16 comments/ 69519 views/ 22 favorites A Sex Toy's Revenge By: ErotickWriter Here is my most recent story for Literotica. It was one of those rare occasions in which every scene presented itself to me before I even started writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. E ********* Look, you don't need to tell me my marriage is abusive. I know it better than anyone! But here's the thing. I've stayed because I love the bastard. And yes, I know how cliché that sounds. Oh, and here's the other thing -- he caught me cheating a few months ago, and he never lets me forget it. I was stupid and impulsive, and now he has this thing to hold over my head forever, it seems. Yeah, we could get divorced, and some days I'd really like to, but he says if we do, he's going drag my name through the mud and take me for everything he can. And without him, I have nothing, really. See, he's a successful business man, and I haven't had to work outside the home since we got married three years ago. I guess you'd say I'm a trophy wife, except it sounds egotistical when I say it. Whatever the case, without him I'd be pretty much destitute. You can't live on looks, and I have no family to help me get back on my feet, no friends in high places. So, when he caught me cheating, he decided that I could become his toy as well as his wife, or I could hit the road. So, I became his toy. He's always had a leaning toward BDSM, but I always drew the line at some handcuffs. Now, he says he owns me, and he can do what he wants. I have a confession to make. Most of the time I really like it. There are times, though, when he goes too far. I've read about the Dominant/submissive lifestyle a little bit, and everything I've come across says there is supposed to be an agreement between the two, and the sub really has a good degree of power because she can call off the Dom if things get too intense. Most people seem to have a safe word to use. Well, we don't. When I bring up the subject, Kurt just asks me if I'm ready for that divorce. It's become a taunt. "Oh, you ready for that divorce, are you?" Thankfully, Kurt isn't physically vicious. I mean, he does whip me and spank me sometimes, but he never loses control and never really injures me. He won't stop when I want him to, but he never breaks the skin. Or bones. Again, I have to confess that a certain amount of pain really turns me on. So I put up with it when he goes on longer than I want. What he lacks in physical cruelty, though, he makes up for in emotional cruelty. He showed hints of it before I cheated, but they just seemed like slip-ups caused by pressure at work, and he always apologized. Now, though, he seems to take more pleasure in humiliating me than in having actual sex with me. Well, he does still like sex, too, but he really gets off when he can shame me. For the most part, I've tried to regard these last few months as a learning experience, as they say. Some of the things, I didn't really WANT to learn, but that's how it goes, right? I've learned to like it when he ties me in a painful strappado and throatfucks me until I'm gagging and drooling. Don't ask me why, but my pussy starts to get wet at the first bite of the ropes. I've learned not to hate it when he fucks me up the ass while I'm strung up there, helpless, and then throatfucks me 'til he shoots his cum in my face. I've learned to be OK with him coming home from work and expecting me to crawl up to him, naked, and lick his shoes, telling him his little whore is so happy to see him. I've learning to enjoy the way it makes his cock grow hard when he makes me kneel with my hands behind my back and he whips my breasts until they are red and tender, and then drags me up by my hair and fucks me hard against the wall. I've learned to love it when he ties me up and uses the Hitachi wand on my poor wet pussy, making me beg him to let me cum, but then stopping before I get off and leaving me there to whimper in anticipation. I love it even more when he uses it until I orgasm over and over, unable to get away, and the vibration becomes a burning agony, but I cum again anyway. All these humiliations and more I've come to live with. He locks up my clothes and takes the key with him, leaving me naked all day, expecting me to cook for him and clean for him, knowing I can go nowhere without clothes. Upon command, he expects me to masturbate for him, suck him off, or bend over and let him fuck me as his mood strikes. Like I said -- honestly, I rather like most of these things. There is something kind of exciting about being a sex toy. I mean, people love toys, right? Granted, I wouldn't want it to go on forever, but nothing ever does. And so, I lived that way without much complaint for months. Kurt still let me get dressed up now and then, and took me to dinner and everything. For the most part he treated me OK in public. But that started to change a few weeks ago. He said nothing completely over the top when we were in public, but he started treating me rudely, as I was insignificant, even in front of other people. Then, about two weeks ago, he did something I most definitely was not OK with. He got home from work at the usual time and we had dinner as always, but he seemed keyed up, fidgeting with his spaghetti and twirling it around with his fork more than eating it. As he sometimes does when he's feeling particularly cruel, he put my dinner in a bowl and put it on the floor by his chair, making me eat with my hands behind my back. Of course, it's impossible to eat spaghetti with no hands and not get it all over yourself. When I finished, I could feel sauce all over my face and in my hair. As if it weren't bad enough to be made to eat like a dog, he then derided me for making a mess. He made me bend over his lap, and he spanked me, hard. He made me spread my legs so every time he hit my ass, he also hit my tender vulva. When his arm was tired and my poor behind and pussy were stinging like fire, he made me stand up again. "Go clean yourself up, you slovenly slut. Get showered and get back here. You have ten minutes, and you'd better not be late!" I couldn't tell from his voice if he was angry or just demonstrating his power over me. I was feeling a little sensitive, and wanted to keep him from getting any more upset, so I hurried into the bathroom and washed up. When I came out of the bathroom, Kurt was on the couch watching the news channel. He checked his watch to make sure I wasn't late, and then motioned for me to sit beside him without a word. We sat watching the TV for a little while. Neither of us spoke, but there was a tense feeling of expectation in the air. Soon, the doorbell rang, and in trooped a dozen of his friends from the club. I was stark naked, of course, and started to head for the bedroom to hide out, but Kurt ordered me to stay put. I found myself shivering as he made me get everyone drinks and serve them as they found seats around the big living room. I could feel all their eyes on me, and I was so ashamed. These were people we know and see out around town. "Kurt," I began, not knowing exactly what to say, "this isn't OK." My voice was quivering and I could taste the tears welling up. "I, I don't want them to see me. This isn't part of the game." He laughed, a short derisive bark, and sneered, "Game!? This isn't a game, honey. You are mine, to do with as I wish. Tonight, I wish for you to entertain my friends." My