Willingly Used by Wife

When I began waking up, I instinctively knew it wasn't yet morning. I was groggy. Daylight had yet to arrive.

I tried stretching, and immediately knew something was wrong. My wrists were manacled, tied off to the sides of the headboard. An instant later I felt a tightness around my neck, and realized I'd had my ankles strapped up high, with a double loop around my throat. Just as I liked to do to you. I pulled my feet back up, and tried to look around.

My vision cleared, and I could see the room was only dimly lit by a dozen or so candles. I raised my head, and saw you, sitting comfortably between my upraised legs.

"Hey, Daddy, you awake," you asked, smiling. A self-assured smile. A smile that meant trouble for me, I knew.

You raised yourself up a little bit, as if to get comfortable, but really to let me see. And I did see. I saw the straps around your thighs. The strap around your waist. And the thick plastic cock, it's base held against your pussy, glistening with lube.

"I'm so glad you're awake now," you said, your right hand slowly stroking your glistening plastic cock. "Did you have fun last night?"

I abruptly remembered that I had, in fact, enormous fun last night. I'd taken your ass, and not gently. I'd been aggressive, hungry for it, needing to feel myself deep inside you. I remembered pulling your hair, harder than I ought to, clamping a hand around your mouth from behind as I buried my cock in your ass. I remembered the glorious feeling of my cock pulsing it's thick load into your ass, the way you gripped my cock as I slid out of you. It was great.

But apparently not free.

"Ah, you DO remember," you said, and laughed. "I'm glad. You sure did have your fun."

I felt the slippery fingers of your left hand dance along my tight ass, already lubed, teasing me. My cock hardened.

"Well, now it's time for me to have my fun, don't you think?"

A slim finger pressed into me, and I tightened against it. You laughed, raised up your right hand, and brought it down against my balls. I moaned in pain, arched my back, and immediately felt the strap tighten around my neck. Painfully, I forced myself to relax my legs.

"Look at me," you said. I did. "Who do you see?"

"Jennifer," I responded, and a second smack to my balls followed an instant later.

"Sorry, that's the wrong answer." Your right hand fondled my balls gently for a moment before your nails dug in. Pleasurably, at first. Then harder. Still nice. Then harder still, and I found I was gasping for breath. "Try again. Who do you see?" Your voice was harder now.

"Miss . . . Miss Jennifer," I gasped, and the pressure of your nails on my balls lessened. I still felt them, but knew they were meant to be cautionary now, not punishing.

"That's right. Miss Jennifer. You'll remember that?" Your nails pressed down again, and I responded immediately.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer, I'll remember." Shockingly, my cock was harder than ever. You ran your slippery left hand up and down my shaft, not nearly hard enough to make me cum, just enough for me to know that you could.

"That's much better." You took your hand off my cock, and twisted it in my hair, pulling my head up so I had to stare at you stroking that thick plastic cock in your right hand."

"Do you see what I've brought you?" you asked, a gleam in your eyes.

When I didn't immediately respond, I felt another smack to my balls, the hardest yet, and couldn't help but stretch my legs and choke myself down again.

"Yes, yes, Miss Jennifer, I see it."

"Well, tell me, what do you see?" Your fingers were gently massaging me again, my cock, my balls, my ass, slipping a little inside, stretching me.

"I, I see your cock, Miss Jennifer," I moaned out, the precum starting to drip from my cock.

"Oh, you do, do you? Do you want to see it closer," you asked. "Do you want to suck my big plastic cock?".

Oh, yes, I did, but I couldn't dare admit that. "Whatever pleases you, Miss Jennifer."

I should have expected that you'd slap my balls again, even harder than before.

"You're such a liar. Or maybe you just didn't want to answer the question, hmmm?" You were stroking my cock again, keeping it hard with the slow motion of your fingers. "I think you DO want to suck it. Like I suck yours. You like it so very much, don't you think I would"? Your eyes were staring directly into mine.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer," I responded, weakly.

Another smack to the balls. The strap tightened hard around my neck until I could relax again.

"Yes, what?"

Yes, Miss Jennifer . . . I'd like to suck your cock," I moaned.

You smiled broadly then, your hands again caressing my cock and ass, this time two fingers slipping inside me.

"Oh, I know you would But you haven't earned that privilege yet."

You used your fingertips to wipe off some of the copious pre-cum from the head of my cock, and tasted it.

