tagBDSMTransformation

Transformation

byrlfj©

Richard Secourt watched his television screen raptly, half in awe and half in amusement. Bouncing across the screen was an amazingly awesome blonde beauty with the biggest set of tits he had ever seen. She was wearing a one piece red swimsuit and running down the beach, and those immense jugs bounced up, down, and sideways. How she avoided putting an eye out was beyond him.

It was then that the back door slammed and a feminine roar bellowed out, "You bastard! Where were you?!"

Richard came out of his trance and looked up from the television wildly. "Oh, shit!" he muttered to himself. He had completely forgotten that he had to pick up his wife, Wendy, from the tennis club she had been at. Her car had broken down and a friend had given her a lift, but he had promised to meet her and bring her home. Glancing at the clock on the wall above the TV, he saw that it was almost two hours late! He had, in fact, been on the way out when the HBO channel that he had been watching announced the afternoon feature, which seemed to be along the lines of 'Beach Bimbos In Lust." He had watched for a second, then the second dragged into minutes, and he completely forgot Wendy. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he settled back to watch the Saturday afternoon soft porn.

He barely had time to stand up when Wendy burst into the living room. She had a full head of steam and was roaring down the track. "You BASTARD! You were supposed to pick me up two hours ago! Where the hell have you been?!" As Richard began gurgling out an apoplectic response, Wendy turned slightly and noticed the television set. The set now showed a pair of bimbos walking across the beach in minuscule bikinis. Whirling to face her husband, her face red and enraged, she screamed, "You goddamned son of a bitch!" and swung a fist at him.

Sputtering an apology, Richard blocked Wendy's first arm, but was caught off guard when she threw a second punch. Thrown off balance, he felt himself falling against the couch. He reached out and grabbed Wendy's arm, pulling her with him, and the pair twisted and fell onto the sofa heavily. Richard found himself laying atop his wife, who was face down on the cushions and screaming at him incoherently.

He liked the view. Wendy was still in her tennis outfit, a white cotton top and a sports bra, and loose white shorts that he could see her thin bikini panties through. He smiled at the sight of the shorts pulled taut against her ass, and idly reached out a hand to caress it. Wendy Secourt was a fine looking woman, slim with a trim build and perky tits, a deliciously shaped ass, and the most perfect legs her husband had ever seen. Now, as he glanced down at his wife's posterior, he wondered to himself why he would think they were having a problem, and why he was starting to sniff around that little secretary at work. This was just fine...

"You bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing now!? Take your hands off me you son of a bitch! Get off me and let me up!" Wendy yelled at him, breaking his concentration on her butt, struggling beneath him. "Get up!"

Something inside Richard snapped. He could feel it breaking, along with his patience and forbearance. He had never hit a woman in his life, had never been tempted to, and had been disgusted by men who proved their masculinity by beating their wives and girlfriends. Now, a hint of their rage came to him, and he enjoyed it. Bringing his hand down hard on the taut cloth, he gave his wife a resounding SMACK, and said, "Bitch! I'll damn well get up when I feel like it!" Spanking her a second time, he delighted in the way her asscheeks shook and yelled back at her, "You're my wife, and if I want to touch your ass, I damned well will!"

Wendy could not believe the change which had come over her husband. Richard was the most gentle man in the world. Too gentle, in truth, since she had recently begun an affair with a man from her office who was more...forceful. He made her do things that Richard never asked for, and she craved the attention. Pushing up against the cushions, she fought back against Richard, and was astonished when a third SMACK rang out, a hard slap on her ass that pushed her back down.

"I SAID TO KNOCK IT OFF!" he roared. Wendy sank down into the cushions, half in fear, and Richard looked down upon her pleasantly. This was much better, he thought to himself, watching her move as she breathed hard, her buttocks glowing pinkly through the thin white cotton shorts. Realizing that he had a raging hardon, he knew the best way to take care of it. Grasping the waistband of Wendy's shorts, he pulled them down, then repeated the process with her panties.

"You bastard! Take your hands off me! If you think that I would let you..."

"SHUT UP!" he roared. He fumbled his own pants open and pushed them down far enough so that his cock sprang into the open. Wendy continued to struggle beneath him, trying to push him away, but Richard wanted it all. Moving over her completely, he pushed her legs apart and then shoved his cock inside her from behind. Bucking against his wife, he pushed inside her until he was completely in, then surveyed his situation with a massive smile.

