0 comments/ 62580 views/ 13 favorites Wicked Wife By: hobrigef Carla was sympathetic at first when Simon lost his job. Not easy, after all, for a man in his mid-forties when that happens. Though a dozen years younger than her husband (she'd been just 19 when they married), Carla was in any case the main breadwinner -- a high flying corporate lawyer, recently made partner, whereas Simon was a fairly low grade civil servant -- and so the couple's finances weren't dependent on Simon earning money. Just as well because after a year of trying he'd gotten nowhere and had pretty much given up. Forced (in his view) onto the scrapheap, Simon's self esteem took a tumble. Which was when Carla's sympathy started to evaporate. It's hard for a woman to have respect for her husband (isn't it?) when all he does is loll around the house and moan about how life isn't fair. In truth, Carla had realised for quite some time that she'd married below herself. In both looks and intelligence, she far outstripped her husband. At 33, she was in her prime both professionally (going from strength to strength at work, pulling down top dollar) and as a woman. She'd never felt more confident in herself ... she was smart, sexy, and she knew it. When she looked in the bathroom mirror after showering, she liked what she saw - a woman of medium height with a full sexy figure, dark wavy hair, smooth olive skin, a lovely face whose Italian ancestry shone through in the cheekbones, the flashing eyes, the full sensuous lips. She had long, shapely legs -- very sexy -- and perfect breasts. Her ass was the sort of ass men dribble over. Yes, Carla knew she was gorgeous and she revelled in the fact. The only fly in the ointment was Simon. Being stuck with an unemployed deadbeat husband, now totally dependent on her, had never been part of the plan. Life was great for her these days, of course, the whole thing had worked out very nicely, but for a time she'd been angry and frustrated at the situation. And once that wore off she found herself bored. Bored with her marriage, with Simon, with everything about him. She couldn't remember why she'd married him. He had no spark, seemed defeated, utterly ground down. Physically too, he no longer appealed. His hair was thinning. He'd developed a double chin, a pot belly, a general look of middle-aged and out-of-shape unattractiveness. Carla may have fancied him once (although it was difficult to imagine) but she certainly didn't now. At work, at her legal firm, she was surrounded by young, good looking guys who looked at her appreciatively, occasionally flirted with her even knowing she was married, and this only reinforced her growing lack of sexual interest in her husband. The loss of desire was not reciprocated, unfortunately. Simon still had the hots for his gorgeous young wife, it was about the only thing he was still good for. Trouble was, Carla didn't want HIM anymore and she started to turn him down more often than not. This was a further blow to Simon's ego. He knew that in Carla he had a wife who was out of his league and the fact he still had her, made love to her on a regular basis, was what just about kept him above water. As the sex dwindled to once or twice a month, and he realised even this was more than Carla wanted, so the little self-respect Simon had disappeared. It was devastating for him. Carla knew this (couldn't fail to since he was forever whimpering about how bad it made him feel, how sexually frustrated he was getting etc etc) but she was past caring about Simon's feelings. The more depressed and mopey he got, the more contempt she felt. God he was SUCH a loser, she thought, increasingly comparing him in her mind's eye to some of the hunky guys at the office and finding him wanting. Deciding that sex with Simon once or twice a month was once or twice too many, Carla cut him off entirely. They still slept together but sleep was all that happened. Or Carla slept, rather. Simon spent a large portion of the night either tossing and turning or laying there stewing and feeling sorry for himself. He did pretty much all the housework these days (Carla had made it clear she expected this, given his lack of a job), virtually never went out apart from shopping and running errands (ditto), had no money other than the (small) weekly allowance she gave him; the least she could do, in his opinion, was put out once in a while. His wife was turning into a proper little bitch, Simon thought, but he well realised his dependence on her and so didn't feel able to confront her about it. He did try once but she just sneered, told him he could leave if he didn't like it. Which of course he couldn't. He'd be on the streets and penniless. Carla had the income and the money, owned their house, their car, everything. She held all the cards and they both knew it. "Guess you'll just have to suffer in silence, won't you?" she smirked. "Given it looks like you'll be sticking around. You know, living in MY house." "Okay, Carla," he mumbled, hating the amused look on his wife's face. Hating himself for being such a wimp. And Carla WAS amused. It was starting to strike her that this scenario might not be so bad after all. Might be rather a giggle, in fact. She was already noticing the benefit of having Simon around as a kind of unpaid domestic help -- it was good to be free of all that crap herself -- and seeing him now so abject, she felt an enjoyable sense of power. So why not have some fun with the situation? ** ** ** ** Simon's life got steadily worse from this point onwards and Carla's a whole lot better. With her husband under her thumb, Carla started to revel in her control over him, to amuse herself at his expense. Simon protested now and again at the way she treated him ... kind of a cross between slave and lapdog ... but whenever this happened she would either totally ignore him, or laugh at him, or just raise an eyebrow and smirk and point mockingly at the door. All these outbursts did, in fact, was egg his wife on, feed her growing appetite for cruelty, for tormenting and humiliating him. It seemed the more miserable he was, the more she relished making him miserable. He was powerless. He was at Carla's beck and call and there was nothing he could do about it. Probably the hardest thing for Simon wasn't the non-stop drudgery, or the demeaning things she was always making him do, or the way she bossed him around the whole time as if he were a servant ... although all this was bad enough ... no, the worst thing was being cut off from sex. Simon still had a strong sex drive and it was frustrating in the extreme that he could no longer make love to Carla, especially given he found her as desirable as ever. More desirable, in fact, because not being able to have sex with her only made him want it more. Nights in particular, lying in bed next to his wife but not allowed to touch her, were torture. Carla knew this, of course, and just as Simon's acute sexual frustration was the thing he found hardest to bear about his unfortunate situation, so for Carla it was the aspect she most enjoyed. As much as she got a buzz out of ordering him around and generally treating him like a dog, this knowledge that being starved of sex was driving him crazy was what amused her more than anything. After a few months without it he was desperate, could hardly think of anything else. It wasn't quite so bad during the day, Monday to Friday, when Carla was at work (since he could always find time out from his chores to beat off ... three or four times was the norm) but when she was at home it was another story. Sexually relieving himself was virtually out of the question then (she'd told him it was a kicking out offence if she caught him, or even suspected) and furthermore he was faced with Carla's presence, with non-stop close proximity to the very thing he lusted for but was being denied. Carla noticed the way he looked at her around the house - like a hungry animal drooling over the sight of food -- and she found it hilarious. So funny how worked up he got whenever she wore, say, a short skirt or a revealing top. And it was incredibly easy to tease him! Carla did this all the time. Indulging her sadistic streak, she teased poor Simon without mercy. Sometimes she was subtle, pretended she didn't know what she was doing, and at other times she was quite blatant about it -- just depended on her mood. She drove him absolutely crazy, basically, and she loved every minute of it. Carla particularly enjoyed it when Simon, crazed with desire and inflamed beyond reason by her teasing, would occasionally 'lose it' and he'd start pleading, begging her for sex. "Please, Carla, PLEASE," he'd whimper. "Please Carla, just a handjob even. I can't stand this anymore!" But she would just smile mockingly and shake her head. Would make fun of him. "Aw, poor Simon. Poor, sex starved hubby. You only get to look at me now, don't you? And I'm such a tease too, aren't I? No, no handjob, I'm afraid. You'll have to wait till tomorrow when I'm at work. Give yourself one. You can kiss my toes, though, if you like. In fact, I insist -- come on my little pooch, kneel down and kiss my tutsies. Tell me how pretty and sexy I am, while you're doing it." Cue a giggling fit from Carla as her husband did as he was told. She knew he hated being called 'pooch', a name she'd come up with a while ago and made a point of using relentlessly. As well as teasing her poor husband, she now loved to humiliate him. "Mmm that's nice, Simon, keep going. Aw, poor little poochie. I shouldn't treat you like this, should I? It's cruel of me, I know. Thing is, pooch, I enjoy it. I enjoy it way too much to stop. This is all you're ever going to get, Simon, isn't that just sooo depressing?" Depressing it certainly was for the hapless Simon. His self-esteem always hit rock-bottom after one of these begging sessions. He hated himself for doing it; so demeaning to plead for scraps, to be called names, to be forced to grovel at his wife's feet, kiss her toes and tell her how gorgeous she was. Then to lie there later in bed, cock hard, desire raging and unfulfilled, to lie there next to the sleeping Carla, to the forbidden fruit ... this didn't make for a restful night. And she always slept naked, the evil bitch. Oh god. As for his wife, she was having a whale of a time. Because Carla herself certainly wasn't sex starved; Simon didn't know it (yet ... it was amongst the horrors to come) but his wife was getting all the action she could handle. Which was an awful lot. Somehow, the way she'd effortlessly turned her husband into a submissive wimp had liberated Carla to pursue sexual pleasure elsewhere, and looking the way she did, she was soon finding plenty of it. Carla felt good about herself and she started to revel in all the male attention she got at work. She dressed now in a way which provoked and inflamed ... her skirts got a little shorter, her tops a little more revealing ... and she enjoyed the affect this had on the guys in the office, enjoyed how they ogled, how they stepped up the flirting and tried desperately to impress. It was fun just teasing and flirting with the guys (and she did plenty of this) but Carla wanted more. No sex with Simon was one thing but no sex at all wasn't an option for a woman who loved it as much as she did. No longer wearing her wedding band, and talking quite openly now about being sick and tired of her "useless" husband, Carla signalled her availability and was soon deluged with offers. That so many hunky young guys wanted to date her and take her to bed was a thrilling boost to her ego, affirmed her as a very sexy and desirable woman. The guys competed with each other to win her affections and Carla egged them on for a while, loving being the object of such male lust and desire. She accepted several lunch invitations from several different guys and flirted outrageously over the pasta and white wine. She was tempted to start multiple affairs but was conscious of how this might compromise her position at the firm, she was a partner after all, and so she selected the guy she fancied the most ... Mike, also a partner, unmarried, a virile and handsome high flyer in his early thirties ... and they began having hot and steamy sex in the afternoons, using Mike's city centre apartment. It was close to the office and it was easy to slip away there for a couple of hours on most days. Mike was a great lover, passionate and inventive, far better than Simon had ever been, and Carla lapped it up. She told Mike about Simon, what a wimp he was, how she treated him like dirt and never had sex with him, and Mike found the whole thing hilarious. He particularly loved the idea of Carla deliberately teasing poor Simon and the two of them would often lie in bed, laughing fit to burst about that. Carla would regale Mike with tales of how she'd tantalised and tormented her unfortunate husband the previous night ... how she'd made him watch her take a slow sexy shower, for example, or maybe a bath ... how he'd been forced to pat her naked body dry with a towel ... how they'd then gone to bed and she'd 'accidentally' brushed his erection with her fingers before turning away and going to sleep, leaving him burning. Mike loved to hear all this. It turned him on no end that he was fucking this hot married woman and that her poor husband was getting nada. His cock would harden as Carla related the latest details. "Oh you are such a bitch, baby. The poor little bastard," he'd chuckle. Carla would giggle. "Yeah, aren't I just. Poor guy is absolutely gagging for it! And here's me teasing his brains out and getting all the great sex I want from my hunky lover. Life's not fair, sugar, is it?" All the time stroking Mike's cock, loving the full and hardening feel of it in her fingers, how turned on he was getting, looking forward to it going between her legs again very very soon, thrusting into her dripping wet pussy. She enjoyed feeding Mike's ego and belittling Simon to him. "Mmm feels sooo good, Mike honey," she'd moan. "You've got a MUCH bigger and better cock than my husband, baby, have I ever told you that?" "Only about a thousand times, Carla," Mike would