Wicked Wife

"What about him, sugar?"

"Well we don't want him getting any sleep, baby, do we?"

"No, honey, I'd definitely rather he didn't," said Carla.

"And we don't want him being able to ... err ... touch himself and stuff, do we? You know, give himself a quick handjob on the sly."

"No way," giggled Carla. "We want to keep the poor thing all frustrated in that department. More fun for us that way."

"Right," said Mike and he rustled in his bag, pulled out the items he needed.

Couple of minutes later and Simon was shackled at the foot of the bed. Unfortunately for poor Simon, the construction and dimensions of the bed were perfect for the purpose (no surprise to Mike since Carla had already told him this).

Mike stretched him out into a cruel configuration, arms and legs pulled wide apart, and chained him securely in place by his ankles and wrists. He adjusted the manacles so Simon could barely move, apart from his head; certainly couldn't take the strain off his limbs by shifting around to any great extent.

It was a position which would start off uncomfortable and progress slowly through to acute physical agony over, say, eight or ten hours. About how long Mike reckoned he might stay in bed with Carla, in fact.

Carla looked on, giggling fit to burst.

"Oh you utter bastard, Mike! Look at the poor thing! We gonna keep him like that all night?"

"Yep," grinned Mike, finishing up.

"So, what do you think, baby girl? Like it?"

Carla couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah, I really do. Poor little sod. Hang on, though ..."

She went and got a bucket from the bathroom, placed it on the floor between Simon's legs.

"Don't want him peeing in the night on my nice bedroom carpet, sugar, do we?"

"Smart thinking, babe," chuckled Mike. "And if he pees in there, he can always drink it for breakfast, can't he?"

"Definitely," giggled Carla.

"Coffee and fresh juice for my hunky lover, nice glass of stale, warm piss for poor little hubby."

"Let's go to bed then, baby," chuckled Mike.

The two of them slipped between the covers, Mike on his back and Carla snuggled into him. They spent an enjoyable few minutes just looking and laughing at the wretched Simon, manacled helplessly at the end of the bed, facing them.

"This is one comfortable bed, dude," grinned Mike, stretching out luxuriously, gently fondling one of Carla's breasts

He blew Simon a kiss. "Man, I'm gonna sleep well tonight."

"Fuck me again first, honey," whispered Carla sexily. "Make love to me nice and slow."

Totally ignoring Simon now, the cruel and sexy pair indulged in a long lovemaking session. It ended after almost an hour in another deeply satisfying mutual orgasm.

By which time, Simon was audibly whimpering from the steadily growing pain of his excruciating position.

"Aw, listen to the poor thing," giggled Carla.

"Yeah. Shit, it's gonna keep us awake, baby -- should I undo him?"

"No. Just gag him, darling. Gag him and then we'll go to sleep."

"Hear that, Simes?" grinned Mike. "Time for the gag."

Simon whimpered.

"Jeez, your wife's a fucking bitch, isn't she? Here's me offering to go easy on you but the sexy lady says no dice. And what the sexy lady wants, the sexy lady gets."

Mike got up and went to his bag, got the thick leather gag he'd bought (along with all the other stuff) in the week. Interesting shop, that'd been!

He stuffed the gag into Simon's mouth and strapped it in place.

The gag was large and a perfect fit. It levered his jaws open and it filled his entire mouth (lips protruding awkwardly above and below) such that Simon could now breathe only through his nose -- he definitely wouldn't be able to make much of a sound, no matter how bad his pain became

"That's shut you the fuck up, shit-for-brains, hasn't it?" Mike sneered.

He slapped Simon's bare butt, tickled under his chin, then rejoined the softly giggling Carla in bed.

They gazed in amusement at poor Simon.

"Sweet dreams, dude," Mike winked, switching off the light.

Simon's outstretched form at the foot of the bed was now only a faintly trembling silhouette.

"Mmm, sleep well, pooch," giggled Carla. "Me and Mike definitely will."

The two of them drifted off in each other's arms.

** ** ** **

Saturday, and Carla didn't wake till mid-afternoon. She felt refreshed and generally rather wonderful. She was alone, though, she realised, as she stretched her limbs and opened her eyes. No lover under the duvet, no husband in bondage at the foot of the bed.

Getting up, Carla saw that all that was down there was the bucket and, yes sure enough, Simon had obviously pissed in it overnight. Carla giggled to herself. That was going to be big fun, making him drink it!

She slipped on a slinky, short silk robe and went downstairs.

"Ah, so here's the two men in my life," she chuckled, entering the lounge.