stomach dropped, not quite sure what he meant by "entertain." "Oh no, Kurt, baby, please..." I looked to the men for support, eyes pleading, but they just looked like hungry jackals perched on the edges of their seats. They were ready to eat me. Kurt just laughed that ugly laugh again, and stood up, unzipping his fly. "Come here, babe, and show the boys what a good little slut you are." His cock was already hard, and he struggled to get it free of his fly. He grabbed my throat and shoved me hard down onto my knees, and stuffed his shaft in my mouth, grabbing my hair and fucking my face roughly. I was already crying, and that made me drool even more than usual, and for some reason the warm drops of spittle dripping onto my breasts embarrassed me more than anything. After a few minutes of this, he took his dick out of my mouth and shoved my face down against the floor, moving around behind me. He hiked my ass way up in the air, and I knew what was coming next. "Please, Kurt," I begged wretchedly, "not in front of them. Please..." But I already knew it was hopeless. He spread my ass cheeks and I felt him work some lube into my anus with his fingers. Reveling in his little show of power, he stuck his fingers in my mouth, barking "Lick them clean!" Sobbing harder, I did what he asked, and then he proceeded to assfuck me, hard. Under normal conditions I love anal sex, but I was embarrassed and ashamed to be displayed like this. I looked at the men watching, and I cried even harder at the expressions I saw on their faces. I was humiliated and mortified to see a couple of them had their cocks out, slowly stroking them. "Do you want to taste your ass, you little slut?" he asked me as he pumped harder and harder into me. "No, Kurt. Please." I could scarcely get the words out, choking on the shame. "Wrong answer, bitch!" he gritted in a low, dangerous-sounding voice. He slapped my butt really, really hard, and I cried out. "Now you are gonna have to beg for it." "No, Kurt, I don't want to..." SMACK! "Nooooooo..." my voice trailed off into another sob. SMACK! He paddled my ass harder than ever, and shoved himself into me hard enough to slide me across the polished hardwood floor. "Beg." His voice was cold as ice. "Please," I began. "Please, what?" he mocked. I had started to ask him again to stop, to not make me do this in front of his friends. But I knew it would only make him hit me again. We have no safe word. He was going to make me do whatever he wanted, and his friends were of no help to me. They were on his side... I choked back another sob, and managed to gasp, "Please let me taste my ass." I cried even harder, and I could feel the sexual arousal of the jackals growing by the minute, feeding on my shame. Cruel bastards. "Louder. I couldn't hear you." He had stopped fucking me, and his voice was just above a whisper. It sounded more menacing than ever in the suddenly still room. "Please, Kurt. Let me taste my ass." My face burned and my heart hurt, and a sense of total resignation came over me. He pulled me to my knees again, kneeling in front of him. In one of his subtle displays of power, he held his hard cock in front of my face, waiting expectantly, but making no motion to put it in my mouth. He was going to make me be the one to make the move, as if I were the one who was depraved. I swallowed the lump of revulsion and disgust in my throat and took him in my mouth. It really gets him off to force me to do something so nasty and taboo, and his cock was literally straining and thrumming in my mouth like it would explode. He has done this to me so many times over the past months I should have been used to it, but it still caused my heart to race. Part of my disgust was just because of the act itself, but some of the revulsion was reserved for myself -- beneath my abhorrence, it really excited me, a lot, and I was crestfallen to realize part of me really is a decadent slut. Kurt stood like an arrogant statue, unmoving, back arched and fingers locked together behind his head, thrusting his hips out. He looked down me as I sucked him, not saying a word. He seemed excited by his friends watching, enjoying the power play. I don't think I've ever felt his cock any harder, and I could feel my own heat growing in spite of (or maybe because of) the shame of having to service him like this. My fingers wanted to stray to my wet pussy and awakening clit, but I knew Kurt would stop me. So I focused on his cock. It didn't really take long before I could start to taste his precum. He was careful not to give anything away with his expression, but I could feel tremors coursing through his body, and his legs began to shake almost imperceptibly. I reached up to stroke his cock as I sucked, but that finally caused him to break his silence. "No hands." That was all he said. I put my hands behind my back, partly because it removed the temptation, but also because I know he likes the way I look with my shoulders back and my breasts thrust out. He often reaches down and fondles my nipples while I'm going down on him, but he clearly didn't want to give me any pleasure or stimulation now. I used deep, slow strokes, with my mouth open and relaxed, because that usually makes him moan with pleasure and cum pretty quickly. He didn't moan, didn't really give me any warning at all other than the way he held his breath, but soon I felt his hot cum explode in my mouth and his breath burst out in a rush. "Don't swallow a drop!" he barked, right in the midst of his eruption. Kurt finished cumming eventually - he seemed to take forever - and milked the last few drops of semen into my mouth. When he pulled his cock out, he slapped me in the face with it several times, and then he ordered me to show his friends. I still held his load in my mouth, and I pleaded with my eyes and shook my head no, but he just said "Now." I turned to them. They looked more predatory than ever. I knew each one by name, but I had stopped thinking of them as individuals. They were beasts of prey, a pack. Each and every one of them had his cock out of his pants now, and a sliver of fear worked its way through me, knowing my ordeal wasn't over with Kurt's ejaculation. I reluctantly opened my mouth and let them see the copious amount of semen there. They reacted with feverish excitement, jerking harder and muttering base exclamations of lust. I heard one of them say "Make her swallow it, Kurt!" Kurt just laughed. "MAKE her swallow it?" he mocked. "Christ, Chelsea's the biggest cumslut I ever fucked. You can't KEEP her from swallowing it. Isn't that right, dear? She eats jizz like a fat chick eats ice cream." It was a typical crude and insensitive Kurt statement. He grabbed my chin and turned me to look at him. "You want to swallow that tasty load, don't you?" "Mmmm hhmm," I murmured in assent, and it was true, despite the circumstances. I've always been a swallower. Ever since my first boyfriend, when I was very young, I've loved it. The first time I sucked him off, we were on the back deck of his parent's house, with them right inside, and when he came I had no idea what to do with the sudden mouthful of semen. It didn't taste bad, so I just swallowed it. It excited him so much I thought he would die! And of course, that excited me! Thus began a lifelong fondness for cum in my mouth. It sounds stupid, but there is something almost spiritual to me about taking in part of a man