grin, feeling like the king of the castle and getting even harder. "Fuck me now, Mike baby. I wanna feel that lovely big cock inside me. Oh yeah baby, fuck me hard. My husband can't have it but YOU can, lover. Take me, sugar. Fuck me fuck me fuck me!" Yes, life was now pretty much perfect for Carla. And Simon? Well quite the opposite. He'd noticed a couple of things and both weren't brilliant from his point of view. First, that Carla was now dressing and acting very sexy. Seeing her strutting around in short skirts, tight jeans, flimsy low-cut tops ... it drove him wild! Second, and he sensed related, she'd become ultra confident in herself (maybe because she was looking increasingly gorgeous and clearly knew it) and was becoming ever more mean and capricious in how she treated him. Her teasing, for example, was getting downright malicious a lot of the time -- she'd even started actively tormenting him in bed, toying with his poor hungry cock, getting it hard, making it throb, deliberately inflaming him. Then things worsened significantly. One morning, after a particularly cruel and frustrating night of tease and denial and very little sleep, Simon was helping Carla shower and get dressed, as was now part of their daily routine. She put on a sexy little skirt and got Simon to zip it up. She made him put her bra on for her (this was especially tantalising for poor Simon ... oh god, those fabulous tits!) and then she slipped a blouse on and ordered him do up the buttons, working bottom to top. "That's enough, pooch. Leave the rest undone. We want the guys at the office to get a nice view, don't we?" she giggled. She loved taunting him like this. Now her legs. Carla stood there in her short skirt and the naked Simon had to get down and massage cream into her long, luscious legs. This set his poor, frustrated cock on fire. Carla chuckled at the sight of his erection, gave it a maddening little tickle with her toes. "My legs really turn you on, Simon, don't they?" she smirked. "So tell me that, my little poochie poo. Come on, I wanna hear it. Tell Carla how much her little poochie pie loves her long, sexy legs." "Oh god Carla, your legs are so sexy," he had to say, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. "Mmm I know, Simon, I know. All the guys at the office think so too. You should see how they ogle! All I have to do is sit there and cross my legs and I've got about a dozen guys' complete attention. And I love it, pooch, I love it. I just love having men drool over my sexy legs. That's why I wear these short skirts. Do I look sexy in this short skirt, poochie?" "Yes, Carla," he mumbled, feeling lower than a worm. "What about the guys at work? Do you think they'll get horny, looking at me all day? Do you think me wearing this short skirt and this sexy blouse to the office will turn all those hunky guys on?" "Um, yes, Carla." Carla was enjoying this immensely. She decided to activate an evil little plan she'd been brewing up. "And Mike. What about Mike, poochie? Is he gonna get sooo horny, looking at me in this sexy little skirt and this sexy little blouse, that he's gonna take me to his place and fuck me senseless all afternoon? ... Like he usually does, in other words." "Mike?" stuttered Simon, feeling wretched as the meaning of her words sunk in. Carla burst out laughing. "Yeah, Mike. My lover. He's the guy I'm fucking, Simon. You didn't think I planned to live without getting laid, did you? It's only losers like you who never get laid. Aren't you happy for me?" Simon couldn't speak. "I'll take that as a yes," said Carla, still laughing. "And you should be happy for me, Simon, because I'm your wife, right? Right. I'm your hot, sexy wife and I'm getting deliciously fucked every day, made love to by a gorgeous, hunky man who really knows how to satisfy a woman. Mike's got a great cock, Simon, much bigger than yours, and he knows exactly what to do with it. The sex is fabulous. God, poochie, Mike is such a good lover. Oh and he's a partner at the firm too, same as me. He's rich and successful, pooch. Got a great job. He's everything I want in a man. Yeah, I guess that's the thing ... Mike is a MAN, Simon, not a little lapdog like you." Simon was blubbing. He knew he ought to kick against this, that if he didn't he'd be utterly lost, but he found that he couldn't. He remained kneeling before his wife and said nothing. Carla's power over him had grown and grown and was now absolute. They both knew it. Carla gazed down, grinning, savouring the sight of her crushed and abject husband, revelling in her total control of this wretched man. "Anyway, look," she continued, "next week you can meet him. That'll be nice, won't it? I'm hitting the town with him on Friday, straight after work, and then I'll bring him back here and he'll be staying the weekend ... right through to Sunday, I hope. So is this okay with you, my little pooch? Just nod." Simon nodded. It wouldn't be 'okay' of course, he dreaded it, but what could he do? At which point, Carla told him to fetch her shoes. Ready to go now, she mockingly blew him a kiss and sashayed off to work, reminding him to pick up her dry-clean. ** ** ** ** She got the hoped-for reaction from Mike when she told him the plan. To say he was all for it was understatement of the century. The biggest, most shit-eating grin spread across his handsome and slightly cruel face ... he looked like a wolf contemplating his prey, thought Carla (approvingly) ... and he started to chuckle. Wicked Wife "So, let me get this straight, baby. I get to spend pretty much the whole of next weekend fucking your brains out, over at your place, and this wimp of a husband of yours is gonna be there the whole time, having to watch. That correct, honey?" "Yeah, exactly. Be big fun, baby, won't it?" said Carla. She was giggling and playing with his cock. Fingering and licking it. "And plus, I'll get to watch you cockteasing the poor little sod before you blow and fuck me?" "Sure baby. I'll really cocktease him. I'll tease him till he weeps, then we'll make him watch us fuck. Watch us close up. Watch my hunky, virile lover getting everything he can't have." "Can hardly wait, Carla baby. Oh yeah!" Carla could see how much this was appealing to the cruel streak in Mike and she found herself looking forward to next Friday all the more. Poor Simon, she thought. Poor little hubby. He didn't know how bad this was going to be for him. And Mike didn't yet know quite how great it was going to be for HIM. Time to share the best bit. She broke off from sucking her lover's dick, looked up at him with a sly smile. "Oh and you can ... you know ... mess about with him yourself too, sweetie, if you feel like it." "How do you mean, baby girl, mess about with him?" asked Mike. "I mean do stuff to him, sugar. Slap him around a little. Fact, you can torture poor old Simon if you want. We both can but mainly you, I'm thinking. I'll cocktease him and all ... which IS a kind of torture, let's face it ... and you can come up with a few other fiendish ways to make him suffer." "Will you do that for me, sweetheart? I really want you to," she smiled. "Fuck yeah, Carla babe! Fuck yeah. I'm your man for that," exclaimed Mike. "Thought you'd like the idea, baby," said Carla. "And I'll watch" she grinned. "Because that will really turn me on, sugar, watching my big bad hunky loverman torturing the shit out of my wimp husband. Making him yelp and scream for mercy. Maybe I'll join in now and again. Depending how I feel." Mike's expression was rather devilish. "Baby, you are one sexy evil little bitch, you know that?" Carla giggled. Mike was spot on -- a sexy evil bitch was exactly what she'd become and she was loving every minute of it. "So you reckon you can manage that then, do you baby? A weekend of fucking the guy's wife in front of him, plus generally torturing and humiliating the poor thing to your heart's content?" "Fuck yeah! I love you, Carla honey, I really do. Bring it on, gorgeous. Can't wait." The two of them couldn't stop laughing. Mike started rapping out ideas of how he might torture Simon, each one more horrific than the last, with Carla giggling, egging him on. She was amazed and delighted at how cruel he could be. It was going to be one hell of a weekend! She congratulated herself on her taste in lovers; all this sadistic imagination plus major league prowess in bed and dreamboat looks ... a hunky body and a lovely big cock. She was a lucky girl. "God you are SUCH a bastard, sweetheart," she giggled, hearing the latest. "But yeah, sugar, do that to him if you like. I love it. God, poor poor Simon. Can you imagine how he's gonna be screaming? We'd probably better gag him else he'll shout the house down, poor thing." "Good thinking, gorgeous. Plus I'll bring cuffs and chains and a couple of other things which might be useful. All fit into my bag, no problem." ** ** ** ** The days passed ... too slowly for Carla and Mike, too quickly for Simon ... and then it was the Friday in question. At a few minutes before midnight, Simon heard the key in the door and the sound of laughter -- female and male. He'd waited up as Carla had instructed him to do and was sat on the sofa wearing only a pair of boxer shorts (she'd told him this too). He felt ridiculous and also full of trepidation. They came in, his wife looking ravishing in her figure-hugging, short black dress and her lover, this Mike guy, ultra-smart in polished loafers, a beautifully tailored blue suit and open-necked white cotton shirt. Simon immediately felt inferior -- would have done even if fully dressed -- felt small and fat and ugly next to this sleek, handsome stranger. That he knew Mike was fucking his wife on a regular basis didn't help any either. Carla and her lover had been drinking and were in high and ribald spirits. Simon sensed this didn't bode well for him. Mike sauntered over. "Hey Simes," he grinned, "how's it hanging, dude?" He ruffled Simon's hair. "Heard a lot about you from sexy Carla here." "Er ... okay," mumbled Simon, already feeling extremely embarrassed and humiliated. Mike grinned down at him. "Okay 'Mr Mike', I think you mean. Where's your manners, dude?" Carla giggled. "Yeah, poochie. He's Mr Mike to you." "Okay, Mr Mike," said the abject Simon. "That's better, turdface. Fine for me to call you turdface, I presume?" "Yes, Mr Mike," muttered Simon. Mike sniggered. "Stunning look you've got going there, I must say. Turdface. Yeah, that 'chubby little wimp in his boxers' vibe is just right for you. Really suits." Carla giggled at this. "Thank him, pooch. Thank Mr Mike for the compliment." "Thanks, Mr Mike." Mike burst out laughing. Christ, what a wimp! Carla hadn't been exaggerating one iota. This was going to be an absolute scream. "Yeah, heard a lot about you. Heard you're a total dildo, basically. Like, apparently it's cool for me to spend the weekend here, fucking your hot wife and generally treating you like a piece of shit. Is this correct?" "Yes, Mr Mike." "Good for you," Mike sneered, "cos I'd be doing it whether it was okay with you or not. Hey Carla babe, can I give him a couple of slaps right now. I'm kinda just in the mood." "Sure, sweetheart," giggled Carla. "Be my guest." Mike slapped Simon around the face a few times. Casually but quite hard. Carried on until poor Simon's cheeks were glowing red and he was blubbing. Carla looked on, giggling. This was going to be such fun! "Punch him if you like, baby," she grinned. "Should I? You're sure, baby girl?" "Yeah go on, sugar, you have my total permission to punch him." "What, like hard?" "Hard as you like, sweetie. Just enjoy yourself." Mike drew back his fist and punched Simon full in the face. The force was such that poor Simon was thrown off the sofa and was left chewing carpet on the floor. His mouth was bleeding. "Oh fuck, he's making a mess," said Mike, grinning at Carla. "Gonna ruin your nice carpet, babe" Carla giggled. "Don't worry, sweetie, he'll be cleaning the whole place up Monday morning. You wanna kick him around a bit, honey? ... now he's grovelling on the floor." "Do I ever!" grinned Mike. He set about the task with relish, gave the cowering Simon a good kicking to his ribs, his stomach, his butt. Carla watched, clapping and laughing. "Oh my god, baby, you can sure put the boot in, can't you? Listen to the poor thing yelp!" And Simon certainly was yelping. "Yeah, he's a noisy little fucker, isn't he? Maybe we should gag him right now," said Mike, when he'd finally finished and Simon lay snivelling in agony. "Should we do that, Carla baby, do you think?" "Nah," said the grinning Carla. "I like the sound of him crying. Any case this is nothing is it, sweetie? Compared to what we've got planned for the poor thing. We'll gag him when you start to REALLY torture him." Simon was listening and he cried even harder. He was very frightened now. "Hear that, dude?" said Mike, sneering down at Simon, prodding him with his foot. "Carla says I can torture the fuck out of you all weekend if I want to. And I DO want to, Simes, I really do. It'll make me horny, see, doing all sorts of evil stuff to you, and when I'm horny Carla gets a world-class fuck. That's why she says I can torture the shit out of you -- cos she knows it means she'll get a world-class fuck. That, plus she just likes the idea. Yeah, turdyface, your hot, sexy wife Carla here really likes the idea of watching me torture you. She told me. It'll make her pussy wet, she said. Turn her on something rotten. Can you imagine? Shit, Simes, I wouldn't wanna be you this weekend for all the tea in China." Simon just lay there whimpering on the floor. Carla strolled over to join Mike and the two of them stood for a while, gazing down at Simon and laughing. Jeez, what a loser. She placed one of her stiletto-clad feet on her husband's stomach and ground it in, making him squeal. "Ouch!" said Mike, chuckling. He squeezed Carla's ass through her dress, letting her know how turned on he was. Carla giggled down at Simon. "Oooo, it looks like Mike's feeling sexy! Looks like he's ready to take me on the sofa right now and fuck my brains out. What do YOU think, pooch? Do you think my hunky lover wants to fuck