Reason she chuckled was that Mike was sat there comfortably in his dressing gown (and looking gorgeous!), lounging in an armchair, sipping a mug of coffee, and he had a butt-naked and gagged Simon kneeling down with his hands behind his back, wrists cuffed to the radiator over by the wall.

Round Simon's neck was a dog collar with a chain; Mike had the end of the chain in one hand, his coffee in the other.

"I see you've made yourself at home, sweetie," giggled Carla.

"Mmm," said Mike. "Don't mind, do you baby girl?"

"Course not, sugar! You're the boss, you know that."

She sashayed over and sat in Mike's lap, gave him a long, smoochy kiss.

Mike put his coffee down and reciprocated. Kissed Carla sexily and slipped his hand inside her robe to fondle her tits.

He grinned across at Simon.

"Hey, dude, your wife is sure looking fucking hot again today. Makes a man just want to rip this teeny little robe right off her, doesn't it? Mmm, oh yeah. Looking good enough to eat, she is."

Simon didn't need telling. Carla did indeed look good enough to eat, he thought, and he found himself gazing longingly at her exposed legs. Her robe didn't cover very much.

Mike saw where Simon was looking and he made a production of stroking Carla's legs, running his hand up and down her silky smooth thigh.

"Don't blame you for ogling, dude," he taunted, continuing to stroke Carla. "Fucking gorgeous legs."

"Especially when they're wrapped around you in bed," Mike grinned, his fingers now straying towards her pussy.

"Oh yeah, baby ... nice," whispered Carla, and she snuggled her ass into his groin, pleased to feel an erection there.

"So what you been up to today, sugar? Having a good time treating my husband like a dog?"

"That's about it," grinned Mike. "Hey, Carla, watch this."

And he yanked the chain connecting him and Simon. With Simon cuffed to the radiator, this meant his head was jerked violently and painfully towards Mike.

Mike did it again, then again. "Whoa, just look at the little doggy's head go!" he chuckled.

"Been doing this since I got up. Must be a couple of hours ago now. Sorry Carla, sweetheart, I didn't wanna wake you. You looked so peaceful, sleeping."

Carla grinned. "That's alright, darling. I needed the sleep after my hunky lover wore me out last night with his virile lovemaking."

"And you can torture my useless husband however you like. Whatever turns you on, sweetie. Aw look at him, the poor thing!"

"Yeah," laughed Mike.

"God, what a shit life eh? Gets slapped around by me, gets cockteased something terrible by his wife, then he has to watch me fuck her, then he's tied up and in agony all night while we fuck some more and sleep, then I wake up and I get straight in with messing him around all over again."

"Does that hurt him terribly, darling, the thing you're doing with the chain?" asked Carla.

"Fuck yeah. He'd be yelling the place down if he wasn't gagged, poor bastard," said Mike with obvious relish.

He jerked the chain again -- very hard -- and Carla could see poor Simon was indeed suffering. His neck was red-raw where the collar was biting and his body and face were visibly marked in places from the various slaps and kicks he'd been getting both the night before and (she guessed) already a few more today.

"Yeah, and I gave the little cunt a good working over before I even put the collar on him," grinned Mike, as if he knew what Carla was thinking.

"My big bad loverman," purred Carla, giving him another long, sexy kiss.

"I'm loving it, baby, loving it," grunted Mike.

He yanked on the chain again, did it viciously and continuously, jerking Simon's head around like he was a rag doll.

Simon was utterly helpless. It was pathetic to see.

"So ..." said Carla, licking her lips at the spectacle of her husband, handcuffed and on his knees, twitching and cowering by the wall. "Can I have a go?"

"Be my guest, sugar," said Mike. He passed her the chain.

Feeling deliciously powerful and sexy and cruel, Carla sat giggling on her lover's lap and jerked Simon's poor head around with the dog chain, just casually, lazily, at first, till she got the hang of it, then harder and harder until it seemed like his neck might snap. She was merciless.

She could feel Mike's erect cock pressing into her ass, how turned on he was by her sadism towards her husband, and this egged her on all the more. Such fun!

Finally bored with this game, they unclipped Simon from the wall, took his cuffs off but left the dog collar on.

Carla took the chain. "Come, doggy," she giggled and she led him upstairs on his hands and knees to the bedroom. Mike cackled and followed, kicked Simon's butt a few times on the way.

Letting go of his chain, Carla pointed to the bucket.

"Take that into the bathroom, pooch," she ordered.

Simon crawled over to the bucket, hesitated. "Can I stand up, Carla?" he asked, pathetically.

Carla and Mike fell about laughing.

"God, what a fucking dork!" snorted Mike.

"Yeah, poochie," giggled Carla. "You stand up and take the bucket into the bathroom."

