The Sin Wife

Anyway, his cock nearly drives me crazy, especially after Lenore's abuse got me so close to the edge during the day. I can't stop myself whimpering and moaning. I want to touch my nipples, because I feel almost like I might be able to get off if I do that while he's fucking me so good, but I need to cover my mouth so I don't bother the other women too much, I'm being so loud.

Besides, it probably wouldn't work anyway. They're sore as hell, swollen from Lenore yanking on them. But every time he thrusts in and they brush across the fabric of the sheets, it sends little tingles down through my body. I can hear his balls slapping the metal of the chastity belt, too, and imagine how they'd be slapping my pussy if the belt wasn't in the way.

By the time Peter finishes with me, my pussy is squeezing and dripping like a leaky faucet and I'm shaking. Once he leaves the room, I bury my face deep in my pillow to muffle a moan of pure frustration, pounding my fist into the mattress and rocking my hips.

I don't get much sleep that night. When I do, I drift in and out of frustrating and weird dreams: one where I'm getting fucked in the pussy, but my pussy keeps getting more and more numb the closer I get to coming, until I can just feel it twitching and can't feel the cock inside me at all; one where my chastity belt is off for some reason and I'm running around, frantically trying to find somewhere private so I can touch myself, but there's people in every room I run in to; one where I'm sitting at the dinner table and a dog or something is under the table licking my pussy, and I'm trying not to let on what's happening, trying to sneak an orgasm right in front of everybody, but it keeps stopping every time I get close to coming.

Between dreams, I wake up whimpering and tossing in my bed, my pussy fluttering and aching in the belt, my ass and nipples sore and burning. It's not very restful.

***

The next morning, I know I'm in trouble. I can feel how slippery my pussy is when I get up, and I'm so wet that I've left a little spot on the bedsheets where I've leaked through the belt. It's embarrassing, like I peed the bed.

Charity sees it and tuts. "At least it won't be me today," she says. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I mutter. Really, it is; we all get our turn. I'm mostly irritable because my pussy is still clenching, my clit throbbing, like it's asking why I haven't touched it once when it's been begging so hard all night.

I allow myself to fantasize briefly that maybe I'm so turned on that just the touch of the cotton swab when Leader purifies me will be enough to tip me over. It won't happen; I've had the thought before, and I've seen the other ladies in that state, where their clit is standing up and twitching when Leader presses the cotton swab to it and they can't help thrusting into it. He's too quick with that damned thing, and one touch is never enough.

Unsurprisingly, I'm a total mess during the inspection. When Leader pulls my belt off, I drip so much fluid that it gets all down the inside of my thighs. I don't bother to hold back my groan when he pokes and prods around the lips of my sex; I'm so sensitive, and I'm already in trouble anyway. The other Sin Wives look away, except for Belle, who tuts and shakes her head.

As expected, Leader finishes the inspection and then locks the other three women back in their belts. But then he does something different.

"You three may go, see to your chores. Rebecca," that's me, "put on a dress and come with me."

"Um." I hesitate, squirming in place. I'm not about to ask why he didn't use the hot oil on me, but I have to ask about something else. "Should I...put the belt back on? Leader?"

"That won't be necessary. Just a dress, please."

I look at the other women. Belle looks piously smug, like she figures I've earned some extra punishment by being so sinful; Sarah-Anne and Charity look just as confused as I am.

But I can't exactly say no. So I go and find a dress and pull it on, hiding my stiff nipples and sticky thighs. The brush of the fabric over my waist is intense.

I'm briefly reminded of one of my dreams, the one where my belt is off and I just need to find somewhere private to masturbate. I wonder if Leader will buy that I need to pee.

Probably not.

"Come with me," he says, and I follow him out of our room and then out of the main complex of buildings. I feel really naked, leaving the room without my belt on, even covered with the dress; my pussy is bare, the wind stirring up under the skirt of the dress and teasing my wet lips.

We're heading for a small building at the far end of the property. Most people call it the honeymoon cabin; you get sent out there with your spouse when Leader decides it's time for you to have a baby. Charity and I have snuck over there a couple of times, just to listen to what it sounds like when a woman is getting her pussy fucked good.