me? Just nod, Simon. Nod if you agree that Mike wants to fuck your hot, sexy wife." Simon nodded. He had to, he knew as much, but in any case he could see it was true. The bastard guy was fondling Carla's ass and had a very serious bulge in his pants. "So go on then, pooch. Tell him he can. Fact, tell him you WANT him to. Tell Mr Mike you want him to fuck your hot, sexy wife." "I want you to fuck my hot, sexy wife, Mr Mike," grimaced poor Simon. It was the last thing in the world he wanted. What he wanted was for this to end. For the big, good looking bastard to leave and not come back. "How about you ask me nicely, dude?" smirked Mike. "Ask me really really nicely and I might think about it." And he made Simon grovel at his feet and beg. Beg another man to fuck his wife ... the gorgeous looking wife who was giggling with delight and was rubbing Mike's hard-on through his pants. What a scream, thought Mike. Could life get any better? Yes, it could ... and it did. Carla slipped off her shoes and she made her husband kiss her feet and tell her how sexy and desirable she was. Then she bent down and pulled off Simon's boxers. "Oh my god, it's a fat ugly naked man!" shouted Mike. "Yeah, isn't it just," giggled Carla. "So, sugar, how about I tease poor little hubby here for a while, then he can watch you take me?" "Oh yeah, baby!" Mike's face was flushed with excitement. "You relax on the sofa then, sweetheart. Simon, go fetch Mike a nice, cold beer." Simon scurried off naked to the kitchen. He came back with the beer and found Mike stripped off and lounging on the sofa, his clothes in a pile on the floor. Shit, the guy had an awesome body! Like an athlete. Simon felt very ugly and fat, and generally pathetic. He handed a glass of chilled beer to the grinning Mike. "Thanks, Simon, you're a prince," Mike drawled, winking at Carla. "Hey what about some nuts, dude? You got any nuts?" Simon nodded. "Then what are you waiting for, turdface? I'm peckish. Bring me a bag of nuts." Mike slapped him on the ass. "Go fetch, boy!" Poor Simon scurried off again, the cruel pair's mocking laughter ringing in his ears. "Are you nice and comfortable now, sweetie?" asked Carla, a couple of minutes later, with Mike settled on the sofa with his beer and his nuts. She really was enjoying this! "Yeah sugar, I'm good. What about my clothes, though? Shouldn't slaveboy here be putting them away in the closet or something?" "You heard the man, pooch," said Carla, looking at Simon and pointing at Mike's clothes. "Put them away nice and neat, then come back here so I can tease that sad little cock of yours. Be quick. And take his bag up into the bedroom while you're at it. Oh and that's the MAIN bedroom obviously ... Mike will be sleeping with me." Simon did as he was told. "Okay poochie, now stand there and put your arms behind your back," ordered Carla, when he'd returned to the lounge. She turned to Mike and winked. "So what do you think, baby? A little striptease first? Get the poor thing nicely worked up?" "Go for it, babe," said her lover, grinning wolfishly, fingering his now very large erection. Mike was really looking forward to this. The prospect of the sex-starved wimp being cruelly tantalised by his hot wife ... by a wife the poor little sod never got to fuck but Mike could have any old time he wanted ... was just soooo horny. He wasn't disappointed. Carla slowly stripped naked in front of Simon, giggling at her long-deprived husband's immediate and obvious arousal. And then she teased him half to death. Grinning across at Mike, Carla sensuously rubbed her naked body up against poor, sexually frustrated Simon, front and back, driving him insane with lust. Every nerve in Simon's body was screaming for him to get hold of his gorgeous, teasing bitch of a wife, to throw her down and ravage her ... but he couldn't lay a finger on her, just had to stand there, motionless, hands behind his back. Carla started doing things between his legs with her fingers. Stimulating him down there. Squeezing and tickling and stroking his balls and the shaft of his erect little cock. She did it just very lightly but for a man in poor Simon's desperate condition it was quite enough to make him orgasm. Or it would have been, rather, except Carla seemed to always sense when he was about to come ... his cock about to explode ... at which point she'd giggle and take her fingers away, leave him on the edge but not quite there. She tormented him like this for ages, kept him cruelly on the very verge of coming but unable to. It was sheer torture and by the end she had him weeping with frustration, bucking his hips wildly and begging for release. Simon had gotten used to being cockteased by Carla, of course, but nothing like this. This was something else. His ordeal was made all the worse by the fact his wife's lover was sat there watching and she was clearly doing this especially for him -- for this bastard Mike guy. As for Mike, he was enjoying this more than anything he could remember. He sat sipping his beer, nibbling the nuts, cackling at the spectacle and generally showing his appreciation. "Oh Carla baby, you are SUCH a tease. That is fucking EVIL," he yelled. "Oh yeah, honey, tease the poor bastard's cock off! This is making me horny, baby, making me very very horny." All of which encouraged the giggling Carla to tease poor Simon even more. "It's making me horny too, baby," said Carla, pouting at Mike. She had her back to Simon, gyrating her arse into his groin. She could see her avidly-watching lover was on heat and she licked her lips. "Do you wanna have me now, baby? Do you wanna fuck? Should I stop teasing poor hubby, come over and fuck my hunky loverman instead?" Mike grinned and stretched out on the sofa. "Oh yeah, baby! Come here you horny bitch. Come get fucked by a REAL man." Carla giggled. She led Simon over to the sofa by his cock and told him to stand there. Then she straddled Mike and they got busy. The pair had hot, steamy sex on the sofa, right under poor Simon's nose. They made sure he could see everything, kept glancing up to check he was looking. Laughed when they saw he was. "Look how I pleasure my lover, Simon," said Carla, suckling away at Mike's dick. "I tease his lovely cock but only to make it big and hard and ready to fuck me. 'Cos he always DOES get to fuck me, pooch, unlike poor little you. Mike gets to thrust his big cock into my nice warm juicy pussy and fuck me till he explodes. Explodes right inside me. Can you imagine how great that feels for him? Mmm, bet you can. Maybe you can even remember when I let YOU do it. How long is it now? Aw, you poor frustrated thing! And having to watch too. We're wicked, aren't we, Mike and I, fucking in front of you like this?" Her wretched husband just stood there. He'd never felt more humiliated and ridiculous. Adding to his shame was he had a full erection, watching them make out ... god, his wife had such a dynamite body! ... and Carla, just for a giggle, had draped her discarded silk panties over it. Mike gave a chuckle when she did this. "Least his dick's good for something, baby, eh?" he smirked, making Carla crack up. It wouldn't be so bad if he could reach down and jerk off, but of course he couldn't. On Monday morning, sure, when she'd gone to work, but Monday seemed a long way away to Simon right now. Carla kept on tormenting the hapless Simon. "I give him blowjobs too, pooch. Never gave you one of those even before, did I? But Mike gets loads. All he has to do is ask and I go down on him, give him a lovely satisfying blowjob, I wrap my lips around his big hard juicy cock and I suck it till he comes in my mouth. He loves every minute of it!" Mike was like the cat with the cream, lying on his back, grinning up at Simon whilst he and Carla made out. They did heavenly things to each other's bodies, fondled and stroked all over, both of them moaning and purring with pleasure. "Just LOVING having your wife, dude," Mike taunted. "Should I stick my cock in her pussy now, do you reckon? You know, fuck her good and proper." Simon kind of nodded, or maybe just jerked his head, it was hard to tell. Carla, giggling and turned on by this utter humiliation of her husband, forced him to say it. "Yes, Mr Mike. I think you should fuck her now. Fuck her good and proper," muttered Simon. Laughing like a drain, Mike flipped Carla into the doggy position and he fucked her from behind. Fucked her slowly at first, then hard and fast. He turned towards Simon as he was doing it, face just inches away, and he stared sneeringly and triumphantly into his eyes. "Fucking your wife now, wimpboy. Fucking your hot, sexy wife. Look down there, turdbrain, look at my cock going in and out of her juiced-up pussy. Listen to her squeal. She's loving it, isn't she? She's loving it, the horny little bitch. Bet you'd rather be me than you, wouldn't you? Lucky bastard, aren't I? Yeah, I bet you wish you were a lucky bastard like me, rather than a useless little piece of shit." "Spit in his face, baby," Carla grunted, writhing with pleasure. Mike did. He spat full in Simon's face and then his whole body shook and shuddered as he and Carla climaxed together in a shattering mutual orgasm. The two lovers lay there for a while, luxuriating in the afterglow, savouring the situation, enjoying the obvious distress of the abject Simon. "Mmm that was yummy, Mike baby," purred Carla, snuggling into him. "God, my hunky loverman knows how to satisfy a woman. You're the best, darling, the absolute best." "You too, baby girl," grinned Mike. "You're one gorgeous, sexy woman. Hey, so what about this mess?" "The mess? None of your concern, my darling one. Simon will clean everything up when you're gone. Told you that, sweetie, didn't I?" "Oh yeah, baby, right. Of course. Our little slaveboy." "Mainly YOUR little slaveboy, darling" said Carla. "You're in charge this weekend, remember. My gorgeous, hunky lover can do or have anything he wants. Anything." Mike grinned and sprung up from the sofa. "Hey my bag's in the bedroom, right?" "Yes, sugar." "So what are we waiting for, babe. Let's go!" Carla grinned and got up. "We're off upstairs to bed now, pooch. You come too. We'll walk and you crawl after us on your hands and knees, okay?" "Okay, Carla," mumbled Simon, trying not to guess what they had in store for him next. ** ** ** ** The bedroom was a large affair with ensuite bathroom. "Whoo baby, impressive!" whistled Mike. "And don't we just love the four poster," he said, looking at the large, wrought-iron bed which dominated the centre of the room. "And it'll see some action at long last, lover, won't it?" giggled Carla. "You betcha!" grinned Mike. "Now then," he said, turning to Simon who was crouched on the floor by the door, "... about turdface over there." 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. Wicked Wife She wanted more. "You missed his toes, sugar. He has a teeny bit of hair there, doesn't he?" Her lovely face was flushed with pleasure and excitement. This was as good as being fucked! "Sorry, gorgeous," grinned her lover. "Do in between as well, sugar," she instructed. She was shameless now, very much the complete and utter bitch, revelling in this. "You got it, babe," said Mike. "Now flip him, darling, and do his front bits. You know, round his silly little dick. Do him down there for me, baby." It took Mike a minute or two to undo and turn Simon over, to re-secure him on his back. Simon put up a bit of a fight but, debilitated from the pain and torture of the last few hours, was no match for his powerful, grinning tormentor. Seeing the poor wretch struggle, clearly terrified, only made the whole thing more enjoyable for Mike and Carla. "Hey Carla, do you wanna hear him beg for mercy?" "Yeah, sugar," she grinned. "Take his gag off." Mike released the gag from Simon's mouth and the evil couple were rewarded with a stream of abject pleading from their sobbing, agonised victim. "Oh god, please Carla, please Mr Mike ... stop hurting me ... let me go now, please please PLEASE let me go!" They laughed and kept him at it, savouring their total power. "Okay that's enough," giggled Carla, finally. "He's starting to annoy me. Gag him again, sweetheart, and get that flame going." "No Carla, please god no. Noooo!" ... but Simon's screams were cut off by the gag and Mike was soon back at work. "And don't forget his balls, his balls are quite hairy," giggled Carla. Mike obliged. "Not so hairy now, sugar, are they?" he grinned. Carla could hardly speak, she was crying so much with laughter. "Now his eyebrows, sweetie. Plus those horrible hairs he's got sprouting from his nostrils ... get rid of all that for me, sweetheart." "No problem, gorgeous," grunted Mike, and he got going again with the lighter. "So, anywhere else?" he asked, when he'd finished. "Just say, Carla baby. Your wish is my command." "Mmm, well maybe do his nipples, sugar, but then let's leave him for a bit. I wanna go fuck," giggled Carla. She was feeling incredibly sexy and horny. "But there's no hair there, baby girl." "I know, darling, but I wanna see you do it. You know, just for a laugh. And do it real slow this time, baby. Make the poor thing almost pass out." Mike burned Simon's nipples with the lighter and he made it count. He slowly and sadistically roasted them. Simon screamed and screamed but the leather gag was very effective and the only sounds emitted were faint and muffled and indecipherable. Just a continuous "Ugg Ugg Ugg." Carla, wanting a close-up, wanting to wallow in her poor husband's ordeal, went over and crouched by Simon, looked deep into his eyes as Mike tortured him. His hellish suffering was evident in his expression and Carla, giggling gleefully, drank it in. "Aw, poor Simon," she cooed softly. "My poor poor little pooch." Then they left him there and went upstairs to fool around and fuck. ** ** ** ** It was evening when they woke, Carla first this time. She stretched languorously in the bed, yawned, then spent a while luxuriating in the delicious feeling a woman has when she's been expertly and passionately fucked by an attractive virile man, has slept sweetly and woken in his arms. And darling Mike had gone