and knowing it becomes a part of me. It isn't a debasement, it's a kind of sensual power. Either that, or I'm part cannibal cumslut. I'm OK with this indictment, either way. I swallowed everything, savoring the taste and indescribable feel of it in my mouth. Moans and groans of lust escaped the circled jackals. And the jackals scared me. There was no way I was going to let all these bastards fuck me. Or was I? What was I going to do, call 911? Maybe I could have, but somehow I couldn't really see that happening. No, I felt my fate was out of my hands, at least for the night. I looked at Kurt in trepidation, knowing he was running the show. "Masturbate for the boys, Chelsea. Show 'em what an insatiable slut you are." He led me on hands and knees to the center of the big room. "Gather 'round, boys!" he said to the guys. "She'd love to have you cum all over her face." His voice dripped cruel sarcasm. "Wouldn't you, dear?" "No," I answered honestly, and I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice. "No, please don't let them do that, Kurt. I'll masturbate for them, but..." "You'll do what I say!" he interrupted, and slapped me across the face. "It was rhetorical question, you stupid bitch." Tears burned my eyes and ran down my face, as much from anger and humiliation as from the hard sting of his slap. I didn't respond any more to his taunt, but went to the task of masturbating so I could get this over with. Strangely enough, my pussy was already soaked when my fingers slid inside, and my clit was engorged and tingling. I moaned as the men gathered around me. Kurt stood back, watching the spectacle. "Oh, yeah, fellas -- try not to get any in her mouth. She's a greedy little slut, and she likes it way too much." He laughed that sadistic little bark again and watched as these dozen men jostled for position, getting ready to cum on his wife. I had decided I would try to get myself off, just to spite Kurt, but as turned on as my traitorous body might have been, my brain was having trouble with the feeling of vulnerability in front of all these people. Strange, how the same stimulus can have such opposite affects. I gave it my best effort, though, fingering myself relentlessly. I could smell the musky sent of my own sex along with the scent of all those cocks around me. I fought to shut off my mind and let my body slide into my orgasm. While I was fighting my inner battle, the jackals were busy coaxing their seed from straining cocks. The first stepped forward shortly, elbowing his way close and jetted his steaming white cream all over my face. I felt the goopy heat on my forehead and my nose, and streamers laying across my lips and chin. I knew better than to open my mouth wide, but I left my lips parted, and moaned at the slight taste of fresh semen on my tongue. They say men are very visual creatures, and I would agree, because that first jizz on my face started a chain reaction, and five or six more spunked on me in quick succession. I had cum in my hair, up my nose, dripping down onto my breasts, and even had a bit in my mouth despite Kurt's admonition. I'm not sure if it was the idea of what was happening, or the smell and taste of all that semen, but I quickly overcame any inner qualms and crested on a totally amazing orgasm. I was so wet as I came that I dripped all over the floor, my hand soaked and my hips grinding against my hand. I'm kind of noisy when I cum, and I cried out in pleasure and release. One of the guys came just as I did, and, undeterred by Kurt's admonition, blasted almost his entire load in my mouth as I was gasping in ecstasy. I looked at Kurt, and was so cowed by his expression that I spit it all back out, letting it run down my chin. The last couple men took quite a bit longer to get off. By the time the last one coated my face with his cum, I was sticky and part of the goo was drying. Somehow I had escaped without getting any in my eyes, but my hair, face, and throat were a sloppy mess. I started to wipe some away, but Kurt stopped me. "Don't touch it," he ordered. "You'll wear your cumslut mask until I tell you otherwise. Now, sit down and don't move 'til I come back." He added menacingly, "Don't you dare touch a drop of that cum! I'm warning you..." He walked away, and helped the men gather up their things and saw them out. When they were gone, he made me clean up the living room, still wearing all their spunk. It was starting to itch, but I dared not touch it. I felt kind of hollow and dazed, but not completely numb. My thoughts whirled like grains of sand in a dust devil, but I couldn't grab on to any of them yet. After all that had gone on that night, what he did last bothered me most. He made me kneel in front of him and wait while he jerked off to a porn flick, and then he added his own contribution to the thick flood of semen on my face. Then he left them room without a word. I sat there and wept quietly, not knowing what to do or what to think. A Sex Toy's Revenge Kurt came back presently, carrying a bundle of some sort, and said "Don't wash that off 'til you've served me breakfast in the morning." He paused, staring at me and breathing hard. "And don't think you're sleeping in my bed, you filthy whore." He threw the bundled blankets on the floor in front of me. "You can sleep on the floor." And he stalked off to bed. I spread the blankets out and cried myself to sleep, wondering how things ever got this bad and wondering if I deserved it for having been unfaithful. I tried to quiet my mind, but it took me a long time to sleep. When I woke, I had come to the realization that I didn't deserve this at all. A certain amount of BDSM play was one thing, but I knew that he had come to believe he really did own me, and he was no longer treating me as a person at all. With these realizations came a certain amount of resolve, though I didn't know what to do yet. I didn't feel I could just walk out. He really would divorce me and try to wreck my life -- that seemed clear enough after last night. And I also found myself plagued with guilt, because so much of the abuse really turned me on, and I felt I must be sick to feel that way. It took me a long time to winnow out the good from the bad, and to realize that liking the game did not make me bad or sick -- it was the lack of respect from Kurt that was sick. I was only sick if I let him get away with it. The next few days were more normal, though that seems like a strange term to use. Kurt's treatment of me was much like it had been in the months since my misstep. In the meantime, I was formulating a plan and checking out a few ideas... And then, before I could put any of my plans into action, he did something else that showed how little he loved and respected me any more. Doms are supposed to care for their subs, but Kurt wasn't playing by any code of ethics. He was just using the Dom/sub lifestyle as cover for abusing me. Saturday rolled around, Kurt's self-described favorite day of the week, and he told me he had big plans for me. A knot formed instantly in my stomach at the thought, but it loosened a little when he mentioned that we were going out. He said he bought me some new things to wear, and I started to get a little excited. As soon as I saw what he got, though, my excitement evaporated. He spread out on the bed a tiny red miniskirt, thigh-high white stockings, impossibly high-heeled black patent leather shoes, and a