Simon, collar round his neck and chain hanging free, struggled painfully to his feet and carried the bucket into the bathroom.

"Now, see that pint glass over there?" said Carla.

Simon nodded.

"Okay, so pour what's in the bucket into the glass."

Simon did so and was now holding a pint glass which was maybe a third full of piss. His own stale piss from the night before.

"Kneel down, pooch," Carla instructed. "And drink."

"Wait a second, babe," interrupted Mike. "I need a leak myself."

He pulled his cock through his dressing gown, walked over and stood in front of the kneeling Simon.

"How about I top it up first, dude?" he grinned.

Simon, very distressed, looked imploringly at his wife. "Please Carla, no," he whimpered.

She just giggled.

Mike aimed his cock and took a piss; about half went into the glass (pretty much filling it) and the rest he sprayed over Simon's face.

"Now drink that piss, turdface," Mike snapped.

"C'mon, shit-for-brains, down in one. Every last drop. Me and Carla wanna see a totally empty glass."

And they forced him to drink it all down.

"Oh yuckety yuck!" giggled Carla, as she watched Simon retch and swallow.

"Yeah," chuckled Mike. "Filthy little bastard, isn't he?"

"He's horrible, darling. Really horrible," agreed Carla, still giggling.

Mike slapped Simon.

"Hear that, you little creep? Carla thinks you're disgusting. Apologise to her. Go on, dude. Say sorry to your sexy wife for being such a disgusting little turd. Those exact words."

"I'm sorry for being a disgusting little turd, Carla," mumbled the abject Simon.

"So you should be, pooch," smirked Carla. "Still, I've got my handsome loverman here so, you know, I guess I'll survive. Hey, how about you stay on your knees and suck my loverman's cock for a while?"

Mike chuckled and got his dick out once more. "Yeah babe, fucking great idea!"

He opened up his dressing gown and got hold of Simon's head with both hands. He placed his hardening member between Simon's lips. "Open wide, turdface," he grunted, and he rammed it in.

Carla collapsed in laughter, watching her lover pump his cock in and out of her husband's mouth.

"Ooo yeah, pooch, I like it," she giggled. "Go on, keep going, keep sucking my lover's big cock. It's a gorgeous cock, isn't it? I'm getting all jealous!"

"Don't worry, babe," grinned Mike, one last thrust into Simon's mouth before pulling out. "I'm not gonna come. Gonna save all that for you, baby girl."

Carla pouted and laughed, then she grabbed Simon's chain.

"Come doggy, let's go have some more fun downstairs," she giggled.

Back in the lounge, Carla settled herself on the sofa with a pot of coffee and some magazines whilst Mike amused himself with Simon. Every so often, she'd look up and grin at what was happening to her poor husband.

Simon was absolutely helpless and Mike, egged on by Carla's obvious approval, became more and more cruel.

He got on Simon's back and rode him like a donkey around the lounge, yanking the chain and viciously slapping his butt.

"Go, you little fucker, go!" he yelped, until the exhausted Simon collapsed in tears on the floor.

"Looks like you've tired the poor thing out, darling," giggled Carla. "Maybe you'd better try a game where he stays still."

"Sure, baby," grinned Mike.

He placed two heavy armchairs a few feet apart, then spread-eagled Simon face down on the floor with his wrists and ankles manacled to four solid wooden legs.

"Can't move now, gorgeous, can he?" chuckled Mike. "Even if he wanted to."

He couldn't. Simon couldn't move a muscle.

Mike stood straddled over Simon, grinning at Carla. He put his foot on Simon's butt and violently yanked the dog chain a couple of times, made Simon squeal into the carpet.

"Think you'd better gag him again, baby," suggested Carla.

Mike stuffed the gag into Simon's mouth, so now he could neither move nor speak.

"Aw, look at the poor thing," Carla giggled.

"I'd say my pathetic poochie pie is totally at my big hunky lover's mercy. Wonder what's going to happen to poor hubby? Wonder what big bad Mr Mike's gonna do to him?"

Quite a lot as it turned out.

"I wanna see you really torture him now, sweetheart," Carla told the grinning Mike.

"Wanna see how cruel my hunky loverman can be."

Mike went off and got a few bits and pieces. Then he threw down a couple of cushions and made himself comfortable on the floor next to the helpless, manacled Simon.

"That's right, sugar, take your time," said Carla, smiling and licking her lips in anticipation.

"Just enjoy yourself, Mike darling. Make it last. There's no rush."

The next couple of hours weren't great for Simon.

First, Mike rubbed chilli powder into Simon's ass. Then he painfully inserted a large cucumber up there.

"Oh you bastard, Mike!" squealed Carla in delight as he screwed it further and further in. God, this was hilarious ... poor little hubby!