down on her too, had given her a lovely orgasm with his tongue. Yummy! Knowing that her poor, tortured husband - battered, bruised, burnt -- remained manacled to the floor in the lounge had made the sex with Mike even better for Carla. She chuckled softly, thinking about Simon down there. God, she was SUCH an evil bitch! Feeling horny again all of a sudden, she turned to the sleeping Mike and began gently stroking him. Her soft, sexy fingers explored his chest, his belly, then slid slowly down between his legs. "Fuck me again, baby," she whispered, feeling his strong, muscular body respond to her rousings. Mike grunted, still half asleep. Carla giggled, rolled onto her back, opened her legs. "I want you, lover," she purred. She stroked her glistening pussy for him -- she was moaning with desire. "I want you, big boy. C'mon baby, I'm on heat! I want you right this minute." Mike, fully awake now and grinning lustily, got the message. He mounted her, cock large and fully erect, and she guided him in. Afterwards, they showered and got dressed (both in jeans and tee-shirts) and went downstairs. Simon heard them coming and his heart sank. He was in a dreadful state by now, stretched out in helpless agony on the floor, but still just about conscious. Wished he wasn't, but he was. Carla and Mike strolled into the lounge, holding hands and laughing. "Well what have we here, Carla babe? Is it a fat ugly guy?" "No, sweetie," said Carla. "I'd say it's more of a fat ugly BALD guy. Yuck!" "Yeah. Every girl's dream, baby, isn't he?" sniggered Mike. Simon started to sob through the gag, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. This delighted the jeering couple. "Aw, the poor thing is crying," giggled Carla. There followed some good news and some bad news for Simon. The good news was they took his gag out and set him free (even took the dog collar off). The bad news was that Carla kicked him in the balls first, kicked him twice, both times full and hard. "Oh baby, that's gotta hurt!" grinned Mike. "Poor little baldy!" Poor Simon tried to struggle to his feet but found he couldn't; could only lie doubled up and whimpering in pain on the floor. "Oh come on, Simon," said Carla, looking down at him. "Don't be such a weed. Look, pooch, there's things to do, I want you up and on your feet double quick!" Simon did finally stand up. It was painful but he managed it. "Way to go, turdface," said Mike, clapping sarcastically. "Well done, old fruit." Then, to Carla's unbridled amusement, he pushed Simon over, sent him crashing once more to the floor. "Try again, baldy," he sneered. Simon, hating Mike with every fibre of his being, struggled up for a second time. Whereupon Mike grinned and lazily but firmly pushed him over again. "Whoops, sorry, dude. Should we go again?" He kept this cruel game up until the giggling Carla eventually called a halt. Poor Simon had hit the deck a couple of dozen times by then. "Okay, Mike sweetie, enough. It's fun, I know it is, but I'm getting hungry. It's way past my usual dinner time. Aren't you hungry, baby?" Mike looked at his watch. "Yeah, babe, guess I am. What are we having?" "I'll go see in a minute," said Carla. She smiled sweetly down at her husband. "Are YOU hungry, pooch? You must be." "Yes, Carla," he mumbled. It was true. He'd missed dinner on Thursday (Carla hadn't been 100% happy with his housework and no food was his punishment), Friday he'd been too nervous to eat with knowing she was bringing Mike home later, and today he'd obviously had nothing. In fact, Simon realised, he was famished! "And thirsty? Are you thirsty as well, poochie?" Simon nodded. He was. He was extremely thirsty; all he'd drank in the last 24 hours was a glass of piss. "Well let's all go have dinner in the kitchen then!" announced Carla "What, me too?" asked Simon. "Of course you too, poochie!" she laughed. "Go put some clothes on first, though." Simon laboured up from the floor. "And not jeans, Simon. Me and Mike might be all casual this evening but I want you to make an effort. Suit jacket, white shirt and tie ... okay?" "Um, what about trousers?" asked Simon. "No trousers," said Carla, grinning now. "Naked from the waist down, in fact." Jeers and laughter from Mike. "Mmm that'll be a cool look, dude, won't it?" Simon stumbled off upstairs, unhappy about the dress code but consoling himself with at least getting some nourishment. He really was starving hungry and very very thirsty! A few minutes later Simon came down, attired as Carla had instructed. He looked absolutely ridiculous. Mike and Carla fell about laughing. They erupted. "Haven't you forgotten something, Simon?" spluttered Carla, giggling uncontrollably "But, errr Carla, you said no pants," protested Simon, slightly confused. "Empress Carla," she said. "You said no pants, Empress Carla." "Or maybe just 'Empress' will do," she giggled. "Empress, I thought you said to leave my pants off. You know, naked from the waist down?" Simon was humiliating himself, he knew this, but the prospect of dinner drove him on. "Yeah, but I didn't mean barefoot," said Carla. "The Empress didn't mean that. Go put some shoes and socks on, for heaven's sake! Your smart black brogues. You know, the ones you used to wear when you had a job." "And your bowler hat," she giggled. Simon lumbered off again towards the stairs, Mike and Carla laughing uproariously. "And pooch, take a good long look in the mirror before you come back down," she called after him. "Check yourself out and make sure you've got it right this time. Otherwise no dinner for you." Mike was wetting himself. "Oh baby, you are a 24 carat, class A bitch!" Upstairs, Simon did as he'd been told and the mirror told an awful tale. What he saw in there was a man shorn of all dignity -- somehow his 'top half city gent, bottom half nude' outfit looked even more absurd with shoes and socks on. But it was the sight of his head, bald now but for the odd tuft of hair, which distressed him the most. The bowler hat covered this, thankfully, but poor Simon nevertheless felt and looked wretched - it was all he could do not to break down and cry. Carla's promise of something to eat and drink shortly was about the only thing keeping him from utter despair. The lovers pretty much lost it when Simon returned. Just could not stop laughing. They were bent double. God, what a fucking sight! "Oooo, so smart!" cackled Carla, at last trusting herself to speak. "Yeah babe, you're not kidding," snickered Mike. "Reckon he could easily pass for a partner at the firm, Carla sugar, don't you?" "Oh very definitely!" giggled Carla. "That's exactly what he looks like. Bet it's making you feel a bit underdressed, baby, isn't it? "It is, gorgeous, it sure is. Well dressed, handsome fucker he is." "So ... dinner time ... shall we?" said Carla, and she took her two men by the hand and led them to the kitchen. ** ** ** ** Mike and Simon sat opposite each other at the (smallish) square kitchen table whilst Carla busied herself around the stove. "Gee, been a while since I cooked for one man never mind two," she said. "Hope it's gonna be okay!" "It'll be delicious, baby," said Mike. "Everything you do is delicious." He grinned across at Simon. "Isn't that right, dude?" "Yes, Mr Mike," said Simon. Carla hadn't fixed dinner for him in ages (she did no domestic work at all these days) but she was a good cook when she put her mind to it. He remembered as much. "Why thank you, boys!" said Carla, flirtatiously, putting two good-sized T-bones under the grill. She turned, smiling, to Mike and Simon. "Steak for the hungry men? Plus a nice salad?" "Great, babe. Can't wait," said Mike. "Okay for you too, Simon?" "Oh yes, Carla! Steak would be fine for me," he burbled. "Who's this 'Carla' person? I'm an Empress, remember?" "Sorry, Empress. Yes, Empress, steak will be fine for me. Thank you, Empress!" Carla nodded. "Good. So steak it is. Not for me, though. Think I'll just have the salad." She resumed preparations, pleasantly conscious of the two men watching her appreciatively. Yes, she knew how hot she looked in her jeans and skimpy tee-shirt. "A woman has to watch her figure after all." Carla said this just as she bent to check on the steaks. She bent right down from the waist and thus gave the guys the most mouth-watering view of her ass. It looked unbelievably good in tight jeans, as she was very well aware. Mike grinned leerily. "Dude, your wife is one sexy piece. Just look at that ass! Enough to make a grown man cry." Simon WAS looking at Carla's ass and it was having its usual impact. Despite the fact he'd been viciously kicked in the nether regions very recently he could feel his dick stirring. Looking down, he saw that indeed it was. Simon started to fret. He was worried that Carla would get annoyed if she noticed, would maybe think twice about feeding him. Oh god, if only he had some pants on! Carla pouted and did a flirty little twirl for them, enjoyed how they looked at her, the desire writ large across both their faces. "Hey, enough of the ogling, you guys. It's steak on the menu, not me!" she giggled. Mike grinned at her. "How about a beer while we're waiting, gorgeous?" "Sure, baby," said Carla, opening the fridge. She grabbed a can of beer, pulled the ring, put it down in front of Mike. Simon couldn't help but look longingly at it. He was so very thirsty. Well and truly parched. Carla noticed him staring. "What about you, Simon? There's plenty." "Please Empress, yes!" he said, nodding vigorously. "Okay." Simon swallowed hard and licked his lips in anticipation. God, he was going to murder this beer! Now? ... or with your dinner?" Carla asked. "I'd probably prefer it if you waited," she continued, before he could answer. "I know Mike can handle it but beer might spoil your appetite, I'm thinking." "With my dinner then, Empress," said Simon, sadly. He could have handled it no problem. Ah well. Mike tipped the cold beer to his mouth and drank it in one go, some of it splashing on his chin. The gagging Simon watched enviously. He now felt even more thirsty! "Ah, that was good!" Mike grunted, wiping his mouth, crushing the empty can and slapping it back down on the table. "Another one, darling?" asked Carla. "Yeah babe, thanks." "How about a glass this time, sweetheart?" "Sure." Carla reached high into a cabinet and her flimsy top slid a long way up, revealing a tantalising amount of smooth, lightly tanned torso. She footled around for quite some time up there, finally retrieving a glass. She poured the beer and brought it over to Mike, leant low and slow across the table as she did so, tee-shirt gaping, and both men got a lingering view of her breasts. Then she sashayed back across the kitchen, wiggling her ass, Mike and Simon lustily following her every move. "I do believe your hot, sexy wife is teasing us," grinned Mike. "Yeah, proper little cockteaser she is, Simes, don't you think? The woman just cannot help herself. And fuck, don't know about you, dude, but I'd say it's working. Got a boner in my pants now." Simon didn't dare comment. He too had a boner ... very much so ... but the trouble was, his one was free-to-air and uncovered. Mike, sipping at his second beer, pointed at the empty can from his first. "D'you wanna put this in the trashcan, dude?" he said to Simon. "Um, okay, Mr Mike." Simon picked up the can and trotted across to the bin in the corner. The sight of him on his feet cracked Mike up. "Dude, you really do look like Twat Of The Year," he chuckled. Suit jacket, shirt and tie, butt naked from the waist down, black brogues, bowler hat ... Simon did look absolutely risible He also still had a stonking hard-on. "Don't be mean, Mike," said Carla, fighting back laughter. Simon knew his erection was embarrassingly obvious as he stood there by the bin - his shirt wasn't long enough to provide even a modicum of cover. He scampered back to his seat as quick as he could, hoping for the best. No dice - it'd been noticed. "Hey, looks like old Simon's all turned on by you too, Carla babe. Glad it's not just me." Carla giggled. "Mmm, so I just saw!" "Your fault, gorgeous," grinned Mike. "Your fault for being just about the sexiest piece of ass this side of the sun." "Thank you, kind sir," said Carla, coquettishly. "Course, if you weren't running round the place in those skin-tight jeans and that itsy bitsy tee-shirt maybe you wouldn't be driving us two red-blooded males quite so fucking crazy, baby, would you? Wouldn't be giving me and Simon here boners when we're meant to be thinking about dinner." "I'm right, dude, aren't I?" continued Mike. "She's a fucking tease, isn't she, your missus?" "Aren't I, Simon?" he repeated, demanding an answer. "Um, I suppose so, Mr Mike," mumbled Simon, warily. "What, dude? You suppose what?" Simon stayed silent. "I said what, dude?" Mike persisted. "What exactly is it that you suppose?" "That Carla ... the Empress, I mean ... can be a bit of a tease," Simon blurted. "Thank you, dude! Shit, like blood from a stone sometimes." "Hear that, Carla babe?" Mike grinned. "Your husband here concurs with me. He thinks you're a grade 1 cockteaser as well. What do you say to that, babe?" Carla considered for a moment. "What do I say to that? I'll tell you what I say to it ... I say that I'm none too pleased to hear that sort of thing from my husband. Don't mind YOU calling me a cocktease, being my lover and all, but it's not nice from him, no not nice at all." "It's not, sugar, is it?" agreed Mike. "So what are you gonna do about it?" Carla's expression was enigmatic. "As punishment, do you mean?" "Yeah babe, to punish him for his dirty mouth." Simon sat there feeling mortified. What he feared above all else was she'd decide to retract his dinner. God, he was hungry, so very hungry, and the steaks must be nearly ready; he didn't think he could bear it if Carla now said he wasn't getting any. The punishment Carla decided upon therefore came as something of a relief. "Well darling, I don't want to spoil the three of us having dinner, but maybe gag him for a few minutes? ... you know, just while I finish up here. Least then he won't be able to repeat it." "You got it, babe," said Mike and he