white blouse that was so short I was sure it wouldn't completely cover the bottom of my breasts. I saw it had exactly two buttons. Noticeably absent was any type of undergarment, unless you counted the thigh-highs. The clothes weren't the worst of it, though. From another bag he pulled a chain leash, a black leather collar, studded leather handcuffs, and other assorted paraphernalia that I couldn't quite sort out at first glance. "No, Kurt." I tried to make my voice sound serious and resolute. "I'm not going out dressed like that." His quiet grin was worse than if he had argued or yelled at me. "We'll see," was all he said, and his voice chilled me so that I literally shivered. He went to get washed up, and I was left alone to imagine how the day was going to go. I was on my own -- I hadn't had time to put any of my ideas into motion yet. When he came back from the bathroom he was dressed impeccably in a sleek olive Italian suit and a plum colored shirt open at the collar. Expensive leather loafers completed the casually wealthy look. Bastard. It pissed me off that I still found him attractive, and I tried not to show any sign of admiration. "Time to get dressed," he said as cheerfully as if we were just going out on a dinner date. Which we may have been, but it sure wasn't the kind I had in mind. "Look, Kurt, I told you..." and that's as far as I got. He growled like an animal, "You will do as I say!" He grabbed up the glittering leash and the leather collar, and I thought for a moment he was going to beat me with the heavy chain, so I brought my arms up to cover my face. He grabbed me by my forearms, though, and forced me down onto the floor. The chain in his hand bit into my arm because he squeezed so tight. I fought against him, fought hard, but he was amazingly strong and wiry for such a small guy. He's thin and not much over 5' 9", so I was surprised at how quickly he wrestled me to the floor. This was a whole new thing, and I was so scared I could hardly catch my breath. Yes, he manhandled me a lot, but I have always been at least somewhat complicit, up 'til now. This was the first time he had absolutely, against my will and with me fighting him, physically forced me to do something. Once he had me on the floor, he knelt with his shins holding down my arms, and it hurt really badly. Before I knew it he put the collar on me and cinched it tight. He jumped up agilely and dragged me by the leash to a standing position, and before I could get my bearings he hauled me over to the ring in the ceiling he uses to tie me in a strappado. He climbed up on a chair, and hooked the leash through the steel ring up over my head. He pulled it tight and I had to stand on tiptoes to keep the collar from choking me. He stepped back and looked at me, breathing hard. I was all but hanging by my neck, scared to death. I'd never seen him like this, ever. He didn't say anything at all to me, just came up to me and started ripping my clothes off me. I had time to remember how I thought it would be so romantic to have a man want me so badly he tore my clothes off, but this wasn't romantic at all. I wasn't even sure he wanted me. He just wanted to humiliate me. Once he had stripped me, he started putting on the clothes he had bought, dressing me like a doll. I tried to make it hard for him, twisting around when he tried to get the stockings on me, but he grabbed the leash and lifted, nearly lifting me off my feet, and the leather collar choked off my air. I was half afraid he was going to kill me, but he let me down before I grew too faint. It was just to remind me of who was in control. I decided right then to just go along with it and get through the day. If I had thought being used in front of his friends was bad, I knew this had gotten so much worse. It strengthened my resolve to put my plans to work, but I had to get past today before I could do that, and I was clearly not in charge of my situation. Kurt had all the power, but he wasn't really in control either, and that frightened me horribly. I thought about how twisted he must really be to react this way to my affair, and I was ashamed that I had not been able to tell what he was really like when I married him. Even worse, I was ashamed that I still loved him. It made no sense, even to me, but there it was. Love or not, though, I knew he had gotten dangerous and that I had to get away for good. And, I realized, I wanted revenge. Even as I hung there by a collar around the neck, my plans began to evolve. Kurt got me dressed and put the heels on, which at least took some of the pressure off my neck. He cuffed my hands behind my back and then pulled my wrists up between my shoulder blades, wrenching my arms as he did, I cried out, but he paid no mind. He attached a length of chain from the cuffs to a steel loop at the back of the collar, effectively trussing me up with my arms behind my back. I was very thankful that I'm flexible, because it didn't really hurt after the initial twist. Then he got some of the other things I hadn't been able to identify. The first was a gag. I had seen a ball gag before, but this was different -- it had a black ring in place of the ball, and when he put it on and strapped it tight, the ring wedged into my mouth and held it open. I tried to ask him to stop, knowing it was fruitless, but I couldn't even form words, so I just shut up. I began to drool almost immediately and had no way to stop it. This was going to be so much worse than I thought it was going to be. Where could he possibly take me like this? But he wasn't finished yet. He pulled from his bag of tricks a fine chain about 10 or 12 inches long with a clip at each end. I was puzzled until he lifted the blouse, and then I recognized what they were. I cried through the gag when the first clamp bit into my nipple. I have extremely sensitive nipples, and I've even been made to orgasm by a lover patiently nibbling and rubbing them and kissing my neck. So the pinch of the clamp was pretty painful, and the second one was worse because I knew it was coming. Once they were attached, the chain hung in front of my bare belly, dangling out from under the skimpy blouse. Most ladies like jewelry, but I'd never seen anything quite like this. Kurt tugged savagely at the chain to make sure the clamps were firmly in place, which caused the pain to flair all over again. The last thing he pulled out was a butt plug. Not just any butt plug, either, but a plug with a tail attached, about two feet long and ringed like a raccoon or a tabby cat. He held it up in my face, grinning cruelly, and said "Don't worry, this will be for later. My little whore will get to be my little pussy." I shook my head and babbled sounds of protest through the ring gag, but I knew it would make no difference. He unhooked the leash from the metal ring and took me to the garage, getting me settled in the car and seatbelted in, which was tricky because of my arms up behind me. I had to sit forward in the seat, which was uncomfortable, but I was sure he didn't care. He drove for quite a while, and I wasn't really able to pay attention exactly where we were. I didn't recognize the area at all, in any case, and I was thankful for that. I certainly didn't want to run into anyone we knew. Kurt pulled into a big mall, and my heart sank a little. Saturday in a mall, and I was going to be paraded around looking like this. I felt tears welling up