The sight of the cabin makes my stupid, dripping cunt all fluttery, just because of the sounds of pleasure I remember coming out of it. I don't have a husband to fuck my pussy, though. "Um. Where are we going, Leader?" I dare to ask.

"There is a man visiting today," he says, patting my arm. "A very generous man. He's made a very large donation to our community."

It takes a second for me to understand what Leader's saying, and then it clicks. He's whoring me out. Some strange man is coming all the way out from town--maybe from even further away?--to fuck me.

"I understand, Leader," I whisper, because he's looking at me. He smiles and pats my arm again.

"I thought that you would, Rebecca. You're doing a wonderful thing for all of us."

I should probably feel gross, or scared, but I'm not as deluded as Belle. I know that what we do for the community is already pretty much whoring, even if money doesn't change hands over us usually. It's a little scary that it's a man I don't know, but I don't think Leader would let in anyone who really wanted to hurt me.

Besides, my mind is fixated on one thing: if the belt is off, that probably means this guy wants to fuck my pussy. My whole body throbs at the thought.

Leader unlocks the door of the honeymoon cabin, and we go inside. I've never been inside before; it's just a little one-room affair, a bedroom with a bath off in the back. The bed is nice and big, sized for two people to cuddle together.

There's handcuffs hanging off the headboard, though.

My eyes go to those right away. They look fancy, made of black leather or something like that, not the kind of thing that you find in our community. I don't think they're a normal part of the honeymoon cabin. Were they sent by the "generous donor"?

"You can take the dress off now," Leader says, touching my back with one of his wrinkled hands. I nod and pull the dress over my head, folding it and tucking it away on a shelf in the corner of the room; then, at Leader's direction, I lay on my back on the bed, and he straps the cuffs onto my wrists, securing my hands over my head.

"There. Are you very comfortable?" Leader asks, as if this is all normal. I clear my throat and try not to squirm on the bed. The feeling of the bedsheets against my bare skin, especially between my thighs, is driving me nuts.

"Maybe a little cold?"

"Ahh," he says, like he should have thought of that. He shuffles over to a door next to the bathroom, and opens up a linen closet. He pulls out a blanket and brings it over, spreading it across my naked body. I try not to shudder as the weight of it settles over my twitching slit. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Be patient, now, he should be here in an hour or two."

And then Leader leaves me alone in the cabin, shackled up.

At first, it's frankly like a little slice of heaven; I just get to lay there, not doing any chores, luxuriating in the feeling of being completely nude. It's not something I ever get to feel outside of inspections. Just the sensation of my pussy being totally bare under the blanket is nice.

But the novelty wears off after half an hour or so, and I start really, really wishing I wasn't cuffed to the bed.

It's kind of my own fault. I make a mistake, because I start doing that imagination thing again to entertain myself: I imagine what I would do if I had this whole cabin to myself, my belt off, and if I weren't cuffed to the bed. I start imagining how I would lay there and touch myself, how I'd rub my fingers up and down my clit, stick my fingers in my pussy just to feel them. I've never had anything in my pussy before, and I'm so hungry to know what it feels like.

Once I start thinking like that, I can't stop. My pussy starts dripping and squeezing away, demanding to know why I'm not doing all those things I'm thinking about. I whimper and squirm on the bed, and then I start humping my hips up into the weight of the blanket on top of me. It's not enough to do more than tease me, the fabric slipping around the tingling outermost lips of my sex, but it feels so good that I can't stop doing it.

So that's what I'm doing when the stranger walks into the cabin: squirming around on the bed, humping like a horny idiot. I try to stop as soon as the door opens, but the first thing he does is laugh at me, making me blush.

He's not exactly especially handsome. Kind of plain, honestly; he looks kind of nerdy, with long, skinny limbs and a pair of round glasses. His clothes are nicer than anything that the men in the community usually wear, though, and that makes him look nice and put-together.

Honestly, I don't care too much how he looks, as long as he's got a working dick. Hell, just some working fingers, if he's willing to rub my pussy with them.

"Aren't you pretty," he says approvingly as he approaches the bed, which makes me blush more. That's not the kind of thing that people say in our community, especially not to a Sin Wife. Maybe men say it to the woman they're married to, in private, but you don't go around talking about how a person looks.