Wendy gasped at the unwanted and forceful intrusion. Her pussy devoured the cock eagerly, throbbing and spasming around it, as her breath became ragged. She sighed as Richard began fucking her fiercely. This was undoubtedly her favorite way to screw, and the cock rampaging through her cunt was driving her nuts! Even as she rebelled at her rape, she bucked back against her husband, urging him on.

Richard Secourt began moaning and groaning as he fucked his wife's cunt. 'She must really have wanted it!', he thought to himself, noting that her pussy had been soaking wet when he entered it. She must have creamed her pants right there on the couch! He slammed into his wife, fucking her madly, while she moaned quietly. Finally it was too much. Arching his back he thrust his cock into her as deep as he could; grunting loudly, his cock sprayed her pussy with his hot come.

Richard collapsed on his wife's back, breathing heavily, and moved slightly to one side, pulling his cock from her pussy. It slid out with an audible PLOP, and their come began seeping out of her gaping cunt. "That was pretty good, hun.," he commented. He looked down at his wife's ass, noticing pleasurably that his cock was still half stiff. Maybe a second bout would develop.

"You bastard!" she shrieked. "You raped me!" She began struggling out from under him.

"Rape! That was the most cooperative rape I've ever heard of!" he said in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you didn't enjoy that?"

Wendy continued struggling in her husband's grasp. How dare he? "You son of a bitch! No, of course not. A real man doesn't have to rape a woman. Now get up and leave me alone!"

Richard stared down at the woman he had just screwed and his anger reached the boiling point. Trapping her underneath him, he brought down his free hand, hard! SMACK! SMACK! "You bitch!" he roared. SMACK! "How dare you?!" SMACK! "You liked it just fine and you know it." SMACK! "You came, I felt it!" SMACK! SMACK! "You horny bitch, you wanted it!" SMACK!

Wendy cried in agony as Richard beat her bottom until it glowed hot and red. She was crying, sobbing from the pain even as her pussy went on overload, flooding her thighs and the cushions of the couch with her come. Even as she complained, she knew, deep inside, that she was coming like she had never come before! When Richard positioned himself behind her for a second fuck, her body betrayed her, spreading her legs as wide as possible and thrusting back as he thrust inside her.

"Hump it, you bitch!" Richard cried, settling in for one of the best fucks he had ever had.

Wendy humped back at him greedily, moaning and crying out as she came wildly. Her bottom tingled as her husband bucked against it, the pain subsumed by the incredible desire she had to fuck. She was in the midst of her second Big O when she felt Richard collapse, his hips twitching as he shot off inside her a second time. Amazingly, his cock stayed stiff, and her grasping pussy began working at it.

"You liked that, huh, bitch?," taunted Richard cruelly. "You want me to fuck you like that, don't you!" His hands slid up under her, pushing her tennis outfit and sports bra up above her aching tits. He reached up and grabbed her wrists, pushing them effortlessly under her and down to her sodden cunt. As soon as they were they, her fingers began working her frenzied clit. Richard reached around her to cup her tits, pinching her little nipples cruelly. Leaning down so that his lips were at her ear, he whispered, "Now, bitch, make me come, now!"

Wendy began fucking a third time, lost in a haze of lust. Richard hammered her from the rear, grunting and groaning with the effort. Wendy lost track of the number of times she came. By the time Richard shot his third load into her overflowing pussy, they were both sweaty and bedraggled. Richard collapsed and slipped down beside her on the couch, to look at his wife and smile.

Wendy smiled as well. "You're forgiven.," she announced.

Richard was too tired to spank her for that.

***

Richard smiled as he looked at the other end of the couch. It was massively stained with his and his wife's mixed juices from the incredible fuck session of the day before. Neither of them had done anything like that before. It was so out of character as to be incomprehensible, but it was also the best sex he had ever had in his life! He and Wendy had never screwed like that before, even on their honeymoon two years ago. Why the hell he had thought she was dead in the sack, and he needed to chase skirts elsewhere, was beyond him.

