Anything to Come

ONE

"I'm going to destroy you," he whispered in her ear and the muscles in her pussy clenched around his fingers as they slowly worked in and out of her slippery warmth. He nipped at her ear, and she moaned into the packing filling her mouth and held in place with tight black electrical tape. His other hand slapped her tied tits, adding another shade of red to the already pinkening flesh.

"I'm going make you hurt, cry, and want to come, over and over and over and you won't be able to stop me." He rolled her onto her back, her arms bound behind her making her arch and pushed her frog-tied legs aside. "But first, I'm going to fuck you hard, until I come."

She looked up at him through hazy eyes, her beautifully bound chest rising and falling rapidly, and when he thrust inside her, deep and hard, she was wet and waiting. She screamed into her gag as he slapped her breasts in time with his hard thrusts and she was on the verge of coming herself when he pulled out and shot hot cum over her belly. She moaned in frustration. So close.

He fingered the sticky wetness on her belly and rubbed some over her breasts and then under her nose. She thrashed her head from side to side but she would be smelling him the rest of the way. He straddled her chest, his back to her face, his ass grinding his cum all over her, and reached for the wide wooden spoon.

"This is what a dirty little cunt gets." He brought the spoon down hard on her tender wet vagina and she screamed, bound thighs trying to close. "Close your legs and I'll tie them open and then you'll really know pain." She whimpered and then slowly spread her legs as much as his ropes would allow. And then the beating resumed. He paddled the soft flesh of her inner thighs, all while one finger probed and played with the little button hiding under her fold of flesh. Every few smacks and he would suddenly withdraw and slap her pussy hard, the wooden spoon sending her into a spasm of pain and lust.

She was bright red and swollen when he tossed the wet spoon into the corner and slipped down between her thighs. Her taste on his tongue, that sweet, salty essence of her, got him rock hard again. He nipped and licked and sucked and sent her to the peak of her orgasm before sitting up and listening to the whimpering symphony of her denial.

He crawled up next to her, pressing into her side, kissed her puffed, tear-streaked cheek. He slapped a bound breast hard when she didn't look at him. Then their eyes met, his claiming, hers surrendering. He ran his hand over her sticky belly, down past her shaven mons, and slipped a finger into her, finding her clit. Her eyes pleaded with him, as he slowly rolled the little button.

Then he pinched, hard, and she squealed. "What would you do to come, little horny cunt? Would you do anything?"

She nodded her head frantically and his fingers stopped. She tensed, and he could feel the walls of her wanting flesh clench around his finger. "Anything at all?" Her head froze, eyes widening, lust dancing merrily with fear. Then she nodded. He chuckled, fingers resuming his attentions on the button at the center of her universe. She closed her eyes and strained against his finger and when she again was on the edge of explosion, he withdrew.

"Then you're fucked," he said and slipped out of bed. Grabbing more rope, he tied her legs open to either side of the bed. He glanced back at her at the doorway, smirking, then flicked off the light and locked her in.

TWO

What do you do in the face of evil? You run, if you're smart. If you can't run, you stand and fight, as a last resort. When you're tied spread open on the bedroom bed, mouth packed with your panties, while your husband is out doing whatever he wants and you need to come, come so badly ... well then, you're fucked.

She lay there, the sweat cooling on her forehead while the lust inside her throbbed with every heartbeat. He wasn't evil, in the good and bad sense. He was a fucking prick, taking only what he wanted and not giving her a thing unless it piqued his fancy. But he was her Master, her One, the man she lovingly surrendered to, needed to submit to, felt complete only when she was entirely, completely his. If he wanted her tied and frustrated for how ever long his whim would rule, then that was that.

She shifted her bound arms beneath her and even though the bed was heavenly soft, she'd been bound for some time, elbows touching, wrists melded as if they were one, and the instant pain of her stupid little movement caused her to scream through the gag. Tears rolled down her eyes and her frogtied knees, lashed to either end of the bed, keeping her spread wide, pulled uselessly against the ropes. The air conditioner kicked in and a cool breeze flicked across her wet pussy and she moaned - what she wouldn't do for his tongue to flick there, catch the hood of her clit, slip past and attack the little button that would bring the blinding light of perfect pleasure. But that was not to be. Tonight, he wanted her to suffer. For him.

She closed her eyes. "What would you do to come," he'd asked, and her first reaction, her only reaction was, "Anything." She'd watched his crisp blue eyes through the havoc of lust his fingers were causing as they gently played with her clit, flicking, circling, pinching, then flicking again ... and when he'd asked again, "Anything?" she'd had to summon up all her remaining lucid thoughts to briefly contemplate what "anything" would mean to him. And again, it didn't matter. "Anything" was non-negotiable.

Some time later, as she nodded in and out of sleep, a sleep where her arms were just on the edge of going numb and her shoulders screamed with every breath and her legs trembled from the strain, and the heat that had pulsed from between spread-open legs was reduced to a simmer, he returned.

"Wake up cunt," came his voice from the doorway as he flicked on the bedroom light, momentarily blinding her. She whimpered through aching jaws. He came over and sat on the side of the bed, casually rubbing her chilled breasts, sore from his ropes, with a callused, working man's hands. She shuddered as he found a flattened nipple and gently rubbed his finger around the slowly stiffening flesh. She closed her eyes and moaned as a hand found her exposed pussy and thrust inside without warning. He chuckled, finding her still wet.

"Do you still want to come," he asked, slipping his fingers in and out, knuckle brushing her little button, fueling the fire that had been simmering for so long. "Or would you rather be untied? You can't have both - one or the other, my little needy cunt." He thrust his finger inside her. "Come", he said, then withdrew, leaving her empty. "Or freedom."