He tugs the blanket off, revealing my naked body. I shiver, because the room feels even colder now that I've been snuggled up under the blanket, and because I realize he can see how wet I am. He looks right at it, right between my legs, and not with the clinical eye of Leader's daily inspections; he looks turned on. I bite my lip and try not to squirm too much.

I expect him to ask my name or something, but instead he asks, "when was the last time you had an orgasm, sweetheart?"

"Um." I have to count back, based on my age. "Four years?"

He hums and climbs onto the bed, kneeling next to me. He's still completely dressed, and I can't stop blushing. The color is going all the way down my chest now. Everything about this--the cuffs, the fact that I'm naked in front of him with the lights on, and especially my exposed pussy--make this situation more erotic than any of the times I've been fucked in the dark in my little bed next to the other Sin Wives.

He puts a hand on the inside of my thigh, and I gasp and squirm up into his touch, my pussy clenching. He must be able to see it, because he smiles. "Fantastic. And this pretty little cunt of yours, it's never been touched?" His hand creeps up my thigh a bit higher, not quite touching the part of me that he's talking about, and I have to groan before I answer him.

"That's--that's right. We're not allowed to be touched there."

"But you want it, don't you?" he asks, and I groan again and nod. He smiles. "You want me to fuck your wet cunt, sweetheart? You want me to take your virginity? You want to come on my cock?" I can only nod over and over again, trying to rub my thighs together, to get any stimulation at all on my prickling pussy, but his hand is in the way. I whimper.

"Please. Please? Will you do that? Will you fuck me?" I beg. It's not very dignified; I don't care. I need it.

He laughs, which isn't really an answer, but I have to assume it's a yes, or else I'll go nuts. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little jar of something and unscrews the lid. "Spread your legs, sweetheart."

"What is that?" I ask, wary. "Does it burn?"

"Just for a few seconds." He doesn't answer the first question. It doesn't matter; I'm spreading my legs anyway, because he'll have to touch me to put it on me, and I can't resist that. I angle my knees out until my pussy is gaping open for him.

"Good girl," he says, which makes me blush again, and then he scoops up some of the cream on his fingers and touches his fingers lightly--so, so maddeningly lightly--to my clit.

"Oh, oh," I whimper, throwing my head back against the pillow. It's been so long since I've felt anything other than the quick wipe of a cotton swab on that most sensitive part of me. I can feel it responding to his touch, twitching and flexing, like it's trying to entice him into rubbing more firmly. The cream feels cold, but his fingers are so firm, and my clit is so sensitive that I can feel the little ridges of his fingertips as he brushes them over me. "Oh--I'm--"

Before I can even say that I'm about to come, he lifts his fingers away, tutting at me. I shudder and whine. "It's alright," he says reassuringly, dipping into the little jar for more cream. "I'll give you an orgasm, sweetheart. Eventually."

"Please," I beg, helpless. His fingers come back after a second, but he's done with my clit; they're lower down now, smearing the cream across my sensitive labia minora, then pressing up into my dripping hole.

I gasp at the sensation of his fingers entering me, circling just inside the rim. "Oh! Oh!"

"Good?" he asks redundantly, and I nod, whimpering and squeezing down on his fingertips. He presses his fingers deeper in, two of them at once, and I groan and shudder.

The cream on my clit, where he applied it first, is starting to tingle and burn a little. It's not bad, though; nothing like the purifying pepper oil. It makes my clit feel swollen and needy, desperate for the attention of his fingers again.

He pulls his fingers out of my pussy, then dips them in again with just a bit more of the cream, smearing it around in me. I'm shaking a little now. This is more stimulation than I've ever had in such a short period of time; I'm overwhelmed, all of my higher brain functions shutting down, and all I can think about is how bad I want him to fuck me. It's an animal urge, like I'm just a beast in heat trying to get bred by the nearest male. I want him to flip me over on my stomach and rut into me hard and fast.

When he removes his fingers again and gets off the bed, I can't help but whimper, rubbing my thighs together. The burning on my clit is starting to fade as the other places he's smeared the cream start to ignite, and by comparison, my clit feels less sensitive, almost numb. I hope he'll touch it more soon.

He walks to the bathroom. It's on the same side of the room as the headboard of the bed, so I can't really see him in there, but I can hear the water running; he's washing the cream off his hands, probably. After a minute or so, he returns with a wet washcloth in his hands. I spread my legs again, hoping that's what he wants, and he smiles. "Good girl."