went off to the lounge, came back with the thick leather gag. "Sorry dude, Empress's orders," he said, brandishing the device at Simon. "S'okay, Mr Mike," said Simon. "Oh, and dude, while we're still talking ... something else I'm sorry about. That business with the lighter earlier. Maybe I got a bit carried away." "Sure, Mr Mike." "So is that okay too?" "Um, yes, Mr Mike." It wasn't 'okay' with Simon, far from it, but he had to admit Mr Mike had been extremely careful and dextrous for the most part. The burns, although they hurt a great deal, both then and now, were of the sort which would heal up in a few weeks. It could have been a lot worse, he knew this. Apart from that last bit with the nipples. That had been indescribably grim and he didn't think they would EVER heal! Maybe that's what Mr Mike meant with getting 'carried away' but Simon didn't want to ask. "Good boy," grinned Mike. "I'll stop feeling bad about it then." The gag went on. About ten minutes and dinner was ready. "Food's up, boys!" announced Carla. "Simon, can you lay the table please?" Simon got up and did so -- three knives, three forks, salt, pepper, French mustard for the steak, dressing for the salad. The task had him standing for a moment or two next to Carla as she dished out the food; two plates with steak and salad, one with just salad. It looked and smelt delicious! "Is this enough for you, Simon?" asked Carla, picking out one of the very substantial steak and salads, showing it to him. Simon nodded like a crazy man. She was holding the plate of food right up under his nose and he could feel himself salivating into the gag. God, he couldn't wait to get the damn thing off and tuck in! He almost sprinted back to finish what he was doing. The salad dressing was the last thing -- he got it from the fridge, plopped it down in the centre of the table, and sat in his place opposite Mike (who'd been absently flicking through a newspaper for the last few minutes). Wicked Wife Carla came across with the food, the two steak and salads first. She placed one before Mike and the other before Simon ... another flash of her fabulous tits! ... then went and got her own salad-only affair and sat down at the table between the two men. But then seemed to remember something. "What am I thinking?" she admonished herself. Simon knew what Carla had forgotten. She'd forgotten he still had the gag on and therefore couldn't make a start on his dinner! But no, not quite that as it turned out. "Simon's beer" she smiled. "Do you wanna go get it yourself, pooch?" So he got up, fetched a beer from the fridge, sat down again. "Glass, Simon," said Carla, looking displeased. "We have standards here, you know." He went and got himself a glass. "Here, let me pour it for you," said Carla. She poured Simon's beer into his glass, sitting on his lap to do it, one arm draped round his shoulder. She blew softly into his ear and wriggled her ass into his groin as she poured, and she poured very very slowly ... so slowly that the whole thing took what seemed an eternity. Oh god. All this was more than enough to stir Simon's dick into life again. Carla felt it moving around down there and she chuckled. She finally finished up and the famished and parched Simon now had a steak dinner and a glass of ice-cold, frothing beer in front of him. Plus an erection. But it was the food and drink which was uppermost on his mind. At last! He'd never looked forward to a meal so much in his life. Simon wanted to say thank you to Carla but with the gag could only manage an "Ugg". Carla looked at Mike. "Do YOU want another beer, darling?" Mike nodded. "Yeah babe, thanks. Nearly finished this one." She got Simon to do the honours. She didn't bother saying anything, merely turned to him and pointed at the fridge, and off he went to fetch Mike's beer. "Thanks, dude." Simon hovered by the table, unsure whether to pour out Mike's beer. "I'll do it myself, don't worry," said Mike, sensing the problem. "Still got that hard-on, dude, I see." Very true. Simon's cock was standing to attention. God, Carla's tee-shirt really showed off her tits! Carla giggled. "Mmm, I think you ought to cover it up, Simon, don't you? Gonna put us off our dinner, seeing that." "Ugg." "Sorry, didn't catch that," she grinned. "Look, just put your bowler hat over it." Simon took the hat off and held it over his exposed groin area. "Now pull your hand away, pooch. Let's see if it stays in place." It did. His cock was easily rigid enough. "Now that's what I call an interesting hat peg!" guffawed Mike. Oh fuck a duck! ... could this loser look any more ridiculous! Poor little sod. "Is it because of my tits, Simon?" grinned Carla, toying with him. "Is that what's making you excited? Do you like the way they look in this little tee-shirt I'm wearing? It's quite skimpy, I know. Have you been staring?" Some nodding and 'ugging' from Simon. This was delaying dinner and he was keen for it to stop. Carla giggled. "Poor hubby. Anyway, come on, we're meant to be having dinner." Music to Simon's ears. "I think I'll have a beer too, Simon," said Carla, just as he was about to sit back down. "Go and get me one." He hesitated, glanced at the bowler hat hanging on his cock. "Exactly," giggled Carla. "Keep it in place. If it falls off and we get another eyeful of that dick of yours, this is only gonna be dinner for two. You understand?" Simon nodded eagerly, trotted off to the fridge and back. He moved very carefully so as not to risk the bowler slipping off his dick. Made sure he stayed hard and erect by thinking about his wife's sexy tits, how she was deliberately flaunting them in that revealing top. It worked. The hat was still on its peg when he returned to the table. "Glass?" "Ugg Ugg," he apologised to Carla. "Just get it," she snapped. The shamefaced Simon did so. He could tell she was a little annoyed. Back at the table, and sitting in his place again, he tried to redeem himself by doing a top class job of pouring out her beer. Mike grinned at Carla. "Liking the waiter service in this joint, babe. Should we be tipping him?" Carla giggled. "Dunno. Maybe at the end of the meal." "Anyway, enough of this messing around, boys," she announced. "Looks like we're finally sorted ... so come on, let's all tuck in!" Mike and Carla did exactly that. They tucked in with gusto. Mike, especially -- he wolfed down his food in no time, periodically smacking his lips and grunting his appreciation. "Oh babe, this is so good. This is just fucking DELICIOUS, Carla honey." Carla, eating her salad with obvious enjoyment, albeit rather more sedately, smiled prettily. "Thanks, sweetheart." Very soon, they'd both finished. "Fabulous meal, babe, really fabulous," said Mike, leaning back and patting his belly. "I'm stufferoonied!" "That's what a woman likes to hear when she's cooked for her man," grinned Carla. She turned to her husband, who'd been ignored completely whilst they ate. "Did you enjoy yours, Simon?" "Ugg Ugg." For poor Simon the last few minutes had taken frustration to new levels. He'd cut his steak into bite-sized pieces, but with the gag still on he'd been reduced to just pathetically moving the food around on his plate. And looking at it. The only thing he'd got to swallow was his own drool. The beer foamed, cool and untouched in his glass. Eyes bulging, knocking his knuckles on the table, he'd at first tried to attract Carla's attention - maybe she'd only forgotten about the gag - but he soon gave up as it dawned on him that this was all a game. A cruel game. She'd never intended for him to eat any steak or drink any beer. The whole thing was just to tease and torment him. In addition to acute hunger and thirst, plus all round physical and mental wretchedness, Simon felt weak and foolish. He hated Carla. Hated himself too for allowing her and her cunt of a boyfriend to torture him the way they were. She'd turned him into such an utter wimp. Worse, he knew it was irreversible. Carla controlled him completely and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Carla, gazing at him, knew this too. A delicious thrill ran through her body -- the thrill of knowing she could be ever more wanton and cruel to her poor husband, could do absolutely anything she pleased and he would just take it. "I said did you enjoy YOURS, pooch," she giggled. "Has the cat got your tongue or something?" "Ugg." Simon was crying. In the pit of despair now. Just wondering what they were going to do to him next. All he could do was hope and pray it wouldn't be too horrible. Carla put on a stern expression. "Look, pooch, I'm not happy. Reason I'm not happy is I see you haven't eaten your dinner. The dinner I slaved away making for you." Mike joined in. "Yeah, babe, ungrateful little turd." Simon pointed at the gag. As if she didn't know. "Oh you're blaming that, are you?" said Carla. "Well, you could have at least tried," she snapped. "Here, let's try now, shall we?" Grinning wickedly, Carla got a piece of Simon's steak on her fork, reached across and put it to his hungry mouth. "Here, poochie," she laughed, taunting poor Simon with the meat, wiping it slowly back and forth across his swollen lips. "I know! How about some French mustard?" Carla dipped the meat in mustard and wafted the fork around his nostrils. "Mmm, doesn't it smell delicious, Simon?" she giggled, smearing mustard on the tip of his nose, then dabbing some on his chin. "Aw, look at my hungry husband. He can see the yummy steak, he can smell it, he can even feel it on his lips, but he can't eat it. I'm so mean, aren't I, doing this to my starving pooch. Mmm, I know. The Empress is cruel and very wicked." Carla carried on tormenting and tantalising the unfortunate Simon, rubbing food in his face, with Mike sitting there watching and creasing up. "Hey your beer, turdface," he grinned, reaching for Simon's drink. "We shouldn't waste it, should we?" Mike got up and stood beside Simon. Then he poured the beer over poor Simon's lap. "Has he still got a hard-on?" asked Carla, giggling. Mike looked down. "Nah, hat's on the floor now, sugar." Carla stood up and moved Simon's chair round so he was facing her. She stripped off her top and jiggled her tits in his face until his erection was back. "That's better," she pouted. "I wonder which you'd rather do, Simon ... eat the juicy steak or fondle these juicy tits?" Carla giggled. "Not that it matters much, since you won't be doing either." "Now, pick your hat up, pooch," she instructed. Simon bent down and retrieved his bowler hat. "Put it upside down on the table." He did so. Carla scraped food -- all that remained on his plate -- into the hat and added half a bottle of dressing. Then she grinned at Mike. "D'you wanna maybe piss in it, darling?" "Sure, baby," grinned Mike, and he pulled his dick out and filled the hat. "Quite a cocktail in there now, babe," he chuckled, when he'd finished. Carla nodded and turned to Simon, an evil expression on her achingly lovely face. "So put your hat on, pooch." Simon reached for the bowler. "On your head, I mean, not back on your dick. You look better when you're wearing a hat, I've decided, what with being bald now and all." Couple of seconds later and Simon was a man wearing a bowler hat and covered in bits of steak, sundry pieces of salad, a fair amount of oily dressing, and an awful lot of Mike's piss. He sought to stand up but Mike pushed him back onto the chair. "Should we cuff him to it, gorgeous?" "Yeah, Mike darling, let's. Keep him out of trouble while we enjoy the rest of the evening." Looking at Carla, tight blue jeans, topless, Mike reckoned he would indeed be enjoying the rest of the evening! He got the kit from the lounge and secured Simon, hands and feet, to the chair. Then he dragged the chair away from the table, away from everything, and placed it in the centre of the kitchen. Carla giggled. "That's perfect, honey. Now come on, I'm feeling horny, let's go fool around next door on the sofa!" She pouted and juggled her tits. Mike looked down at Simon. "Well Simon, it would appear your wife wants some sexy action. No rest for the wicked, eh?" "See you later, dude," he grinned. "You really are a total fucking mess, by the way." ** ** ** ** Carla and Mike had sex on the sofa, then cuddled up and watched a movie. Simon was forgotten apart from when his wife popped to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and couldn't resist spending a few minutes tormenting him whilst she was there. Carla, in only her knickers and looking unbearably sexy, stood in front of her husband and struck some provocative poses. She giggled as she saw his dick twitch and harden. Then she leant in and squeezed his nostrils together with her fingers ... meaning Simon, still gagged, couldn't breathe. "Oh dear, hubby's face is going blue," she laughed, as poor Simon desperately shook his head around, trying in vain to free his nose from her grip. Carla kept his air supply cut off until she could see he was on the point of passing out; then she let go, gave him a few seconds to recover, and started again. She repeated the torture half a dozen times, by which point Simon was starting to wish he were dead. It appeared this wish might be granted as Carla fished out something from a drawer and Simon saw it was a clothes peg. "Now then, poochie, where do we think this should go?" she asked, showing him the peg, prodding around his nose with it. "Mmm, yes, I wonder. Just exactly where should I put this?" "Any ideas, pooch?" Carla giggled, toying with the clearly terrified Simon, enjoying herself immensely. "Before I go back to my lover and leave you here to ..." She left the sentence unfinished, instead put the peg on her own nose and mimed being suffocated to death, acted it out for him, wallowing in the abject horror on her husband's face. She was having SUCH a ball! She couldn't wait to tell Mike about this -- he'd pee himself! "Awful way to die, Simon, isn't it? God, just imagine," she whispered, the peg back in her hand, moving slowly and ever closer to his face. She pegged his nose and stood back to watch him writhe. Then she picked up the beers and sashayed out of the kitchen, leaving her poor husband to die in agony. Half a minute later, as Simon was losing consciousness, she walked back in, grinning, and removed the peg. "Aw poor pooch," she giggled. "You didn't think the Empress was gonna actually kill you, did you? I'm not THAT cruel, you know!" Simon was slumped in the chair, body sagging, head down and lolling from side to side. "Besides, you'd be no fun dead, would you? Weekend's not over yet and we've still got plans. Mike doesn't have to leave till tomorrow evening." "Ugg." "What's that, my little poochie pie?" she taunted. "You're looking forward to it?" "Ugg Ugg." "Well great, because that makes three of us. Hey, we're gonna truss you up naked in the bathtub tonight when we go to bed. Maybe put some icy cold water in there too. That'll be nice, poochie, won't it?" "Ugg." Simon's extremely distressed audio visuals were only making Carla more amused as she continued to terrorise him. "Then tomorrow, oh boy! We're gonna ... well let's just say you'll be wishing it was still today. About the nicest thing that's gonna happen to you tomorrow, pooch, is when we take your gag off so you can suck Mike's dick again. Mmm. This time I might make you lick his asshole too. And you'll be praying for that moment, poochie, believe me." "Ugg Ugg Ugg." "Exactly!" Carla grinned. And with that, she fixed the clothes peg on Simon's dick and went to rejoin her lover. Wicked Wire "Please Master," she whispers. "Not yet Babe," he moans in her ear as he continues to play with her clit. *Oh my god!