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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: Madabou4.txt
Authors name: Frost
Story Title : Mad About You
Part 4 of 8
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She groaned in pleasure as the heat rose inside her groin. She
ground her hips down and humped feverishly, pulling, straining at
the ties, basking in the wondrous sexual eroticism that was
flooding her body.
Then she became aware of the sharp ache behind her, aware of
it in the same way she was aware of Paul's hands moving over her,
of his lips on her neck and throat. It was merely another
sensation, another among a myriad of pleasures rippling along her
overworked nervous system.
Then suddenly she knew it was for what it was. Understanding
burst through the waves of pleasure and she caught her breath in
shock, then rejection, then a terrible, dark passion seemed to
catch at her throat. She held almost still, concentrating on the
sensation of his cock going into her.
She had never been sodomized, of course, nor ever wished to,
but now, it seemed the ultimate in sexual passion. Now, as she lay
belly down, tied spreadeagled, helpless, she pictured herself and
pictured Paul, and pictured his stiff boner pushing down into her
anus, and a wave of shocking, almost exultant sex-heat crackled
through her mind like an electrical storm.
She felt his thick cock going deeper and deeper, working its
way up her anal tube. She felt herself bloated out, felt herself
opened, felt the walls of her anus caressed by his thick meat, and
then bared down on her pussy muscles, chewing on the buzzing
vibrator.
She screamed as she came, smashing her face again and again
into the mattress as a stunning blast of ecstasy ripped through her
body and mind. She jerked spastically, shaking and straining and
tearing at the ties as the climax bit into her guts and tore her
mind through a wall of madness.
She felt, from a far distance, his cock thrusting harder,
burying itself in her asshole, felt his balls mashing against her
buttocks as he ground himself into her, then felt the first
movements as he began to pump into her.
She fell into a deep, dark well, then felt a flood of
flickering, sun-bright pleasure pouring over her. It swamped her
senses, and she bounced and swayed and turned end over end within
it, her mind basking in euphoria.
Atop her, Paul no longer felt the need for much gentleness. As
she cried out her pleasure and her body thrashed and shook and
rocked from side to side, he thrust his cock into her to the balls,
ground himself against her, then paused only long enough to look
down and see, with triumphant eyes, her tight round asshole
gripping the base of his tool.
Then he began to pump, fighting the tightness of her sucking
asshole, tearing up and down slowly, but with ever increasing speed
as he beat down her muscles. He felt the buzzing and humming of the
vibrator in her twat tube, felt it against his cock deep inside her
belly, and cursed in pleasure, driven to new heights as he pounded
his cock feverishly down into her round rectal hole.
She continued to tear at the ties, her head bouncing, grunting
and moaning and gurgling in pleasure. He rode her wildly, feeling
a glorious pride, even arrogance, at mastering, humbling his
strong-willed, dignified wife, at pounding his cock up her asshole
as she came with uncontrollable passion.
Yes! He was the boss! And she was his! She belonged to him! He
would fuck her brains out!
He panted and grunted in heated pleasure as he slammed his
cock down into her asshole with forceful strokes. He let his body
crush her to the bed, his ass rising and falling like a triphammer
as he gave it to her, then he pushed himself up on his hands,
shoving them down between her shoulder blades, straightening his
arms to look down and watch his tool punching into her, reaming out
her buttery little asshole.
"Fuck! Fuck! Yeah! Yeahhh! Take my cock! Whore! Slut! Ungh!
Ungh! Up the ass! Up your ASS! Ungh! UNgh!"
He hammered his hips down against her soft buttocks, feeling
the heavy impact shake her body, hearing the crack of noise as
flesh met flesh. He speared his cock up her asshole, almost like a
weapon, stabbing her again and again as his lust built up to almost
delirious heights.
She had stopped her shaking, and was alternately still, limp,
or straining at the ties. But he only had eyes for her asshole. he
rode her ass with a terrible pleasure, doing something he'd dreamed
of for years, pouring out the years of frustration, the years of
watching her tight, round, firm, beautiful ass and not being able
to do what he'd so often dreamed.
But now he was, now she was laying there helpless, grunting
like a bitch in heat as he ripped his cock up and down in her ass
hole! As he fucked her up the ass! As he butt-fucked her!
Jamie Buchman, the proud, gorgeous, intelligent, wilful,
feminist, laying there with her ass up getting BUTT-FUCKED!