again, which only made me drool more. He parked the car and reached across to unfasten my seatbelt. He got out the butt plug and put some lube on it, and told me to turn around and bend over. I didn't want to, and it was awkward anyway, so I was slow about moving, and he ended up grabbing the chain holding my wrists to my collar and jerking me around. He pushed me over, raised the skirt, and pushed the butt plug into my ass. It wasn't a small plug, and it had a steep neck section to keep it in place, and I gasped as my anus slipped over the widest section and snapped into the narrow neck. He hadn't given me any time to relax, and my muscles spasmed and quivered around the intruding plug. Kurt got out of the car and came around to open my door, pulling me out of the car and clipping the leash to his belt right above his crotch. The message was unmistakable. We walked into the mall, and I felt my face burning as we entered the crowd. Teenage boys and middle-aged men alike stared in a mix of disbelief, disgust, and unbridled lust. Some women even looked at me like they wouldn't mind being me, or maybe leading me around. Families tried to shield their children. I tried to avert my eyes but there was nowhere to look. Most people just looked quickly away, embarrassed or offended. A few comments made it to my ears, making my heart ache with shame. None of them were sympathetic. We made a couple of laps around the mall and looked in a couple of the shops before a mall cop came up to us, telling us we were causing a disturbance and needed to leave. He tried but couldn't keep his eyes off the chain dangling from my breasts and the tail swishing under my skirt. Almost as an afterthought, he finally looked at my face and asked, "Are you all right, ma'am?" I glanced quickly at Kurt, and then at the mall cop and nodded yes, and Kurt lead me away. When we got back to the car, Kurt buckled me in without even taking the butt plug out. Sitting was more uncomfortable than ever. "I'm famished," Kurt announced as he got himself buckled in, as if nothing were at all unusual about our outing. "Time for some lunch." He drove a short distance to a busy chain diner. I didn't even try to protest as he led me inside, and I was too tired to care about the hostess' pitying, disgusted look as she seated us. When Kurt ordered, he told the waitress, "My wife won't be eating, today, so just a glass of water for her, please." Then he ordered a delicious meal for himself. It says a lot about my state of mind that I was very thankful for the water, because my mouth was dry now from being held open by the ring gag. I had to sit and wait while Kurt ate. It smelled so good, and I was hungry, too, so my tummy growled while I waited. I thought he'd forgotten about the water, but once he finished his meal, he reached for my glass. I figured he would take the gag out so I could drink, but instead he dipped the straw in and put his finger over the end, then let the water drain into my mouth. It's really hard to swallow when your mouth is held open, and of course I dribbled down my chin, and of course Kurt didn't wipe it up. He was patient enough to feed me the whole glass, though. The bad news, then, was that I had to pee. I finally made myself understood, and Kurt laughed. I was so mad at him for laughing at me. "Tell you what, I'll hold your tail in the parking lot if you have to pee that bad." I glared at him, but I couldn't go to the bathroom on my own with my hands trussed up. So when we got outside, I hunkered down next to the car, and Kurt held the tail off the ground, and I peed on the asphalt like a drunk teenager. People walked by, but I didn't even care. I kind of hoped we'd get arrested, but no police came, and we got back in the car. Kurt reached over and tugged the chain attached to the nipple clamps. I grunted at his roughness, but it didn't really hurt that much. "Hhhhmmmm," he muttered, "we might need to give those nips a rest for a while." With that he jerked on the chain and the clamp on my right nipple tore loose, and I let out a scream. The pain of the clamp being jerked off was bad, but then sensation started to flood back in to the nipple and that was damn near excruciating. While I was still moaning and whimpering, Kurt took up the chain again and tugged tauntingly on the clamp still attached to my left nipple. I begged as best I could with the gag in my mouth, and he relented. He raised up the short blouse and unclamped the thing slowly, but I think that made it even worse, because when the pain struck there was no shock to cover it. He reached under the shirt with both hands and massaged my breasts and nipples, and if hurt like hell, but soon the worst of it passed. When he put my shirt back down I was so tender the material hurt, though. He drove us around some more until we got to a seedy looking part of town. I still didn't really know where we were, but he parked on the street and pulled me out onto the sidewalk. I tried to get him to release my hands because my arms and shoulders ached, but I couldn't speak clearly and he mocked me so I shut up. He did check my arms, though, and said my color was still good. As if he was a damned doctor. Bastard. Right there in the street, Kurt raised up the blouse and reattached the nipple clamps. Good grief did they hurt this time. All the feeling had come back, plus my nipples felt as though they had been sanded. He hooked the handle of the leash around his belt again, and then unclipped the other end from my collar and clipped it on the chain hanging from my breasts. The weight dragged uncomfortably on them, and I had to be careful to move when he did. I looked around the street again. There were people around, but they all looked like they would rather join in than call 911 if I was being raped. The few businesses -- liquor store, grocery, smoke shop, greasy spoon -- looked scarcely better than the many boarded up storefronts. I couldn't imagine what the hell we were doing here. Having gotten my leash all rearranged, Kurt got a fat magic marker out of the glove box. He bent over and started writing on my belly. I tried to get away but he pulled up hard on the leash, lifting the bottom edge of the blouse up over my breasts and bringing me to my toes. I acquiesced and he finished what he was writing. I looked down to see "CHEATING WHORE -- TOUCH ME" written across my abdomen. We started off down the street. He made sure to lead me past any group of people who happened to be milling around. Most just called out obscenities or wolf-whistled, but a few took Kurt up on his offer, and he paused to let them fondle my breasts or lift my skirt to look at the butt plug tail or slap my ass. One guy slid his fingers as far in my mouth as he could get them through the ring gag before I knew what he was doing. It was like he was trying to gag me, and I jerked back, coughing and trying to spit. It was just disgusting. If I hadn't planned on getting revenge before, I certainly was now. We continued for a couple of blocks and turned a corner to find an adult book store. I knew right away that this was exactly why we were in this part of town. My stomach hurt again, because I've heard stories about these "bookstores," and I was scared to death that Kurt was going to let complete strangers fuck me or something. I was totally trussed up still, and I knew I wouldn't get any help here. I thought I might throw