"Yum," you smiled. "That's delicious. And you haven't yet had dinner, have you?"

I shook my head, both in response to her question, and in rejection of what she clearly had in mind. You dragged your fingers back across my cock, then held them up.

"Open up," you said. I shook my head vigorously.

"No . . . " then yelped as your nails dug into my swollen balls again. As I cried out, my mouth opened, and you quickly slipped your fingers inside, deep.

"Move your tongue," you said, sternly.

I didn't obey, although I could taste the pre-cum already. You smiled evilly, and slid your fingers deep into the back of my throat, until I coughed and gagged.

"How do you like that," you asked conversationally, as you smeared my pre-cum into the back of my throat, and all over my tongue. But you didn't need a reply when you felt me greedily sucking on your fingers.

"That's right. You like making me happy, don't you?" I nodded vigorously.

"Well, tonight you're going to make me very happy, aren't you," you asked, sliding your hand out of my mouth. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Jennifer," I gasped as you slid a third finger in my ass.

"And how do you plan to do that," you asked, slyly.

I hesitated just long enough to warrant another, harder slap on the balls.

"I'm going to let you fuck me with your cock, Miss Jennifer."

That earned me another slap to the sack, and this time I couldn't help but tighten the strap around my neck for a moment. I heard an animalistic groan, and realized it had come from me.

"Let me? Let me? You poor thing, you aren't going to "let me" do anything."

That's when I knew I was really in trouble.

"You," you continued, "are going to beg me."

A fourth finger entered my ass, and for the first time I really knew you were serious. You were going to fuck me with that huge plastic cock. I only wished I could stroke myself off as you did it. But with my hands tied as they were . . . it was hopeless. Yet I was so desperately aroused.

"Please, Miss Jennifer, let me cum," I begged.

"Ah, that's a good start. But you need to beg for MY pleasure first." And that's when you first pressed the bulbous head of that strap-on against my ass, which tightened against it, instinctively.

You wrapped your left hand around the base of my cock, like you do when you're blowing me, and your right hand wrapped around my balls, lifting them up and digging your nails in.

"Go ahead," you said. "Beg me to pleasure myself."

The pressure of your plastic cock against my ass was teasingly firm, but not yet enough to penetrate, although I knew you wanted to, badly. But you also wanted more than that.

Your nails dug deeper into my balls. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," you whispered, stroking my cock.

I took several deep breaths, saw you looking into my eyes, my ankles strapped up by your head, the strap deathly tight around my neck.

"Please . . . " I moaned.

"Yes?" you asked sweetly, increasing the pressure of your hands, both pleasurable and so painful.

"Please, Miss Jennifer . . . " I moaned again.

"Yes, my pet?" you asked, your enormous hard plastic cock pressed wickedly against my resisting ass.


"Please, Miss Jennifer," I finally gasped, "fuck me."

"What was that?" you asked, the head of your cock beginning to press past my sphincter.

"Please, Miss Jennifer, " said louder, more desperately, "fuck me with your cock!"

With that you slid your ample hips forward, one hand tight around my balls, the other chokingly tight around my throat, and pressed your strap-on into me.

"Like that?" you asked in a hoarse voice as you sunk yourself deep, barely audible over my animalistic groan.

"Answer me!" you demanded, pulling back out until only the head was inside me, then slamming back in hard.

I slowly realized what you meant.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer, I . . . I . . . I like that."

You smiled, then. "I know you do, lover. I like it, too. Can you tell?" And with that you began swinging your hips into me steadily, your hand sliding along my lubed cock, the base of the strap-on pressing into your clit.

I could see you approaching orgasm, even as I did. But I knew my punishment would be severe if I came before you.

Somehow I held on, watched you shudder as your orgasm swept your body, convulsing, shivering, until finally your shoulders relaxed. Your eyes refocused, and you sank your plastic cock deep inside me once again.

"You may come now," you said post-coital calmness, as you stroked me to my finish, and an instant later I came hard, my cum splashing out over my firm stomach and broad chest, some if it landing on my face, in my hair. I gasped, breathless.

When I opened my eyes you were running your fingers through the cum on my body, then lifting them up, dripping. Smiling, you reached forward.

"Time for dinner, sweetie," you said, your plastic cock still buried inside me, your fingernails tightening on my balls.

There was nothing I could do.

And I loved you for it.

******