His balls ruptured, his juice pouring out like a firehose,
blasting up into her bowels like a sperm enema. He gnashed his
teeth in pleasure as he dropped full length atop her once more,
biting the side of her throat as he rutted against her asshole.
He felt her spasming hole sucking the juice right out of his
cock as she gurgled and groaned, then he lay still atop her,
moaning in happiness as he felt the last of his gunk draining into
her ass.
Paul got up early the next morning to play softball. Jamie
stayed in bed, pretending she was asleep when he got up. After he'd
gone she sat up, wincing, and tried to put her mind to what had
happened yesterday, tried to understand how their sex life had
changed, and why she was permitting it, much less enjoying it.
For her, sex had always been a thing of romance and love. Now,
somehow, it had become a lewd, crude, rutting and grunting exercise
that left her bruised, physically exhausted, and emotionally
drained.
She had organized her life on the assumption that she was
totally equal to any man, and her sex life was along the same
lines. Sex was supposed to be a gentle, loving exercise that
reinforced the bonds between two people.
Emotional bonds, not physical ones!
That she had permitted him to tie her up for kicks was not
what really bothered her. What was bothering her was the intensity
of the pleasure she was feeling, and the way her body took control
of her, the way she was unable to restrain herself, much less Paul.
She had never believed she could experience such ecstasy. Even
now, awash in guilt and uncertainty over everything, she knew she
wanted almost nothing so much as to feel that pleasure again. She
worried about what it was doing to her, to Paul, to their
relationship.
But it didn't matter. That terrible, wonderful pleasure was
better than anything she had ever felt in her life. The moment of
ultimate pleasure, when her body had shook so hard her teeth had
rattled, was more fulfilling than anything that had ever happened
to her before.
She could not give it up. She couldn't! She had to have it
again...and again...and again...no matter what!
But were there no limits? Would she do anything, let him do
anything? She had found the bondage intensely exciting. What did
that say about her? Was there some kind of psychological problem
buried deep in her sub-conscious? Why had she responded so
powerfully?
And he had sodomised her! God! God! God! He had done that to
her...and she had loved it! She was sick! Sick!
The memory was so fresh, so bright, so strong, that she
imagined she could feel the ties around her wrists and ankles,
could feel her body splayed out, his weight atop her, his cock
churning up her guts...
She looked down and saw, to her shock, that he fingers had
crept between her legs, and that she was unconsciously stroking her
pussy slit.
She snatched them away, shaking a bit, wondering if the
passion of this...this...feverish sexual heat would somehow render
her mindless, destroy her will.
But still it didn't matter. She knew she had to have that
pleasure again, knew she couldn't go back to the soft, romantic
love-making that had left her stroking his head and smiling after
his climax, but with no climax of her own.
She was addicted to it. She wondered if it was possible to be
addicted to sex, to the terrible thrill that gripped her body when
he used her so roughly. She couldn't ask anyone, though. The very
idea of mentioning this to her friends made her blush. What would
they think of her, feminists all, if she told them how she loved
being tied up and sosomized, how she let him spank her and
masturbate her, then use her like a cheap little whore?
She got up and went into the bathroom, stripping naked along
the way, and stood in front of the full length mirror. She opened
her legs and stared down at her crotch, noting the bruising on her
inner thighs. She cupped her pussy, and felt the tenderness, then
turned, bending somewhat, to see the lighter bruising, mostly red,
sore areas on her ass.
There were also marks on her wrists, and she could only stare
at herself in amazement, wondering how she was to cope with this.
She got into the shower, washed her hair too, then dressed in
pants and blouse. She had breakfast, and watched the news. And by
the time Paul had returned she had decided that their relationship
would be split along a simple line. Outside of the bedroom they
would continue to be equals. She would not allow him to dominate
her, to take control. She would fight that.
Inside the bedroom, she would let him have his way, let
him...ravage her, use her, fuck her to his heart's content. She
would be the cheap whore, the slut. It would be worth it for that
pleasure, for that terrible rush of heat.
That was an amazing surrender for someone who had almost from
the start insisted that Paul could be on top half the time, and she
would be on top the other half.
There was no question who was on top now.
She felt a definite tightening in her stomach muscles at the
sound of a key in the lock, but the feeling consisted of
anticipation almost as much as anxiety. Paul came in and went to
the closet, then tossed his baseball glove inside.