up. Kurt led me in, and we passed through the storefront to an unobtrusive doorway. After a series of knocks, the door opened, money changed hands, and we were admitted without a word. It occurred to me that the guy seemed to know Kurt, which didn't surprise me. Not much surprised me anymore about my husband. We went down a dim hallway with doors opening off of it every few feet. Movie booths, or worse, I thought. Further along the hallway there was a sort of lobby with a couple of dingy looking couches and a few faded looking people hanging about, both men and women. Kurt sat on one of the couches but made me stand beside him. He reached up and pulled at the front of the blouse, popping the two buttons off and leaving it hanging partway open. I moaned and I felt tears burning again. He hooked the leash back onto the collar and wrapped the loose end around his fist. I couldn't believe we were here. How did this happen? Was he going to whore me out to someone? I felt terribly sick again. Quite a few men passed through, and it didn't take me long to figure out the women there were prostitutes. I don't know if the men were clients, pimps, boyfriends or what, but a few of them just hung around the lobby while others came and went. Every kind of guy showed up, from nicely dressed high-roller types to dirty street people. Several guys wanted to buy my time, but each time Kurt refused, much to my relief. But he did point to the writing, and tell them they were welcome to touch. The guys here were even more aggressive than the men on the street, and didn't hesitate to reach between my legs and try to rub my pussy or grope my breasts. I squirmed to avoid them, but Kurt held me tight. I was crying now, but that just seemed to excite some of them. One guy insisted on pulling the butt plug out and putting back in, several times over. Most of the lube was gone, and it really hurt. A heavy-set, nicely dressed guy, maybe 50 or 60 years old, really insisted on paying for me and taking me into one of the little rooms. I mean REALLY insisted. Kurt refused, but the man wasn't easily swayed. "Come on, just let her give me a blowjob, at least. I'll make it worth your while." "I don't need your money, pal. You want to touch her right here, feel free." Kurt waved a hand at the marker scrawl on my belly. "Now, I mean no offense, but I don't want her catching some disease and giving it to me. Nobody fucks her that I don't know. Nobody." A Sex Toy's Revenge The man eyed me, and then turned back to Kurt. The reptilian light in his eye made me stifle a sob. He gave me the creeps, and Kurt's words hurt, badly. He wasn't protecting me from being treated like a prostitute. He just didn't want to catch an STD. "Your wife, huh? Cheated?" Lizard man leered at me, lifting one edge of the blouse to get a better view of my breasts. "Yeah," Kurt grunted back. His mood seemed to have grown darker with the man's insistence. "Tell you what. I'll give you a thousand bucks to let me jerk off on her face." He paused, then glanced at a skinny girl that looked like she couldn't have been over 18. She was lounging on the other couch, steadfastly ignoring us. "Better yet, how about she gives me my blowjob," he hissed, nodding toward the girl, "and then I bust my nut on your wife's face." I couldn't stand the idea of this guy's cum on me, and I started arguing with Kurt, though I couldn't really speak for the gag. My jaw hurt, my arms hurt, my feet hurt from the shoes, my nipples hurt from the clamps, my ass hurt, and I was just about to lose it. I just started bawling, and I could feel streamers of saliva dripping down my chin onto my chest. I think that is what decided things for Kurt. "A thousand bucks, and you can cum on her tits. And I get to watch." I don't even want to describe the scene with Lizard man. The room was tiny, and it was filthy, and there was hardly room for all of us. It stunk of sweat, stale semen, and desperation. There was no bed or anything, only a folding chair and a video screen setup along with a little shuttered window. Kurt sat on the chair in a corner. I had to kneel down and the guy spread open my blouse. He did take a few minutes to suck at my breasts and pull on the nipple clamps. Then the tired looking, skinny hooker got on her knees beside me and blew him. She looked much older than 18 up close, and I had time to wonder if she just looked old from drugs and abuse, or if she was really older. The whole thing had the excitement and passion of a visit to the dentist, and I wondered how anybody could get off from the cursory efforts of this poor girl, but it really didn't take long. Lizard man let out a perfunctory groan, pulled his cock out of the girl's mouth and sprayed me with jism. He aimed at my chest, but the squirts of semen went in all different directions. Most of it ended up on my breasts and blouse, but I felt a few drops on my chin and neck. Even his cum seemed greasy and unsavory. And that was that. Everyone went their own way and Kurt led me out into the street again. I glanced down at myself, and I was a mess again. I had white goo dripping from my skin, my blouse hung open because the buttons were torn off, the marker was getting smeared, and I had big dirty stains on the knees of my thigh-highs from the years of filth embedded in the carpet of that dingy little room. Kurt pulled on the leash and led me into the street and back to the car. If the walk to the bookstore was bad, this was ten times worse. Everyone seemed to notice all my stains, and knew what had happened. Eventually, though, we got to the car. Kurt took the ring gag off, thank goodness, and tossed it onto the car seat. I worked my jaw to relieve the sore stiffness, and I was shocked to hear myself thanking him - THANKING him, for heaven's sake - for taking the gag out. Never mind all the shit he had put me through. But I was relieved my ordeal was about over, and gratitude welled up in spite of it all. I asked him to unhook my arms, please, and I was dismayed when he said "Not quite yet." Would this day never end? He stood with his back in the open car door frame and unzipped his pants, letting his hard cock out into the open air. I gasped and looked up and down the street again. Except for the men who seemed to hang around perpetually, there was no real traffic. This was a dead part of town. Kurt took me by my hair and pulled my face to his groin, and I sank to my knees. "No, not on your knees. Stand up!" he ordered me. I stood back up, and bent at the waist as he pulled me down. It was a stretch, standing in those high heels, and I felt the strain in my hamstrings and back. He started fucking my mouth without ceremony. I was still helplessly trussed, so I had little choice but to let him. He hadn't shown much reaction back at the bookstore, so I was surprised at how much pent up sexual energy he was unleashing. That, or just anger -- it was hard to tell which. A few of the men nearby gathered around to watch. I thought the little crowd might cause the police to show up, but I guess the police don't hang around here much. The few cars that passed just slowed down for a look and then drove on by. Bent over like this, I knew my ass was hanging out, showing the damned butt plug tail. I felt hands on my bottom, on the back of my head shoving me harder against Kurt's thrusts, and fondling my breasts clumsily. I heard someone laugh as the tugged a bit