When he presses the cloth against my pussy, wiping the cream away, I'm confused for just a second before a horrible realization dawns.

It's not that my clit feels numb by comparison to the burning: it IS numb.

The rest of my pussy is going numb, too. I can feel the pressure of his hand, and some of the heat from the warm water on the cloth, but otherwise it's like everything down there is just turned off.

"Oh no," I gasp, dismayed. "No, no, no!"

He laughs at my distress. "Calm down. You're alright."

"I can't feel anything! What is it? What did you do to me?"

"It's just a numbing cream." He's wiping my pussy clean, sticking the washcloth up inside my hole to scoop out the cream. I barely feel a thing. "It's only temporary."

"For how long?"

"Just a couple of hours," he says, digging deeper into me. "Oh, that's cute. Your clit is still twitching. A lot of women's clits stop responding when they're numb."

He pulls the washcloth out of me--I squirm, because it feels so weird, like something clinical and yet simultaneously erotic, something that should really turn me on, but there's no pleasure coming with it--and then touches my clit. He rubs it and pinches it, taps it with his nail, playing with it like a toy. I don't feel anything.

I start sobbing.

"Aww, sweetheart," he says, and reaches up to wipe the tears off my cheeks. "It'll be alright."

"I can't come like this," I sob. "You said--you said--"

"I said you would come, and you will. I paid for six hours with you. There's no need to rush." He pats my cheek, then palms the visible bump of his erection in his pants with his other hand. "Well, no need for you. I'm going to rush all I want."

He gets off the bed again, this time to undress. I can't help staring; even with all the men I've been fucked by, I haven't seen very many of them naked, since it all happens in the dark. This is the most skin I've ever seen on a man before. He's not super muscular, not like I assume a lot of the men in our community are, but he's in shape; kind of slim, with a little softness around his stomach.

His cock is hard. I can't stop staring at it. It doesn't look like much, but I know looks are deceiving; any cock feels huge once it's in my ass, and I expect that'll go double for my untouched, aching pussy.

Except my pussy isn't aching right now. It's numb. Maybe it's squeezing away down there; it's so numb that I can't tell. I whimper.

He stops to roll something onto his dick, some kind of thin, clear plastic sheath that I've never seen before. I wonder if it's to protect his dick from the numbing cream, or if it's to stop him from getting me pregnant. Maybe both.

When he climbs back onto the bed and kneels between my legs, I can't help it; I start whimpering again, over and over, like a dog begging at the dinner table. I can't feel anything down there, but I still feel a powerful, all-consuming need to get his dick inside me.

"Patience," he says, like he's scolding me. I kind of want to kick him, because he's the one who wanted me tied down so I couldn't touch myself, who's been teasing me and numbing me. He wants me impatient!

But if I kick him, he probably won't fuck me.

So instead I just draw my knees up in the air, spreading them as wide as I can, trying to encourage him to get on with it already. He smiles and pats my pussy--I barely feel anything at all, but I can hear from the sound of it that I'm still wet and dripping down there--and then grabs an extra pillow. "Lift your hips."

I do, and he slides the pillow under me, propping my pussy higher in the air. Then, finally, FINALLY, he climbs on top of me and slides his dick inside.

I can't feel it, exactly--just a sort of pinching pressure, a sensation that I don't know what to do with--but I can see the look of bliss on his face, like my pussy feels amazing around his cock.

"Oh," I whimper, my whole body shuddering, because I want to feel that good, too. I want it so bad. My stomach cramps, and I must be squeezing down on him really hard; he groans with pleasure.

When he bottoms out in me, I feel it. He wasn't able to get the cream all the way up in me, and there's a certain amount of pressure that even the cream can't erase. It feels kind of like getting fucked in the ass, but worse, more of a tease. I can already tell I won't be able to come from it.

He just sits there for a while, the tip of his dick pressed up against the least numb part of my insides, and hums. "Yeah, like that," he says, like he's praising me. "Keep squeezing just like that."

I couldn't even tell I was squeezing. I'm not doing it on purpose. I start to cry again.

"It's alright, sweetheart. That's alright," he says soothingly, like I'm a child crying about something stupid, and he just has to wait for me to get over it. "You're so fucking tight. You're amazing."