Mike chuckled, really starting to enjoy himself. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby."

He tickled poor, helpless Simon under the armpits. Leisurely poked and prodded him in the ribs, bit the back of his neck, flicked his ears, just generally toyed and messed about with him for a while.

Carla laughed, turned on by her lover's casual cruelty.

"Hurt him now, baby!" she urged.

Mike grinned. Then he pulled a chunk of Simon's hair out of the back of his head.

"Aw, that's sooo mean," giggled Carla. "Not as if he has much to start with, is it?"

"Not like me, eh, sugar?" smirked Mike, tousling his own healthy locks in an exaggerated preen.

"Yeah I just adore your hair, lover, you know that," pouted Carla.

"Almost as much as I adore your juicy cock," she giggled.

She'd noticed that Mike's dick was erect, was jutting proudly out through his dressing gown. She licked her lips at the sight of it.

Mike, following her gaze, grinned wolfishly.

"Guess torturing the fuck out of your useless shit of a husband is turning me on, baby girl. Any chance of a ... you know?"

"Sure, honey, I'd love to help you out there," giggled Carla, pouting and flexing her fingers. She got up from the sofa, joined Mike on the floor next to Simon.

Mike pulled the cucumber out of Simon's ass and stretched out on top of him, facing upwards.

"Don't mind me lying on you while your wife gives me a handjob, dude, do you?" he chuckled, winking at Carla.

"Sure you wouldn't prefer a blowjob, darling?" asked the highly amused Carla, winking back at her lover.

Poor Simon, what a deliciously cruel and unfair situation!

"Thanks sugar. But no, a handjob'd be great right now."

Carla snuggled in next to the two men.

With one hand she gave her lover a sexy and satisfying handjob, and with the other she casually tormented her poor, helpless husband ... poked her finger in his ear, pinched his cheek as hard as she could, dug her long nails into the side of his neck and his arm, scratched away repeatedly until she drew blood.

When Mike came, Carla caught some of his spunk and, pulling Simon's head up from the carpet, she rubbed it slowly and thoroughly into his face.

She settled herself back on the sofa.

"Was that nice, darling? Did you enjoy it?" she pouted sexily at Mike.

Mike grunted appreciatively. "Oh yeah, sexy girl, you sure know how to handle a man's cock."

"Thanks, darling. What woman wouldn't want to handle a yummy cock like yours? I'm a very lucky girl."

"Oh god, babe, what did you do to our hero here?" grinned Mike, seeing the bloody mass of scratches on Simon's neck and all over his right arm.

"Well what's the point of a girl having these, sugar, if not to torture her useless husband at the same time as giving a great handjob to her hunky lover?" giggled Carla, holding up her hand, fluttering her long red fingernails.

Simon was weeping into the carpet, she was pleased to see.

Mike snorted with laughter.

"Such an utter bitch you are, baby. Fuck, he really is Mr Unfortunate, isn't he? Just look at the poor little shit."

"Yeah, the poor thing," grinned Carla.

"So, you gonna torture him some more for me, sweetie? You gonna be unspeakably evil to my useless little hubby?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic?" grinned Mike.

Things duly got even worse for Simon.

Mike started torturing him with a cigarette lighter; very carefully, letting the tip of the flame lick against Simon's naked flesh for a couple of seconds each time ... just enough to lightly burn and singe.

He did it here and there, moved it around, so Simon never knew where the heat was coming next.

"Burn his hair off, darling!" shouted Carla, clapping her hands in glee.

"Make him bald, as well as old and fat and ugly," she giggled.

It took ages but Mike managed to do it, to singe pretty much all the hair away from Simon's head.

"You are soooo skilful, darling," purred Carla, seeing her husband's skull now left with a few smoking tufts and nothing more.

"Thanks, gorgeous," grinned Mike.

"Can't see it growing back anytime soon, can you? Think you've just got yourself a baldy old cunt for a husband, Carla baby."

"Mmm ... but I have my strong, handsome lover, don't I?" she pouted.

"Fucking right, babe," said Mike.

"Body hair now, sweetie," said Carla.

"What, everywhere?"

"Yeah, sugar, do it. Be so funny!"

So Mike used the lighter to singe off all Simon's hair. That he could easily get at, anyway ... his butt, the back of his legs, forearms, under his armpits ... the lot.

He went about it slowly and methodically and it took a long long time.

Carla looked on, giggling fit to burst, coffee and magazines forgotten. The reality of her hunky lover torturing her poor husband was more than living up to even her wildest fantasies! Oh lordy lord, what a wicked woman she'd become! Her pussy was sopping wet when Mike had finished.