Even last night had been better than average. While he had napped on the couch half-naked, Wendy had slipped into the bathroom and not simply showered, but taken a bubble bath. She had shaved her legs and trimmed her pussy hair, primped and preened, then had donned a silky little peignoir and heels. She had worn that the rest of the day, even cooking supper dressed in the transparent nightie, a ghostly smile constantly on her face. That night, Richard had eagerly joined his wife in bed, rather than watch a late movie, and the pair of them had made love, Wendy wrapping her arms and legs around her husband, whimpering as he slowly moved against her.

Richard woke the next morning when Wendy left for church. A less than religious man, he only went at Christmas and Easter, but his wife went every week. It boggled his mind that she found nothing incompatible with being a devout Catholic and fucking like a bunny and using the Pill. He had gotten up as she left the house, showered and shaved, and made himself breakfast. He put on a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, then sat down to watch the Sunday morning news shows. His mind was half on the latest crisis-of-the-week, and half on the incredible sex that he and Wendy had gotten into the day before. If they could only keep going like that...

When Wendy came home and her husband saw how she was dressed, something snapped inside him, and he knew what to do. She was dressed in a very nice, very conservative, navy blue suit, with a knee length skirt, long sleeved jacket, a frilly white and completely opaque blouse, and low heeled shoes. Just what a God fearing woman wore to church. He knew she would change, probably into jeans and a sweat shirt.

Wendy approached her husband on the way through the living room to their bedroom, stopping by his side to bend down and kiss him. When she stood up, he put a hand out, to hold her leg and keep her in place. "Go put on a short skirt, and a blouse, and those high heeled sandals I like.," he ordered, then let her escape.

Wendy was stupefied as she moved away from Richard and down the hallway to their bedroom. He had never treated her like this before, like nothing but a sex toy. He was a loving and caring husband, and would probably become a wonderful father. They had talked about having children, and she had wondered if that might help their marriage out. The spark had gone out, or had it? Why, he was treating her just like Bill!

As Wendy stripped her clothing off, she wondered just what it was about Bill Sears that got her pussy so wet. She had known him for almost a year, since he had transferred into the office, but nothing had happened until about a month ago. They had been away, in Chicago, at a conference, when he had invited her to the hotel bar for a few drinks. She had downed more than she should have, and had then agreed to go back to his room for a nightcap. Wendy had known that she was playing a dangerous game, but it seemed so harmless and exciting.

It was the most surprising thing when Bill unlocked the door to his room and ushered her in. He poured her a drink from a bottle on the dresser, then smiled and said, "Get undressed." She had goggled at the crudity, knowing this was adultery, but had undressed anyway. They had fucked nonstop till the next morning.

Now her own husband was treating her this way, and she felt the same heat between her legs that Bill generated. They had gotten together a handful of times since, nooners at lunch or taking a few hours off early, and Bill's orders were the same - get undressed and do what she was told.

Wendy slipped out of the suit, hanging it up, and pulled a shorter skirt off a hanger. She pulled it on, then slipped into a pair of high heeled pumps. They weren't the sandals Richard wanted, but she was sure they would do. She walked back out into the living room. Maybe she was mistaken, and Richard was taking her out to lunch.

Her husband took one look at her, and the look of disgust on her face convinced her she was wrong. "Jesus, can't you get anything right? I said a blouse, short skirt, and sandals. Did I say anything about a bra?"

Wendy simply shook her head, 'No.'

Richard continued on in the same vein. Pulling her to him, he lifted her skirt awkwardly, to see that she still wore her panties and pantyhose. "Did I say anything about panties and hose? Didn't I say a short skirt? Didn't I say your high heeled sandals?" At each question Wendy answered mutely, afraid to anger her husband even as her pussy started churning juice, soaking her panties.

She stepped back slightly. "How short a skirt did you want me to wear?," she asked. She knew it was an idiot question even as it passed her lips.

"Start pulling it up and I'll say when.," replied Richard.

Wendy grasped the fabric and began pulling it up her thighs, bunching the fabric in her sweaty hands nervously.

"Stop!" cried her husband.

She looked down and saw that the skirt was only inches below the junction of her legs. She didn't have any skirts that short! "But, I don't have any..."