at the tail and twirled it around. A couple of people had cell phones out, recording the action, and I hoped I would be unrecognizable when the videos inevitably hit the internet. I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled hastily down, and I moaned, trying to get Kurt's attention. "Uh-uh," Kurt said, sounding like he owned the damned street, "hands only, buddy." I don't know why they listened to him, but he had a kind of natural authority, I guess. For all I knew, he did own this street, or at least had a lot of pull here. I don't know, but was glad to hear the guy zip back up. The most humiliating thing to me is that I found myself getting turned on by being exposed, by all the hands and attention, and also by Kurt's display of calm authority. I cursed myself for thinking any kind of positive thought about him. And god help me, I cursed myself for the wetness I felt between my legs. I kept thinking "Just cum, you bastard, and get me out of here." And, soon enough, he did. He took me home without much ado. When he took off the chains, cuffs, and collar, I was so stiff I could hardly straighten my arms back out. The nipple clamps left my nerve ending screaming with agony as feeling flooded back in, but I hardly had the energy to moan in pain. After stripping me naked, he left the house. I showered, soaked in the tub, and showered again. I knew I had to do something. The first couple of months had been OK, even exciting, but this was quickly escalating. I knew he didn't really love me anymore, and it broke my heart. But it also gave me strength to put my plan in motion. Kurt came home very late that night, and left again Sunday morning, telling me I'd better have dinner ready for him by 8:00. I spent the day on the phone and on the internet, making plans for my revenge. I had a few things to wrap up Monday while Kurt was at work, but it seemed things were going to come together. I needed them to, badly, before something even worse happened to me. I wasn't touched Sunday night, except for the usual manhandling and verbal degradation. At least I ate my dinner at the table instead of from a bowl on the floor. Monday came at last. I made a final phone call or two, and accepted one visitor. If he was disconcerted by having to deal with a woman wearing nothing but a bath towel, he didn't show it. He was very polite and extremely helpful. He taught me exactly what I needed to know. I guess he was used to dealing with all kinds of strangeness from wealthy clients. The only thing I hadn't exactly figured out was how to get Kurt into the handcuffs to begin with. I knew this part of my plan was an unnecessary risk, but I couldn't help it. I wanted revenge. A solution presented itself in the form of 6 male strippers I hired from a high-end escort service. Once they heard my story, they were happy to arrive at the house a little before Kurt got home. The huge check I wrote them from our joint account didn't hurt, either. At last, everything was arranged, and all I had to do was wait for the bastard to come home. Having a little time to reflect, I found myself thinking about some of the things I wanted to do after this was over. So much of what happened between Kurt and me had come from a bad, bad place -- real abuse -- but I learned some things about myself. I learned I liked giving up control, but not to a person who no longer cares for me or respects me. I have been so excited by a lot of things that I've been forced to do, and I really liked the component of pain and submission in some sexual acts. I only wish they had happened under different circumstances. I hoped to explore some of these things with someone who understood and cared... I was drawn out of my reverie by the sound of voices on the doorstep, then the doorbell chime. I'd lost track of the time. The dancers were here already. I shivered, suddenly nervous, and went to answer the door. I realized with a shock that I had been imagining a future without Kurt - a first for me. I had to shake all these thoughts and feelings out of my head. It was time to focus -- I had a big night planned. As soon as Kurt came through the door that evening after work, he was on alert. The guys had parked down the street so there was no car in the driveway, but he seemed to sense something was up. It was probably my feelings of anxiety and excitement showing through. He went through his usual routine of making me crawl and lick his expensive leather shoes, and then went into the bedroom to change. The air seemed charged with electricity. After he went in, the guys I had hired came out of the guest bedroom and stood against the wall on either side of the door. Kurt is quick and wiry, and I was worried, but these men were all weightlifters and dancers, and they grabbed and cuffed him handily as soon as he came out. They brought him into the living room and I tied him to a wooden kitchen chair while they held him. I had been practicing knots for the last two days, and was proud of my work. His hands, arms, and legs were all tied securely to the chair with his hands behind his back -- he wasn't going anywhere. He was yelling and cursing his head off, though, so I gagged him with a kitchen towel. He stopped yelling and just glared. "If you'll be quiet I'll take the gag out. Nobody will hear you anyway, you know that. Besides, it'll be fun! You like seeing other guys touch your wife, right?" He struggled at the ropes and looked like he'd like to strangle me, but eventually he nodded, settling back in resignation. I took the gag out and stepped away from him. Somehow he seemed dangerous, even tied up. I handed one of the strippers a pair of scissors, and stood back to watch as he cut every stitch of clothing off Kurt's body. It was tricky, and the clothes were in shreds by the time he finished. Kurt was fuming, but all he said was "You're gonna get it now, you fucking bitch." My die was cast. There was no turning back, and I knew I would get my divorce now, for good or ill. But I thought I knew how to make it go in my favor, at least a little. I served the guys some expensive scotch from the liquor cabinet, and we sat talking for a little bit. I filled them in on some of the debasing things I had been made to do. Kurt looked confused, wondering why nothing was happening, why I was telling these strangers all this stuff. He had to know, from the costumes the men wore, that they were strippers. What he didn't know was that we were waiting for one more guest. Presently the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I was naked, as usual, but I knew who to expect. I returned to the living room with my arm around the waist of a curvy, beautiful Latina with shining, long black hair wearing a beautiful, form-fitting sapphire dress that scooped low to show her ample cleavage. "Kurt, I believe you know Ana." I swept my arm toward the troupe of dancers and said, "Gentlemen, this is Adriana. I call her Ana." And I gave a kiss on the side of her mouth. "What is that fucking cunt doing in my house?!" Kurt raged. "Get her out of here!" You see, Adriana is the woman I had the affair with. She had been my personal trainer, and we became really, really close. The affair was a short, amazingly intense fling that surprised us both. I was ecstatic, when I called her on Sunday, to find that she still wanted to see me, that she was willing to help me in my plans to be free of Kurt. I hadn't