* she thinks to herself, *how am I going to keep myself from cumming all over his hand?* He wants her to cum without permission, he will work her over until she does just that, and he knows just how to do it, he reaches up and pulls her hair exposing her neck to him and he bites down into the soft flesh of her neck causing her to scream. He then growls loudly into her ear at the same time just the thing to make her cum and cum hard which she of course does just as he knew she would. *Mmmm ... yeah that's it* he says to himself then switches to the outraged Master he could be, pulling her by the hair so that she is looking into his stormy hazel blue eyes. "Did you just come?" he asks her in a low voice. She doesn't respond just whimpers. He repeats the question "Did you just cum without my permission? Answer me!" he growls at her, "Did you come without my blessing?" he asks. "Answer me you naughty little slut!" "Yes Master," she whimpers in a small voice. At her nod confirming that yes she had come, she watches as his face changes from that of loving Master to a Master very disappointed in his slave, looking into his eyes she wants to hide in shame. "Get out of my sight," he whispers, refusing to look at her. "No Master, please let me make it up to you," she says in a low voice. "I said get the fuck out of my sight now you disobedient slut, move now," he whispers in a low deadly voice, to get his point across he takes the hand that is covered in her juices and wipes it on her face and in her hair. "Move now bitch," he says and gives her a hard shove away from him. "But Master please," she starts to plead but stops when he looks at her as if she were something vile on the bottom of his shoe. Remembering her place, she whispers, "Yes Master..." and takes two steps back lowers her head and bends her knees slightly before scurrying away. "Perfect," he says aloud with a smile on his face, "I have my little Angel Beauty just where I want her." He then licks her earthy scented juice off of his hand, yes just where I want her, now for the fun stuff he says to himself. He walks into their bedroom and finds her on the bed knees close to her chest head down tears flowing, he almost breaks when he sees the amount of worry her body seems to be exuding. No he thinks it is time it is time to grow; I will not lose my goddess because I don't excite and challenge her, yes time to change things. "Slave!" he growls letting her know he is there. "Master!" she exclaims as she scurries off of the bed and onto her knees legs apart head bowed. "Go get the paddle you ungrateful bitch," he growls disappointment and anger dripping from him as he gives her commands. "Yes sir," she whispers, moving to get up on her feet. "Down bitch," he yells, "No walking for you right now back to basics for you, crawl and get it. Make sure you bring the wicked wire as well." Satisfied as he watches the frightened expression play across her face. She hates the wicked wire. She has ever since she gifted him with the innocent looking little piece of resin, innocent until he used it on her body once while she was tied down ... which was a good thing because she just about came off of the table after the fourth strike. He dislikes the implement of torture as well, he nearly died after the first time he used it on her. The welts it left on her burnt caramel skin saddened him, she was not just his slave she was also his center ... his love ... his reason to get up in the everyday. Yes, he hated that tool and had vowed never to inflict that kind of suffering upon her again, even after she had begged him to use her anyway he saw fit. No never again not after the itchy welts that took hours to stop itching, not to mention how the welts had turned a angry purple on her skin. When she returns with the items, he snaps out of his reverie and gets back to the task at hand. "About fucking time bitch! What did you do in there carve the damn paddle yourself?" She opens her mouth to speak but thinks better of it having never seen him quite like this before. "Get your ass to the playroom and be quick about it." After taking a few minutes to collect himself, he walks down the hall to the playroom and finds her kneeling just to the right of the door. "Up slave! On your feet." She gets up and waits for his next order. "Toys," he says. She walks over to a cloth covered rolling cart and shows him the paddle and wicked wire. Before long, he has her bent over the spanking bench and begins to paddle her beautiful ass over and over again making her count out each swat. "One, Master thank you ... two, Master thank you ..." On and on this continues, all the while he spews on about how she is a slut who only cares about her needs, once done with the spanking a hundred and fifty in all, he tells her to get off of the bench, when she tries to stand up her knees buckle and she lands in a heap at his feet. "Hmm," he says, "Yes a fitting place for you." "While you're down there lick my feet." he growls. "What Master ...?" she starts not believing he said what she thought she heard. "You heard me right, you dirty cum leaking bitch, lick my fucking feet," he then pulls her head up and says open your month now, when she just stares at him he then pulls her hair causing her to open her mouth. "Yeah just like that, now start licking slut." Scared of him now she sticks her tongue out and just barely touches his big toe. "Yeah," he whispers, "like that ... now get into it baby ... a little harder my bitch ... Enough! Spread your legs more! Walking around her body, he lifts his right foot, starts to move it along her clit and the opening to her treasure center watching her jump a little he knows this is something that help him with what he has planned, and sticks his big toe in her moist folds. "Yes," he says as he starts to fuck her with his foot. After a moment, he says to her "You want to act like a bitch in heat? Here is your chance get up and sit your pussy right over my foot and fuck yourself on it." So with tears running down her face, she bucks up and down on his foot, all the while listening to him ask her who owns her worthless and treacherous ass. "You do Master," she whimpers. "Yes I do own your black ass and don't you ever fucking forget it again. Now get that sloppy cunt off my foot." She moves off his foot and is a little embarrassed when she feels all the wetness she has left on his foot. "Lick it off," he says when he sees the wetness. She licks and sucks his foot the best she can making sure that there is none of her essence left on it. "You nasty bitch, you got off on fucking my foot didn't you?" She says nothing. He really did not expect her to respond. "On the table now," he orders her, "time for you to really pay for coming with when I told you not to." She climbs on the exam table that he had designed just for him and straps her in place. He then grabs a cord of rope and binds her breast and before too long, her breasts are enlarged and plump. He begins to smack them with the paddle sometimes pinching and pulling them away from her body, all the while telling her what a naughty whore she was. Soon he grabs the wicked wire and flicks it over each of her nipples in a crisscross pattern, causing her to scream even more. "Take it you greedy slut!" he flicks it over her clit and she screams bloody murder. Feeling a little guilt he whispers, "Relax baby, I have you." and then runs his wet tongue over her clit making her moan. After a while, he removes the straps and rope from her breast and body, lowers the exam table so that it her pussy is level with his cock, and pushes himself into her warm folds. "Oh God!" she whimpers, "Master please it hurts ... it hurts ..." "Yes, I know it does that is the point my black slut, take this cock, Mmm yeah who owns this pussy bitch?" he growls. "You do Master." "Any restrictions?" "No Master." "What can I do to it bitch?" "Any thing you want." "Yes that is right and you better never forget it or I will beat your ass and dump you outside with my spunk running down your legs and out of your ass," before long he is ready to come and pulls out of her and shoots his load all over his feet. "Get down there and lick the cum off my feet ... NOW!" She climbs down and licks the cooling spunk off his feet. "Yes ... just like the dirty whore you are, look at you, you cum licking slut get that ass back up on the table." Once she is up again, he takes the wicked wire and flicks it over her nipples again, the outer folds of her lips and along her inner thighs, then he grabs the paddle and swats her inner thighs. She screams and screams until finally she passes out from the pain. Later she awakens just as her Master eases them both into a warm tub of water. She tenses expecting more punishment. "Relax my Angel Beauty, I have you and I love you. It is over my love. Thank you for the sweet tears and the lovely screams, I am so proud of you and I am even prouder to be your Master," as he says this he hands her the wicked wire, "it is yours babe, use it on me if you wish or throw it away, I shall never touch your flesh with this item again." Wicked Witch of the Office This story is the second I've attempted and I've tried a bit of a different genre this time. It's my goal to create at least one story in each of the genre's that I'm interested in, at least until I can get some positive feedback from each. All character's are imaginary, and over the age of 18... No animals, aliens, robots, ghosts, large or small machinery to distract from the story line, etc., etc. I accept full responsibility for all grammatical and spelling errors, omissions and general 'goof-ups!' Sigh! My goals in writing are two-fold; to entertain, and to learn how to improve my efforts. In that light, all 'constructive' criticism is welcomed. And of course, if you enjoy the story, I'd certainly like to hear about that as well. * Eight months of hell, that's what it's been! I don't know now why I ever accepted that job offer through the university when I graduated, other than the fact that I was a referral from the Dean's Office, an extremely rare gesture from Brender University. To give you a little background, and why I ended up in this mess, let me explain. My name is Scott Belger, and I'm currently employed by the marketing branch of Skyler Enterprises, one of the largest high-tech distributors in the country. Largely unknown because of the nature of its merchandise, it's well-known among insiders as being extremely sound financially, and very generous to well-performing employees. Their employment practices are very discrete, and as a result of my peculiar skill, I'd apparently gained their attention, and with a reference from the University staff, I was hired, sight unseen. You see, I'd been orphaned at a very early age, and was passed from foster home to foster home until I was about to graduate from high school. For some reason, I found school pretty much a breeze, but managed to really excel in mathematics. I completed all the high school math requirements by the second half of my sophomore year, and was allowed to complete whatever college math courses I chose for the rest of my high school years. I chose them all, of course, excelling in them as well. Not bragging, because I realized I had a gift, and had simply decided to run it through to its natural end. Of course that left me with a bit of a math vacuum in college when I was finally admitted under a scholarship, but Brender University had sought me out under the advice of Warren Skyler, the founder, CEO and President of Skyler Industries. How he had come across my name or scholastic record I had no clue, but I was grateful for the opportunity to expand my education, and fortunately the university had filled up that math vacuum with highly advanced courses in statistical analysis. Now, my dilemma... The manager of our department, Carolyn Montague, is the proverbial "Witch (Bitch) From Hell!" Her reputation as a 'man-hater' is legendary, and for some reason, she took an instant dislike to me from the first day I was assigned to her department eight months ago. To complicate matters even more, she is 'knock-out gorgeous' and knew it. She dressed for effect each day at the office, wearing the least amount of clothing necessary not to be considered obscene, but exposing as many of her physical attributes as she could to ensure that all attention remained focused on her. At about 5'8", she has classically beautiful facial features; strikingly dark brown eyes, full red lips and long black hair that she occasionally pulls up into a bun. To complement this, she has a figure that could bring a deceased monk back to life. Her daily displays of these 'attributes' are continually an object of discussion around the office, but never when she is present of course. As the apparent object of her disdain, it seemed that I was both blessed and cursed in my day to day interactions with her. Dressed each day in either a very close-fitting business suit or dress, she virtually always wore a blouse that contained a deeply plunging neckline, revealing generous stretches of her creamy white tit flesh. And, I could almost predict when I would be summoned to her office, because she almost never sent for me unless she was wearing a skirt, which would extend only to mid-thigh. This of course, would expose a vast expanse of shapely leg, oftentimes riding up her thighs until I could just catch a glimpse of her panties. Between my total lack of a social life, and the prick-teasing displays of my man-hating manager, I was beginning to feel the strain of some serious sexual frustration. The reason for my lack of a social life was the 'extra-curricular' workload that my manager tasked me with each week. 