Richard interrupted her. "That's your problem, fix it. Take your time, but do as you are told from now on." He turned his wife around and delivered a healthy spank to her cutely rounded posterior, then pushed her back down the hall. Wendy whirled around in anger, then seeing his face, scooted down the hall to change. Her husband thought things had gone fairly well.

Wendy's mind whirled as she stripped off the clothes she had so mistakenly worn. Tossing the hose and underwear in the hamper, she vaguely contemplated putting the blouse back on, but something in her husband's eyes had warned her about this. Tossing that in as well, she pulled a much prettier blouse from the closet, one that she normally wore with a camisole or full slip. She put this on, and as she buttoned it, noticed that her breasts and nipples were on total display. A flash of heat went through her pussy.

Next she began pulling skirts out of the closet, and when nothing proved suitable, yanked open all the drawers in her dresser. Nothing! They were all just way too long, even what she considered the short ones, the ones she could never wear anywhere, but that her husband had once bought her. Dejected, she slipped the high heeled sandals on strapped them around her ankles. On the plus side, she didn't mind wearing high heels; she knew she had nice legs and the sandals did look good on her. Then she spotted an old skirt, one from her college days, well worn and undoubtedly due for the rag box. It was a cheap and gaudy cotton skirt that buttoned up the front. Realizing that it could be destroyed without cost, she held it up to her waist and measured it, then grabbed a pair of pinking shears and shortened it drastically. She buttoned it around her waist, then walked back down the hall to her husband.

Richard was delighted at the sight of Wendy sashaying towards him in the scanty outfit. Her tits jiggled wonderfully inside the sheer blouse, her nipples proud and erect, pushing the thin fabric out. Still, it would not be good, to go easy at this point. Putting a stern expression on his face, he ordered her forward. Twirling his fingers, he had her walk back and forth before the couch, turning like a walkway model. God, but she looked good.

Wendy was so turned on that she was sure that her husband could smell her cunt juice. She stood proudly before him, waiting for him to order her around. Still, she was surprised when he asked, "Are you still wearing a bra?" The blouse was sheer; anybody could see her breasts!

"Can't you tell?," she asked, in some confusion.

"You'd better prove it. Unbutton that blouse and show me.," he demanded.

Wendy smiled as she began to understand Richard's words. She seductively and slowly unbuttoned the blouse, then slowly peeled it apart. Reaching inside, she cupped her breasts and displayed them to him. "Okay?," she asked.

"What about the panties? Remember, I said, no panties?"

She continued to smile. The skirt only had three buttons left, the one at her waist and another two lower. She gave a small bump and grind, then undid all but the one at the waist. She spread the skirt wide and ran a finger through her pussy lips, then licked it off. "All right?"

"Yeah, fine, slut. Now, get down on your knees and take care of business.," said Richard, pointing at the obvious boner in his shorts.

Wendy gasped quietly as her husband called her a slut. That was what Bill called her when he was fucking her! She knelt in front of her husband and crawled forward on her hands and knees. Her hands were trembling as she undid his shorts and tugged them off. She stared at the cock waving in her face, then leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

Richard was in heaven. Wendy rarely sucked him off, and when she did, it was only for foreplay. She always fucked him. Trapping her head in his hands, he forced his cock deeper into her mouth. Surprisingly, his wife did not gag or complain. She kept sucking, and he knew he was going to come soon. He rapped her on the head gently and she looked up at him, her lips still wrapped around his cock. "Starting now, you are going to swallow. Understand, bitch?"

Wendy mumbled her assent around his cock and went back to work. It was so like Bill, it was scary! Could Richard have learned? Bill ALWAYS made her swallow! The first time she had demurred, and he had simply told her that if she didn't swallow his come, to get out! She swallowed.

Richard was in bliss, his wife sucking his cock, dressed like the ultimate slut, letting him do whatever he wanted to her. Groaning, he whimpered, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" and cut loose, his jism spurting into Wendy's mouth. The only other time this had happened, Wendy had pulled away, gagging and bitching. Now she sucked and swallowed, to lick his cock clean, then lick her lips suggestively. She gave his limp dick a final kiss, then sat back on her heels, smiling.

"That wasn't half bad.," commented her husband. "Been practicing?" Wendy's heart almost stopped, but Richard continued, not noticing. "Okay, stand up and finger yourself off."

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