"Good game?" she asked.
"We lost."
"Oh, sorry."
"Ahh, life sucks, and then you die," he said, coming up behind
her and hugging and kissing her.
"You're such an optimist," she said.
"Bought you something."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, come on in the living room and I'll show you."
"I'm cooking."
"It'll wait."
"Just a second, let me set it on low," she sighed.
She followed him out into the living room and saw him proudly
pulling something out of a bag. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw
the black lace. It was...a black bustier, garter belt, black
stockings, and...a G-string. She'd never actually worn a G-string
before.
"You going to model them for me?" she asked.
"No. You're going to model them for me."
"Paaull. I can't wear these," she said, half amused, half
scandalized.
"Sure you can."
"I'd look like a hooker!"
"No, you wouldn't. You'd look sexy. Come on, give em' a try."
"Well...uhm, later maybe."
"Now. It'll only take a second."
She reluctantly picked them up, then headed for the bedroom.
"Why don't you just try them on here?"
"Because I don't want to."
"I can help you," he grinned.
"No, thank you."
She went into the bedroom and stripped, removing her much less
sexy lingerie. She watched the door carefully, not at all putting
it past him to burst in on her changing.
First she pulled on the G-string. It felt
surprisingly...erotic. He was right about how sexy it made her feel
anyway.
She pulled on the garter belt and fastened it around her, then
drew on the stockings, fastening them to the garter belt. Lastly
she pressed the tight, lacy bustier against her chest, then slowly
closed it and tied it in place. It was surprisingly tight,
especially against her breasts.
She went into the bathroom and gazed at herself in wonder. She
adjusted her breasts a little in the cups of the bustier, then
stood back, looking at herself.
God! I look incredibly slutty!
She took off her glasses, then turned and posed for herself,
then hurriedly brushed her hair, then put on some lipstick.
"Honey?" Paul called from the bedroom.
"Just a minute," she called.
She felt herself heating up as she looked at herself. She'd
never really gone in for sexy lingerie. While in high school she'd
been under the influence of her very Catholic parents, then in
college it had been the feminists. Looking sexy was even more of a
sin to a feminist than to the Pope.
There was one thing she needed, she realized. She needed high
heels.
"Paul?"
"Yeah?"
"Look in the closet and get my black high heels."
It wasn't necessary to tell him which. He'd get the highest
ones, she was sure.
He knocked on the door and she opened it just enough for him
to pass the shoes through. She put them on, then made him stand
back before she came out.
She came out almost swaggering, surprising herself at how
brazen she acted. She stood straight, pushing her breasts out,
knowing that the tight little cups which lifted them up and pushed
them together also left them almost naked. The cups were almost
transparent, and anyway, only covered the lower halfs of her orbs,
barely reaching the nipples.
"Hey, sailor," she said in a husky voice. "Looking for a
party?"
She felt her blood boiling and her skin sizzling with
excitement. Her pussy was moist, and she thought she could smell
the musky heat of her sex as she leaned against the wall. His eyes
excited her, for they were obviously alight with lust at the sight
of her.
There was certainly no question any more that she excited him.
He whistled in appreciation, and she turned, bending slightly
and showing him her bare ass.
"What a slutty girl," he growled, moving against her.
She turned around and her lips met his as his arms slid around
her. His hands gripped her bare ass cheeks as their tongues slid
together inside her mouth.
She felt his groin pressing against her, felt his hardness
through his jeans, and felt herself responding, felt her own heat
rising with his.
She raised her right leg, curling it around him as their
bodies ground together, then, a thought translated instantly to
action. Without even thinking about it she reached down and undid
his pants, shoving them down and pulling out his cock. She gripped
it in her hands, still kissing him, still sliding her tongue along
his, then pressed his cockhead against her snatch.
She eased the G-string aside and pressed his cock into her,
then groaned in bliss as he thrust up and in, driving his prick
high into her belly. He pulled a hand off her ass and tore her
right breast out of the cup, then bent and sucked and chewed on it,
his mouth voracious.
He gripped both breasts then, mauling them as he pressed her
back against the wall. Her hands went over his shoulders and she
kept her leg raised high as he bit on her throat, then her nipple,
then slid his hands around her again, clutched her ass, and drove
himself into her with a deep, powerful stroke.
She cried out ,and gripped him tightly, waves of heat
suffocating her, drowning her in sexual passion. His body threw her
back against the wall, and then she was in his hands completely,
her legs both around him as he pounded his hips into her.
