take it, take it deep for me, let me fuck you, let me all the way in. 7 inches, then 8. Damn – he could seriously take it...

There was yet another toy around here somewhere, one that we hadn't gotten around to yet, and it had potential. This one WAS nearly a nightstick. Nice and thick. Just my size. There were only the technicalities to work out.

But there was some serious potential in that tongue of his, and that helped. If I could control the situation, maybe... but I was going to wear him out and spend some time getting my vengeful jollies first.

I had kept my arm moving while I was ruminating, and he was arching his back, begging for me not to stop. I drove in a little deeper and he actually growled – I knew that he was close already, that if I touched his cock at all he'd go over the edge again. I hadn't been paying attention, really, and between the scarf that still tied him and my hand rolling around the slick head of his cock, he'd gotten thoroughly worked up. Had to hold him off for a while.

Where was that butt plug I'd dug out of a random drawer earlier? He hadn't mentioned it; I'd run across it looking for the long black thingy, which was obviously his favorite toy. But the plug was the thing now, if I wanted to keep him ready and focused. It was pretty thick too – perhaps it would be just a teency bit punitive for him.

Had to act like this was for HIM. So I cooed at him, as I slid the wand in and out of his ass (damn, he could really take the length; I couldn't resist a flash of admiration for his abilities.) "I want to take you up another notch. Can you handle it? Can you handle turning me on that much? I want to be bigger, fuck you harder..." I got some very satisfying moans and whimpers, and had lost the need to fuck with making him call me by my honorific or anything. Okay then. I slicked up the plug, although more lube was hardly necessary after everything I'd done to him so far, and pressed it against his ass. I think it was then that he realized what I was holding and he may have started to protest, but I grabbed his straining cock with one hand, just for operant conditioning, and slid the whole thing slowly and steadily into him as I stroked the entire length of his cock. He yelled like a wildcat, but he didn't come, and when I gave a few experimental shoves on the plug he bucked and moaned exactly as I'd hope. That would keep him on edge for a while, and I could perhaps pursue my own satisfaction for a bit.

I took the rope loop back down off the headboard and grabbed his legs to turn him over. He was hysterical, moaning as the plug shifted inside him. I poked at it again, just a couple of times to test, and he writhed as his cock leaped in response. Good. I positioned his hands just above his head, and then I grabbed the big dildo and wrapped both his hands around it.

"Close your eyes, pet," I said. "I'm going to take you on a trip, and you're going to make me come and come and come and come. You like that idea?" Moans, whimpers, oh yeah oh please... I turned around and straddled his face, facing down toward his torso. I moved up a bit and settled myself down a bit on the dildo, oh yeah, very hot. Maybe this could be a satisfying evening after all. I settled forward, so that I was on hands and knees. "Fuck me with that. Nice and slow. Make it deep, baby, make it really good for me." I could feel his face straining up toward my pussy, wanting to taste it. But I couldn't let him go there yet. I wanted to ride this for a while and he had a pretty good tongue.

Leaning over his cock, which I didn't dare touch for fear he'd go straight over the edge, I lost myself for a while in the sensation of getting soundly fucked by the huge dildo. Were his arms getting tired, still tied in that awkward position? I didn't particularly care, but maybe it would make him more effective if I untied him. How to do it without stopping the action for too long, or at least while doing something really mean to him to balance it out?

I rode the wand for a while longer, getting lost in the thick shaft and the beat of it, in and out. He was good at that – he stayed consistent, went deep, used a nice dip-and-arch motion that hit some fine spots. I was moaning and urging him on, don't stop, oh yeah...

The double dildo. That was the key. One more bout of serious meanness before I actually let him get off. Why in the world he owned a thing like that was beyond me, but well, I had gotten that out too, and laid it nearby. And it gave the Grinch a wonderful, awful idea.

But I wasn't quite ready to leave this particular thing just yet. Screw his tired wrists – he'd manage. And maybe he'd have some sore muscles tomorrow to remind him of me. "Harder, fuck me harder, baby," I moaned, now genuinely pleased as he slammed the wand deeper and faster. His tongue didn't stop either; it kept making those lovely steady little flickers on my clit, and I settled lower onto his face so he'd have better access.

Sometimes, my first orgasm of any given evening only seems to make me hungrier and meaner, and this one was no exception. In my head, I let the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir have their twisted will with the front four of the Miami Dolphins and a couple of frustrated nuns, and soon I felt my body climb up to a peak. I slammed back against the dildo, howling and – I realized later – leaving deep fingernail marks in Dave's thighs as I came, shaking all over and nearly smothering him with juice.

Suddenly I was in that fierce animal state, so hungry for more cock that I could barely think, and I didn't have time for diplomacy, or even communication. My mind focused purely on the technicalities of the next operation – the double dildo, and how I was going to use it on Dave and on myself at the same time.

Minutes before, I might have been concerned with making him comfortable in some way, or even perhaps trying to get him off, but now he was, in my mind, simply a way to hold the toy for me. Oddly, I'd never had the opportunity to work with a double dildo before, much as I'd fantasized about it over the years, and all my fantasies about that particular toy had involved women, not men.

But fuck it. I needed a cock inside me now, and perhaps I also needed to make him hurt, just enough to give me the soundtrack of pleasure/pain induced howling and moaning that has always been my favorite Music to Fuck To.