'On the side,' as she called it, I was required to produce extraordinary 'statistical trending' reports for her to present to the corporate officers each week. Since my reports tended to be quite accurate, and the feedback from the officers so positive, she quickly took full credit for the work, and my 'free time' became my second, unpaid job. As if this weren't enough, she made it a point of degrading me in front of the office staff at every opportunity it seemed. I had been warned by the friendlier elements in the office that my predecessor had been discharged under accusations of sexual harassment by Ms. Montague, but from their perspective, it was she that had been doing the harassing. No matter though, Human Resources had taken her word over his. With that warning in mind, I could only surmise why she had targeted me for her sexual taunting. The straw that nearly broke the proverbial camel's back however came nearly eight months after my employment in this office. Once again, Ms. Montague had called me into her office Monday morning for instructions relating to my after hours research and reporting efforts. That day she seemed to be in a particularly 'bitchy' mood, and as she passed through the outer office, she merely nodded in my direction and barked out, "Boy! Into my office... NOW!" I was not in a particularly good mood either, but swallowing my pride, I dropped the work that I'd been doing, and followed her through her office door. The rest of the office staff tried not to show too much interest in my fate, but I could feel their eyes boring into my back as I closed the office door behind me. As I entered the office, Ms. Montague was already standing behind her desk, hands on hips, tight-lipped, glaring at me. Even though she was obviously out of sorts, she still looked beautiful! As expected on my usual day in her office, she was dressed in a snug fitting business outfit; blouse unbuttoned nearly to the waist, and a skirt that just barely came to mid-thigh. There was no doubt that she was bra-less today as well. She motioned me to take the chair next to her desk, and sat down. Picking up a small stack of papers, she swiveled herself around to face me, and demanded to know 'what the hell' I'd been thinking when I produced the reports from last week. Taking the papers from her, I scanned them quickly, but I knew what she was upset about. Using the best information that I could accumulate, I'd written a report that was highly critical of certain routing schemes that had been implemented by the Corporate Dispatching Offices. My analysis showed that what they'd done would cost the corporation hundreds of thousands of dollars over the next few months. I knew the report would not be taken well, but I could only paint the statistical scene as I saw it. Apparently my boss had taken the brunt of the bad news, and had decided to take it out on me. Snapping the papers out of my hands, and shaking them in my face, she gave me an ultimatum; re-do the report to reflect a more favorable view of that department's planning, or look for another job. While she was pushing the papers in my face, she dropped some of them. While bending over to retrieve them, two things happened. Actually three things... She bent over in front of me, spreading her legs to reach between them to pick up the papers which had fallen to the floor. At that moment, I was presented with a miraculous view of her breasts, all the way to her waist. And beneath that, an equally marvelous view of her crotch, complete with a finely detailed 'camel-toe.' So given that fateful gift, I did what any man would have done in my place; I looked... Not only did I look, I was absolutely mesmerized by the scene. In acknowledgment of this event, my cock suddenly woke up, and pushed out against my trousers, presenting what I must imagine was quite a sight to Ms. Montague. Noting my attention to her attributes, Ms. Montague suddenly shrieked out at me, "You fucking pervert! I hope you enjoy what you're staring at, because it'll be a cold day in hell before you ever get any of this! Now, get the fuck out of my office and get me that report revision!" As I got up and left her office, I'd already made up my mind that I was resigning by week end. I was not going to compromise my professional work to make her look good. It seemed however, that this Monday was going to prove even more eventful for me. Later that afternoon, I received a message from Roxanne, Ms. Montague's personal secretary, that the CEO himself wanted to meet with me that evening; something about discussing 'our' future. What a laugh! Warren Skyler!? Meet with me? Roxanne validated the message for me, as she'd seen them before, so I decided, "What the hell!" I can hand him my resignation as well as Ms. Montague, and I might have even more satisfaction at that... The rest of the day went by quickly, and as I left the building I watched as the limo drove up to where I was told to wait for it. The driver exited the car, and opened the rear door for me to enter. Once on the road, I asked her where we were heading, and she replied, "Mr. Skyler has a corporate dwelling nearby that he uses whenever he is in the area, and we will be arriving in a few minutes." Soon we pulled up to a very nice house, and the driver jumped out and opened the door for me to leave. She simply instructed me to go to the door and knock. Then returning to the car, she got in and drove off. I knocked, and in a minute or two the door was opened by a rather imposing figure of a man. A bit over 6 ft tall, wide and sturdy, sporting a rather short haircut, graying at the temples, Warren Skyler could have easily posed for the 'poster picture' of confidence and strength. I was almost regretting my intention of resigning that night; almost. Grasping my extended hand, Skyler pulled me into the foyer, and closing the door, bade me have a seat in the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. After briefly introducing himself and thanking me for coming, he directed me to the entertainment bar to fix myself something to drink. He then excused himself to the adjoining room to finish some correspondence that he was in the middle of completing. In a minute or two he returned and went to the bar. After fixing himself what appeared to be nearly a full water glass full of Scotch, he turned to me and said, "I read the report that was presented to the corporate officers last week, Scott. Carolyn claimed credit for it until she discovered that it was not being received very well." His face was impassive, and hard to read as he sat down in the sofa adjacent to me. He was referring of course, to Ms. Montague. I suddenly got a feeling that my resignation plan was good move, and that this was not going to be a good evening. "I hired you, Scott, and placed you into the department that you currently work. You may not have known that, but I had worked closely with the University to see that I had first choice of your services. Now, I want to know exactly what is going on in that department, and who is producing these weekly trending reports. And Scott, please..., no bullshit!" As I looked at him, I could see that he was now smiling, so I figured that he probably already knew who was producing those weekly statistical reports. Having figured that out, I decided to present him with the resignation that I'd already prepared and had in my pocket before I lost my nerve. He simply took the folded sheet of paper from me, placed it on the coffee table in front of us, and leaned back into the sofa to watch me, expectantly. Admitting my role in the weekly reports, I explained to him that I'd decided to resign this evening as a result, and further, I went on to describe the overall humiliation and sexual taunting I'd had to endure from the manager of that department over the past few months. I probably went on longer than he'd have liked, but I had a lot of pent-up anger and frustration to vent, and unfortunately he was the only target in sight. He patiently waited until I'd run down, while nodding his head from time to time, and then he excused himself once more to check on some things in the other room. In the meantime, he again directed me to the bar to fix myself something more to drink. A few minutes later, as if the day couldn't get any worse, I suddenly heard the sound of a key being inserted into the front door, and when it opened, who should I see but Carolyn Montague! As soon as she closed and locked the door behind her, she turned and spotted me sitting in the overstuffed chair, drink in hand. Her response was predictable. Visibly enraged, she immediately began screaming at me, "What the fuck are you doing in my house? You mother-fucking stalker! You're done! You're history! I'm calling the police!" She was reaching for her cell-phone when Warren came back into the room, drink in hand. She stared at him in shock, and a moment later he quietly said, "Ah, Carolyn. I see you and Mr. Belger do know each other. Good." He continued to the sofa by the fireplace and sat down, looking across the room at her. Looking around the living room, Carolyn tried to piece together what was taking place. She'd already gotten beaten up by the corporate officers for that report of mine that she'd presented to them that last Friday, and now she was faced with the CEO and President of the firm in her living room, apparently entertaining the primary cause of her predicament, me. Clearing his throat, Warren apologized to Carolyn for not calling ahead, but said that he had been trying to get a grip on a serious company problem all weekend, and it wasn't until tonight that some things were beginning to make some sense. The reason that he was here, he said, was because of that report that she'd presented to the corporate officers that last Friday. Quickly coming to her own defense, Carolyn immediately went into a rant against me, pointing out that the offending report had been compiled and completed by me. She went on to cite numerous imaginary offenses committed by me due to gross incompetence over the past several months, and described, in her opinion, my sinister determination to undermine her and her department. As a parting shot, she insisted that I spent most of my time trying to steal looks down her blouse or up her skirt. To say I was pissed at all this crap would be an extreme understatement, and made me more determined than ever to make this night my last with this company. Still, I stared at her, standing by the door, a resplendent witch, but a witch nonetheless. Then, just as quickly I glanced back at Warren, still sitting calmly on the sofa, stroking his chin with his left hand, balancing his drink in his right. A few moments after Carolyn's tirade had died down, he asked, "Is that the same outfit that you wore to work today, Carolyn?" Glancing down at herself, she stammered, "Y-Yes... So?" I noted that she was still wearing the business outfit that she'd flaunted in front of me earlier today; the blouse, unbuttoned to the waist, bra-less, and the very snug fitting skirt that barely came to mid-thigh. A sudden impulsive thought ran through my mind at that moment, a quick mental image of her, naked, kneeling between my knees, my cock embedded firmly in her mouth. My cock, as if with a mind of its own, jerked slowly to attention, and I had to drop my hands into my lap to hide my little moment of weakness. I suspected that it was simply the reactions of a condemned man. Nodding his head slowly, Warren went on to say, "A pity, Carolyn. If only you'd had the courage of your convictions, you might have been proclaimed a hero in due time. You see, that report of Scott's turned out to be completely correct! I've just spent the entire weekend validating his information, and quite frankly, I'm a bit weary right now." Still standing near the doorway, Carolyn's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide with confusion as it slowly occurred to her that she'd just kicked a hole in her own professional boat. She glanced quickly back and forth between me and Warren, undoubtedly trying to find a way to respond to his comment. Controlling my impulse to walk out the door and escape this surrealistic scene, I decided to wait a bit to see how this strange situation played out. It seemed as though I wasn't in as much danger as I'd thought. Glancing back at me, Warren continued, "You have been a long project in the making, Scott. Ever since old professor Klein informed me of your peculiar gift, I've made it a mission to get you into a position in this company to provide the one thing that we lack; the means of predicting the results of certain business decisions, without pride or prejudice getting in the way." Turning once again to face Carolyn, he said, "And you, Ms. Montague, have very nearly derailed the entire plan, single-handedly. Tell me, Carolyn, just why do you think I placed him in your department?" Swallowing a couple of times, she responded, "I-I didn't know it was you that had assigned him to me, Warren. He just showed up one day from HR, and I thought..." Her voice slowly trailed out into