She pulled herself upwards, grunting and gasping as his heavy
body pounded against her again and again. His lips suckled on her
nipples, biting and chewing as his tongue slurped over them. His
hands jerked her ass up to meet each thrust, and he fucked
furiously, wildly, pounding his cock up her slit with unrestrained
violence.
She felt herself approaching a cum, and knew only a moment's
fear at how fast and hard it was coming, then, even as her mind
warned her against this the orgasm rolled over her and she forgot
everything else.
It was wild, and rough and crude...and she loved it, loved
being smashed back into the wall, loved his hips crushing hers,
loved the feeling of raw, carnal eroticism as he growled and
grunted and chewed on her throat and ears, and spiked his cock high
into her belly.
And afterwards, after they had sagged slowly to the floor and
lay there tiredly, he had pulled her head back, gripping her hair,
and casually forced her head back, then crushed her lips in a
casual, deliberately forceful way.
Then, helping her to her feet, he had virtually demanded she
not dress. She had pulled her cups up, put her breasts, at least
half of them, back into the bustier, and adjusted the G-string over
herself, then gone back into the kitchen to finish cooking lunch.
It was the first time she could remember feeling sexy and
erotic as she made lunch. He sat at the table and watched, and she
knew his eyes roamed her body as she moved from place to place, new
how naked she was, and how hot.
Even sitting at the table with him eating she had felt hot,
her body aglow with lust as they ate, anticipating more of the
rough, carnal sexuality he had displayed over the past week.
What she had not expected was for him to take her by the hand,
lead her back to the living room, then calmly remove her sexy
lingerie, stripping her naked, undressing her like she was a doll,
his doll, his...sex toy.
He had removed her watch, her earrings, and even her glasses,
which made her blink her eyes and squint just a little. Her eyes
weren't very bad, but she was used to them.
Then he pulled another back out from under the coffee table
and pulled from it a long length of rope. She gaped at it, even as
he said "Put your hands behind your back."
She couldn't believe it, and even as the fires were blazing up
within her she felt his hand crack against her ass, and yelped in
pain.
"Hands behind your back, wrists crossed. Come on. Do as you're
told, slutty girl."
As if in a daze she obeyed, squeezing her thighs together at
the rush of heat and lubrication in her pussy. She crossed her
wrists, and felt him carefully wrapping the rope around them,
criss-crossing them and binding them tightly together.
He had an awful lot of rope for just tying her wrists
together,but she didn't wonder at it, and felt only more excited,
more aroused, as he brought the rope around her waist from either
side, then looped them back around behind her and tied them off.
He reached down between her legs, slapping them so she'd open
them, then pulled the rope between them, and up directly across her
cleft. He pushed the rope through the loop around her waist, then
jerked upwards hard. She gasped in surprise as the rope was forced
up between her pussy lips.
He pulled the rope down over the loop around her waist,
tugging that downwards, then pulled it back between her waist and
up the crack of her ass. Again he tugged sharply, forcing that up
between her pussy lips before tying it to the ropes behind her.
She looked down in amazement, shocked at the look and feel of
herself like this, almost unable to keep her legs still as the
ropes dug into her soft, moist, pink pussy flesh and crushed her
clit. She was almost ready to come just by rubbing her thighs
together.
Still, he wasn't finished. She felt him pulling upwards, and
then the rope came over her right shoulder, then also over her
left. The two strands hung down over her swollen breasts, directly
across her hot, sensitive nipples. She thought he would tie them
down against the rope around her waist, but instead he moved in
front of her and tied loops in both ropes.
"Bend over," he ordered, pushing on her shoulder.
She bent way over, and he squatted beside her, then reached up
and took the rope that was dangling from her left shoulder. He drew
it towards her right, then fitted the loop around her right breast.
He pushed the loop right against her ribs, then slowly, and
carefully adjusted the loop and tightened it.
"Paaulll," she moaned, when it tightened painfully.
He ignored her, and she felt the tremendous pressure in her
breast as the cone shaped orb was forced out into a fat, round ball
of hardened meat. He pulled the rope behind her and tied it off
somewhere near the small of her back, then too the other rope, the
one hanging over her right shoulder, and pulled it to her left,
putting the loop around that breast.