The things I said to him were no longer play-acting, either. I couldn't think straight enough to be diplomatic any more. "Oh hell yeah, baby. Oh fuck yeah, that was good, and now you're going to get fucked, and fucked hard. I'm going to bang you with a big fat cock and you're going to take it."

I ripped the scarf off his dick and slapped it a couple of times, which took him completely by surprise. Now I was genuinely a domme, had gone into that head so far after my various frustrations of the night that I totally lost the fact that this wasn't a client. I just didn't care anymore.

He yelped, and then moaned as if he might actually have gotten off on the sensation of getting his cock slapped. It got suddenly harder too, jumping and pulsing. He was close to coming. Fuck that. Whether he came again or not was no concern to me now. I slapped it again, harder, and he arched up into it. Damn, the boy could take some abuse. I couldn't help another flash of admiration.

I lifted myself off of him, and off of the dildo he'd been holding. He'd continued to pound me with it, which was only serving to make me more enraged with hunger. I could hear myself, distantly, growling with wild desire for more cock. I grabbed his legs and flipped him over on his belly, and he yelped as the butt plug shifted inside him and his maddened cock rubbed against the sheets.

I grabbed the plug and slid it out of him. At least I was still conscious enough to be gentle about that – a good domme never gets so out of control that she loses track of safety... Then I grabbed the double dildo and kicked his legs as far apart as they'd go. Perhaps he was genuinely worried now. So be it.

I can't help it, and I don't know where it started for me, but I absolutely love forcing a guy's ass open and shoving something thick into him. I'm not even a strap-on grrrl; I like holding a dildo in my own hand and assaulting him with it. Maybe it's the sounds they make, maybe it's that moment when they lose their defensiveness and start to arch their spine and take it even deeper of their own accord, maybe it's my way of lashing out against all the stupid culture that says a guy must be a screaming fag if he likes his ass played with. Or maybe it's just purely esthetic and selfish, like this moment, when I grab his ass with both hands and open him up, make him sweat as he waits for it, when I shove his knees apart with my own knees and then kneel on his thighs just to make sure he doesn't squirm.

I rubbed a fingertip roughly around his asshole, which was dripping with froth and lube. His hips bucked up to meet it and I knew he was ready for anything. I set the thick tip of the dildo against him and then vibrated it, a quick little rhythm that sent it in just an inch or so. Even the butt plug hadn't been this big, and he groaned as the head of the toy met the first ring of muscle. Go easy, said a sane voice in my head, which I recognized as my first male dom and teacher, who had given me many wise pieces of advice as he trained me up to be a professional Angry Grrrl. Go easy, said Fred in my memory. Don't break your toys. Okay okay. I'll go slow. The slamming comes next, but not yet.

In, further and further, as I bumped and rocked the dildo and watched it slide, getting shiny and slick, impossibly large for such a tight space. I noticed vaguely that he'd managed to work his hands free from the ropes and was gripping the pillows, white-knuckled. His voice said he was okay – he was howling and whimpering, but there was no sound of real pain or any signal that he wanted me to stop. Ride it, baby, I growled through gritted teeth, as I watched it disappear further in with every thrust. Ride it ride it ride it, take it all, fuck that cock... and he did, bucking his hips upward to take the dildo even further, all the while singing in that lovely whine of someone completely over the edge in sensation.

I couldn't wait any longer – the other end of the dildo was thrust out too temptingly to resist, and I needed to feel it, needed to take myself over the edge once more. I turned around to face his feet, holding the dildo so it didn't slip out of him, and slid the other end into my pussy, hard and deep and fast. And on my hands and knees, with my eyes closed so I couldn't see his messy bedroom or his catfish-white calves, I rode the thick dildo, shoving it down into him and up into me over and over. Fuck yeah. I could hear him, as if from a distance, and myself, groaning and whining in tandem as the dildo slid back and forth. I kept one hand down on it and could feel how my own downthrusts were fucking him impossibly deep with the other end.

I rocked back onto the huge cock, over and over, moving up toward coming again, and this time I didn't have to picture any celebrities. My rage and heat came from pure sensation and idea – the feel of the thick dildo sliding in and out of me, and the knowledge that the equally thick other end was invading his ass, driving deep down into him every time I moved. Fuck yeah. Oh fuck yeah.

Then suddenly the sensation shifted, and it wasn't me moving any more, it was him, moving his hips upward over and over again, using the cock in his ass to fuck me harder with every stroke. My mind exploded, and I felt his hand shove mine out of the way so that he could take hold of the dildo himself. He actually managed to get up onto his knees, then, and he began to truly rock his ass back against me. I heard him start to talk, and it was no longer the whine and moan of a man being taken but the growl of a man truly fucking someone. "Take it, bitch." Was that actually his voice? "Come on, bitch, take all of it. Take it deep, you bitch, fuck that cock like you mean it."

I couldn't make my mind wrap around the shift, but I didn't care. This was, perhaps, what I'd always wanted to hear from a man in that position – not begging and whining but a challenge. Masculine, real. He was growling toward his own orgasm now, and almost shouting at me as he neared the edge. "Fuck me, bitch. Harder, or can't you handle it? C'mon, you bitch, come for me. Come on that big thick cock. Come on my ass. Take it as deep as I can, shove it in..." and then his orgasm was on him and the rising moan that began it sent me over the edge for real, and we bucked back against each other for what seemed like hours, coming and screaming and growling. It was the best bang I'd had in months, the kind that leaves you laughing right at the end, the kind that makes you forget your name, forget everything.