silence... "Now I have a much more serious problem Carolyn! It seems that Mr. Belger has just presented me with his resignation," Warren said, waving his hand at the folded paper sitting on the coffee-table. After that comment, a long silence came over the room. To say that Carolyn was stupid would be a serious mistake. Warren Skyler was not known for being a either a fool or a pushover. Moreover, the fact that she was a relatively high level manager in his corporation certainly meant that she served a pivotal role in the success of the business. I was not in any position to make any judgments at this stage in my career, but I was still royally pissed at her, and still determined to escape from this crazy scene. Carolyn looked back and forth at us, before remarking, "Perhaps, uhm..., we could make some sort of deal with Mr. Belger, to sort of make it worth his while to stay on with us?" A sense of self-survival was beginning manifest itself in her right now, and I could see that she was beginning to visualize a life without the nice position and perks that she now enjoyed. Warren wearily looked back at me, and after a moment asked, "Scott, just what would it take for you to remain with us?" Both of them stared at me, waiting for my response. I had resolved to leave the company tonight, and the outburst from Carolyn this evening had done little to change that resolve. The more I thought of what had transpired over the past 8 months, the angrier I became! Things would have to change impossibly before I'd ever feel comfortable in that department again. Feeling that my feet were firmly placed on the edge of a cliff, I slowly stepped over the edge! Looking back at them I said, "No problem...!" I noted a sigh of relief from Carolyn, but Warren began to smile wryly, as if he knew what was about to happen. Gathering up what little courage of mine that remained, I blurted out, "If Ms. Montague will strip naked, kneel between my legs, and give me the best blow-job of my life, I'll stay with your company!" Wicked Witch of the Office As expected, I saw a look of horror and shock on the face of Carolyn, but Warren still had that wry smile on his face. He glanced over at Carolyn, obviously expecting some sort of response. She glared at me, and then shifting her gaze, looked over at Warren, expecting some assistance from him. Seeing none, she said, "Surely you can't force me to do that...!" "I force no one to do anything, Carolyn!" he said quietly. "The man has simply presented us with a simple business deal. I have invested a great deal of time, money and energy in the both of you, and I'd be sorely disappointed if it was all in vain." At that, he arose and turning to both of us, he said, "I have to go into the next room to complete some important on-line business. When I return, I expect to find either an extremely satisfied employee, along with the manager of my most important department; or, the house empty except for myself." "For you see, Carolyn, without the services of Scott from this point on, your usefulness to me will have ended," he finished. With that, he strode out of the room. For long moments, Carolyn and I just stared at each other. The challenge had been issued; the response was now up to her. She was still standing in front of the doorway, but I figured that I already knew what her response would be. I stood up and made my way towards the door, determined to leave this house and the company forever. By the time I'd nearly reached her, Carolyn had figured out what I was about to do, and events suddenly took a turn for the unexpected, at least for me. I watched in astonishment as Carolyn reached up, and as if in slow motion, took off her business jacket, slowly dropping it to the floor. She then reached down to the remaining two buttons on her blouse, and popped them open. Shrugging her shoulders, the blouse joined the jacket on the floor as well. As I'd noted earlier, she was bra-less! Her tits were magnificent, as I'd suspected since my first partial look at them that morning; full, smooth, white, with the aureoles tightly crinkled, and her nipples rigid in response to the cool air in the room. Wow! Seeing the full extent of her beautiful tits had stopped me dead in my tracks for the moment, so I just stood there, still mesmerized, watching the rest of the scene play out. My cock, however, was not as paralyzed as my mind, and was beginning to rise in anticipation to whatever this occasion might bring. I glanced up to look at her face (a major accomplishment under the circumstances), and I found her staring forcefully into my eyes, gauging my every reaction to her movements. Curiously, I didn't resent that, but I knew already that this woman was capable of pretty intense passions, however misguided, so I remained on guard. She continued on, still looking deeply into my eyes. Her hands slowly went to her waist, unsnapped the clasp, and she unzipped her skirt. Once done, she allowed it to drop to the floor with the other articles of clothing. I stood there, captivated, looking at the beautiful length of her legs, up to where the soft, white thong covered the last treasure of her body that remained concealed. Much to my embarrassment, I found myself swallowing, over and over again, as the sights I'd only imagined previously began to unfold before me. The effect wasn't lost on Carolyn either, as she continued to tease my senses with her slow, tantalizing strip. A simple glance at my crotch was surely enough to convince her of the effect she was having on me. My cock was pushing the front of my trousers out to the breaking point, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. About then, I forced myself to regain some of my composure. There WAS something I could do to stop the pressure in my cock, and my balls! There was the rest of my 'business deal.' As I saw her hook her thumbs into the sides of her thong, I stopped her. Looking at me quizzically, she dropped her hands to her sides, and waited to see what I had in mind. I reached out, and hooked my own fingers into the strings of her thong, and lowered them myself. As her pussy became exposed, it released a musky, sensual aroma that shot directly to my groin! A most effective aphrodisiac! There was a narrow strip of trimmed brunette pubic hair, forming an erotic arrow pointing directly to the heart of her sex! The crotch of her thong was extremely damp with her juices, so I knew that the effect of her 'performance' was working on her as well as on me. The lips of her pussy were swollen with excitement, and I wanted nothing more right now than to bury my face in it, lapping up those delicious smelling juices. Instead, Carolyn pulled me up by my shoulders, and marched me back to the chair from which I came. While I was still standing there, she reached out, unbuckled my belt, dropped my zipper, and pushed my trousers and shorts down to my ankles in one smooth movement. Smooth except for a brief moment of trying to get my shorts over my very erect cock. Pulling them off altogether, she pushed me into the chair, pulled my legs apart, and knelt there for a few moments, just looking at my intensely aroused cock! Slowly reaching out, she grasped my cock in her right hand, and cradled my balls in the other, gently massaging both until I was ready to explode! Sensing that I might be getting too close, she pinched the head of my cock firmly, delaying the inevitable. I began to sense that she wasn't a novice at this... In an effort to prolong this wonderful experience, I tried to think of something that would reduce the tension I was feeling in my balls right now. Slime, garbage, crime, wrinkled old tramps, anything!!! Then, it occurred to me. If this were the only opportunity to have my way with the 'super-bitch,' I'd better go on the offensive, and fast! While she was engaged in attending to my cock and balls, I reached down to take hold of her tits, beginning to massage them firmly, at which point she briskly swatted my hands away! I quietly reminded her that Warren expected to find an 'extremely satisfied employee' on his return. I reached out again to her tits, and this time she didn't resist. Taking her turgid nipples between thumb and forefingers, I slowly tweaked them back and forth. They...felt...wonderful! By this time she was breathing a bit heavily on the head of my cock, and it occurred to me that she might be hoping that I'd cum before she'd had an opportunity to 'seal the deal!' So, placing my hands on either side of her head, I quickly guided my cock into her beautiful mouth! Instinctively, she began a slow, sensual sucking on my cock, moving her head up and down on my shaft, expertly using her tongue to attack the sensitive sides and tip in a maddeningly exquisite massage. Meanwhile her hands cradled my balls, which she gently massaged as well. I wasn't going to last much longer, as this whole situation had electrified my entire nervous system! I felt my cock reach the back of her throat each time she dropped her head into my lap, and I knew I'd reached my limit. Finally, without giving her any warning, I began emptying my balls into her mouth, while holding her head firmly onto my cock. Spasm after spasm racked my groin as I shot streams of cum into her mouth. Strangely enough, she wasn't fighting my hold on her head; instead she was swallowing my load, gulp after gulp. I also noticed that she'd dropped one of her hands to her cunt, and was strumming it in a heated blur. Once I'd finished, I had to pull her head off my cock to make her stop sucking. The head of my dick was a bit tender after that intense workout, and I wanted to make sure that I still had something to take home with me after tonight. The pungent, musky odor of heated sex hung in the air however, and I soon felt my testosterone beginning to take control of my body once more. Carolyn had rolled back onto her heels, breathing heavily; her face and chest glowing red from her exertions. The view from my chair was priceless, and provocative. Her beautiful tits were moving up and down with each breath, and her thighs were still spread from the workout that she'd been giving her cunt towards the end. I could swear I could still see drops of her pussy juice shining in the small pubic strip sheltering her clitoris. As we both paused in the glow of after-sex, trying to catch our breaths, Carolyn finally looked up at me and gasped, "Well, Mr. Number-boy; how was that?" Not willing to admit to her that it was undoubtedly the best blow-job that I'd had in the past many years, I simply replied, "Eh... Not too bad." As if I'd jammed an electric cord up her ass, she immediately came to life once more! "NOT TOO BAD? You son-of-a......" But before she could finish her retort, I dropped to my knees in front of her, slipped my hands under her knees, and rolled her onto her back. With her legs spread out before me, I quickly buried my face into her pussy, savoring the warm, wet juices that had accumulated during our earlier encounter. She reached down to my head, and briefly tried to pull me away, but as I used my tongue to fuck away at her pussy and asshole, she began to reverse her direction, and began pulling me deeper into her body. I was in 'pussy heaven,' and with the 'Manager from Hell' no less! Since she had not had her own release from giving me head, I figured that it wouldn't take her long to come to her own climax from my frenzied 'tongue-fucking.' Sure enough, she began bucking her hips into my face, making it more and more difficult for me to breathe, using my hair for leverage in pulling my tongue even harder against her clit. Finally, she let out a rather sharp squeal, shuddered a few times, and collapsed into a damp, inert shape before me. I wasn't quite done yet, as my cock had come back to life again after my pussy feast, and I was again gazing directly into Carolyn's gorgeous cunt, now laid out before me. Catching my breath, and allowing Carolyn a brief rest, I thought back over the past 8 months and of the sarcastic remarks and general disrespect I'd endured until now. Then, grabbing her by the hips, I urged her to her hands and knees, facing away from me. She moaned briefly, but did nothing to stop me. The view from that perspective was nothing short of awesome! Carolyn's ass-cheeks were perfectly shaped, white and smooth. Her pussy peeked out from between them, still glistening and swollen from my oral attentions just moments ago. The effect that the sight had on my now-revived cock was immediate, and urgent! ======================= Meanwhile, his correspondence completed, Warren packed up his gear and prepared to leave the house. Thinking back to his own college days at Brender University, he recalled old professor Klein's assessment of his own 'gift,' as he called it. Chuckling, he remembered the professor telling him that he was a natural 'empath,' having the ability to read people with an ease that seemed almost supernatural. No, professor, he thought. People have just made it so easy for themselves to be read; so unguarded, so predictable. Experience had only given him the 'gift' of putting the right people in the right place within his company. Sighing, he called Susan and requested the car. Walking out into the living room, he had few doubts about what he'd find when he passed through. He was, however, a bit surprised to find the two kneeling on the floor, Scott pounding his cock into Carolyn with a passion that screamed defiance to their earlier hatred of each other. Carolyn had her head resting on her hands, and was moaning over and over, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..." as she backed into Scott's strokes. The sweet smell of sex was strong in the room, and Warren suspected that it was going to be a very, very long night for these two. Smiling to himself, he crossed the room silently and let himself out, unannounced and unnoticed into the night. He was secure in the knowledge that things were indeed going to be different around that office from this point on, and that his plans for its future were sure to get back on track. And as an afterthought, he was now quite sure it was time for a substantial raise for Roxanne...