When he let her stand up her breasts were so taut, so tight
she thought they would explode from the pressure. They stuck out
like mushrooms, and she could hardly breath without the ropes
digging into her flesh.
She squeezed her thighs together, and came helplessly, gasping
and whining and shaking in place, moaning and humping feverishly.
Paul quickly slid his hand between her legs and squeezed down hard,
repeatedly crushing her pussy lips and the ropes inside them.
She sobbed in an agony of pleasure, her legs folding beneath
her and dropping her to her knees. She moaned and felt her head
boiling with an inferno of pleasure, engulfing her body in a
sizzling blaze of sexual power.
Paul continued to squeeze her pussy, and also ran his hand
over her taut breasts, pinching at the nipples as she came. Only
after her come had subsided, and she was laying there in the warm
afterglow, did he stop, and continue with his ropes.
He led the two ropes down her back, then pulled them around
her thighs just below her buttocks, tying them tightly, then led
them further down her legs before looping them around her legs just
above her knees. Again he tied them off tightly, then led them down
to her ankles, looped them around, and tied them off tightly.
By then she had recovered some strength. Her body was still
throbbing with sexual heat, though, and though she gasped in pain,
she offered no resistance as he pulled her to her knees...partly by
the arm, and partly by the hair. He had her kneel in front of him.
She couldn't even sit back on her heels, for that made the ropes
between her cunt lips cut up into her with tremendous pressure.
He stepped back and stripped naked, then, grinning, left her
and went into the bedroom. He returned with the camcorder on a
tripod. She turned a dark red, and though the idea of him taking
pictures of her like this was exciting, it was also shocking enough
for her to protest at last.
"Paaaul! Nooo!"
"Why not?"
"I...I don't want you to take videos of me like this!' she
gasped.
He grinned, then set up the camcorder, and went to the TV. He
rolled the TV over so she could see it clearly, then turned on the
VCR and put a tape in. She watched, her eyes going wide as she saw
what was on it.
He let the tape play, watching her reactions as she saw
herself writhing and screaming in orgasm, as she saw him running
the feather over her. Her entire body seemed to flush red, and she
thought for a moment he'd miscalculated, that she would abandon
their games and be furious.
But instead she began grinding and rubbing her thighs
together, and then slowly, groaning as she did, she lowered
herself, sitting back on her heels. Then she began to rise up and
down, as if she were fucking something, or...no...she was jerking
off on the ropes between her pussy lips!
He watched in excitement and fascination as she stared at the
TV as if hypnotised. She was breathing heavily, groaning and
gasping as her ass humped up and down. Then she sat down hard on
her heels and kind of ground her ass down on them. She flung her
head back, arching her back, and making her breasts strain even
more strongly.
Her head jerked back again, then again, then again, as her
entire body trembled and shook, then she lost her balance and fell
on her side, grunting and moaning as she rubbed herself against the
ropes.
He looked up at the camcorder and saw with satisfaction, that
she was still in it's vision, and that the small red light was on,
signifying that it was recording.
He felt his bulging erection, running his hand up and down it,
then got up and ran into the bedroom. He took the vibrator out of
the box he'd stored it in and hurried back to her,
She still lay on her side, but the orgasm seemed to have
passed. She was panting heavily, her eyes closed. He knelt beside
her and turned her onto her back, then lifted her legs and pressed
them back tightly against her chest. She groaned again, air puffing
out of her mouth. He reached down to her crotch, gripping the ropes
between her pussy lips. They were tight, very tight, but he was
able to pull down on the rope around her waist, easing the pressure
enough that, with some effort, he was able to slide the two strands
just an inch to one side.
He picked up the vibrator then, turned it on, and pressed it
against her exposed cunt hole. With her thighs actually bound
tightly together, her pussy hole was extremely tight. But she was
soaking wet, her pussy hair plstered against her sweating thighs
and drooling pussy mound.
He forced the rounded head of the vibrator against her hole
and shoved it down, twisting it from side to side as he slowly
worked it up into the groaning, moaning woman's fuck hole. He felt
the strain, the pressure around the plastic tube as he put his
weight on it, shoving it inside her, forcing the thing fully inside
her body.
It didn't quite disappear, though he pushed hard, but when he
eased the two loops of rope back over it Jamie groaned and writhed
briefly, then her breath rattled and her eyes closed.
Continued in part 5...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It’s okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with strangers.
But it isn’t okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with strangers!! You
only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 6