talked to her since the affair blew up in my face, and I was afraid she'd be mad, but she was very sympathetic and kind. My phone calls yesterday had been very productive, as you can see. "She's my guest, and she's staying, at least while this house is still partly mine." I thought his head would explode, he got so red, but the veins pulsing in his neck and forehead held strong. I had just a moment to be disappointed that he didn't stroke out right then, but I really didn't want that, and I just as quickly felt guilty for the thought. Ana and I settled onto the couch and the dancers fired up the sound system and went into their routine. There weren't usually more dancers than audience members, but they knew this was a special case and adapted with ease. And pleasure, I might add -- they seemed to be having a great time, even enjoying Kurt's glowering countenance. This was turning out to be priceless. Well, not exactly priceless. It was costing Kurt a boatload of money. They danced and gyrated, stripping off costumes as Ana and I laughed and clapped. They were all great looking, and gave a really good performance despite the less-than-stellar venue and audience count. As each one got naked, we were treated to lap dances and huge penises bouncing in our faces. Out came the whipped cream, and we each licked white fluffy goo from long hard shafts. They must take Viagra or something, because all six of them stayed pretty hard all night. They encouraged Ana to take off her clothes, too, and she did a damned fine job of emulating a stripper, gradually teasing and exposing every inch of her smooth mocha skin. The guys danced backup as she slinked and swayed, and I was very wet by the time she finished. She came over and straddled me, but instead of a teasing lap dance, she kissed me hungrily and gyrated her hips over mine, all to the cheers and applause of the dancers. We came up for a quick breath and I looked at Kurt. He had been silent the whole time, but his cock was showing some signs of life. I helped Ana off my lap and went over to him. "Looks like you enjoy watching me with Ana, baby!" I mocked him. "Or is it the guys you like? I always wondered about you!" I hadn't really, but I figured what the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. I leaned down and stroked his penis. He tried to shy away, but he couldn't do a thing. Those internet knot tutorials were paying off. I jerked him for just a few minutes and he was fully erect, though I could tell he hated that his body was responding. I knew that feeling too well, and I was enjoying myself enormously. I left him sitting there with his cock poking up ridiculously and went back to Ana. "Want to torture him some?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. I told the dancers they were welcome to have a another drink and watch, or dance, or whatever. Then I pulled a plush rug over right in front of Kurt's chair. Ana and I sank to the floor, kissing and touching as we went. I noticed four of the strippers sat on the couch, but two sort of danced around us as they watched, staying close. I shut all of that out for a while, and focused on Ana. I had been so tortured by Kurt that I had almost forgotten how much I loved being with her, how much I liked her smell, the round voluptuous curves of her body, and the soft velvety feel of her skin. I kissed her sweet mouth deeply and then kissed my way down her body. I tasted her neck, smelling ever so lightly of citrus, and kissed the smooth mounds of her breasts. Her perky, hard nipples perched atop dark brown, tiny areolas, and I tasted each in turn. I could scarcely control myself as I kissed down her belly and then tasted the delicious wetness of her petite little pussy. She was the first and only woman I've ever been with, but I could eat her all day if she'd let me. I was lost to the world for a while as I dined on Ana's delicate juices, but soon she came in a gushing torrent of moans, squeals, and wetness. I looked up to see that the strippers who had been dancing around us were now on either side of Kurt, teasing him by waving their ample meat in his face. Ana sat up and we laughed at his discomfort, making him turn red again. He seemed to be vibrating with anger, he was so upset. But I noticed his dick was still hard. I went over and knelt beside the chair, taking his cock in my hand and tugging as I talked to him. I teased him more, asking whether it was the cock in his face or the lesbian show that turned him on more. He refused to answer, just glaring at me. But his cock throbbed in my hand, and I knew he was really turned on in spite of himself. "Do you want me to suck you off, baby?" I taunted. "I know how you like to have your dick in my mouth when people are watching. Would you like that?" As I spoke I put my face close to the head of his penis, my lips so close I know he could feel the warmth of my breath. As I stroked the full length of him I lowered my open mouth as if to take him in, extending my tongue to within millimeters of his head, but I never touched him with lips or tongue. I could feel his already hard cock straining to reach my mouth, pulsing and throbbing. I looked at the two men standing by Kurt, and then, looking Kurt square in the face, I said "I think I like their dicks better." And I dropped his straining cock back in his lap. Taking his cue, the guy to my right stepped up in front of me, and I began stroking his big member. Speaking to Ana, I said "Care to join me?" She really only likes women, and usually disdains swinging both ways, so I was gratified and a bit surprised when she knelt beside me and started tentatively licking his cock. Hell, I had been impressed that she licked the whipped cream off the guys, so I was touched by her willingness to do this for me. I joined her, and we doubled teamed that big dick like we were starving, once she got into it. Of course, we had to take breaks to kiss one another... It seems we had gotten the attention of the other guys, because soon they were all circled around us. Someone had turned the music back up, and they were dancing and swaying to the beat, laughing and watching the show. Unlike Kurt's asshole jackal friends, these guys didn't feel threatening at all, and it was really kind of fun to have all that man-meat surrounding us. One of the highlights of the night, for me, was when one of the dancers reached down and started jerking Kurt's dick. Kurt was so furious he actually bounced the chair off the floor, but to the stripper's credit, he never lost his grip and wasn't frightened off by the vile threats spat at him. I found out his name was Martin, and afterward I gave him a fat tip. Kurt raged ineffectually for a while until I threatened to gag him again, and he quieted down. Martin continued to jerk his cock just enough to keep him hard and on edge for the rest of the show. The rest of the show consisted of Ana and I sucking off each of the strippers, naturally. Well, actually Ana soon switched to going down on me and suckling my breasts while I sucked the strippers. The part of my revenge plan I conceived of first was the part I liked best, though. You see, I wanted Kurt to have a taste of his own medicine. I wanted him to be covered in stranger's spunk, since he liked doing it to me. That was the idea that made me think to get in touch with the escort agency to begin with. The rest just kind of fell into place.