She moaned again, knowing she needed to come, had to come, deserved to come - she'd surrendered, submitted, and now it was time for her reward for being good - but staying tied, after being tied for so long. He would do it, too. He'd bring her to the edge of oblivion and then push her over and while she was fighting her way back from unconscious bliss, he'd check her circulation and decide whether she could endure or needed her bondage changed.

She whimpered into her gag and were her mouth not trapped by panties and tape, she would have bitten her lip - he'd call it "pretty fucking sexy" - and that would have been enough to fuck her brains out. But not now, not tonight. Tonight she was just fucked. His fingers increased their steady thrusts, in and out of her pussy, and she could hear little slurpy noises. The humiliation of her captive lust.

Maybe she wouldn't get to decide, maybe he would just do what he wanted? There was an allure to that - she felt it. Submitting without choice, just giving in, just being. She strained, arms twitching beneath her and this time the pain in her shoulders, elbows and captured wrists was gas on the flames and she pulled against his ropes, knees thrashing, hurting, everything hurting so good ...

His hands were gone, leaving nothing but the throbbing of her body against the ropes, a pulse with every heartbeat. He was staring down at her, eyes sparkling with lust of his own. She knew he loved playing her like the guitar he cherished - and really, wasn't that all she was now? Something to be played with, to make music from her moans and screams and whispers. To coax and tease and build and finally peak in a dazzling coda.

She pleaded behind the packing in her mouth, hips straining upward, trying to find something to rub against her pussy. She was rewarded with a slap to both breasts and then, excruciatingly, a hard slap to the wetness between her legs.

And she almost came then. Almost. But the slaps were too abrupt, over before she knew it, leaving only sharp pain in their wake, which also faded into the background that was the pulsing need to come. "You haven't answered, cunt. Just because your fuckhole mouth is already full, doesn't mean you can't answer me." He leaned in close and kissed her nose, her forehead, the tape where her lips would have been.

"Maybe you need more time to think." He started to get off the bed and she screamed into the gag, straining against the ropes. NO! He was NOT going to leave her again! Not like this! She bucked her hips into the air, as much as the ropes allowed, grinding and bucking, like she would if she were fucking, her cheeks reddening from further humiliation.

He smiled and grazed her pussy with the palm of his hand and then slowly pulled back. She thrust upwards, straining to touch the hand that could give her what she wanted, what she needed, but he held it just out of reach of her swollen flesh.

"Ok then," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath nearly causing her to swoon. "But there's going to be clamps for now and more ropes for later." He slapped a tit and got up. "You're in for a long night. Anything means anything." He got up and went to the dresser, rummaging through the bottom drawer, the drawer that meant only one thing to her - pain. He returned with the heavy nipple clamps, rubber tipped and spring-tight. He gently rubbed the hard nub of her right breast and she braced herself for the hurt. She closed her eyes and felt it, searing pain that did nothing to help the fire between her legs. Her nipples were always sensitive, a fact he genuinely loved. She sucked breath through her nose and then screamed. The second nipple followed and when he climbed off the bed, tears pooled on the sheet beneath her head and her breasts throbbed in agony.

She saw him walk to the door through half-lidded eyes and she whimpered. Was he leaving? Hadn't he understood??? She'd made her decision, he was going to let her come! Why was he leaving???

"I'll be back," he said. "I won't be too long. Promise." Off went the lights, plunging her into darkness again. She closed her eyes and cried.

THREE

I left her, my beautiful, bound and gagged, struggling and frustrated wife. And went back out to watch a little more of the ballgame. It was just more pressure adding to the little pressure cooker that was in her head, throbbing through her body, tensing her muscles, fueling her tears. I knew her so well, knew where she was at, how frustrated, how wet and horny. How totally mine.

I turned the sound off on the game so I could listen for her sounds, her beautiful sounds through the cracked bedroom door. She was mewling, the best word I could come up with - sort of a crying, panting, pleading sound. I heard the sheets rustle every few moments as she thrashed a little, as much as she could in her ropes. And then silence, broken only by soft, gentle sobs. I was rock hard. I loved when she cried for me, when she endured the pain and torment for me, when there was nothing or no one who could save her but me. When she surrendered and we became one, one in a dance of two, one in pain and sexual misery, one in control.

I'd met her at a party. It was a friend of a friend of a friend and it was getting late and people were drifting off. I'd come alone, needing to blow off some steam and had headed down to the basement for another beer. I'd found her on the couch, under a blanket, tied and gagged and waiting for her ex-boyfriend to come down and play with her. I didn't know her from Adam, but I did know her ex and I knew he'd left the party earlier with another girl on his arm. I'd ungagged Julia - her name, as I found out later - and listened to her sad story of seeking a reprieve in a relationship gone cold, agreeing to cater to her ex's bondage fetish one last time to see if there was a spark left to start a new fire, and then crushingly realizing that she'd been duped, left alone and helpless and open for humiliation when found. Utter, senseless cruelty. But I was her knight in shining armor. And she let me rescue her, still bound, let me take her away, let me explore her over the following months as we found the dark kinky place we both needed. Less than a year later, we were married. And she became my 24/7 slave.

The music from the bedroom had turned in to a steady, frustrated sounding hum, broken only by the occasional hiccupped sob. I got up. It was time. The light blinded her and I stood in the doorway admiring my lovely captive wife. I knew she felt vulnerable, spread and exposed as she was. Good girls didn't let themselves get tied up in a position that let them be fucked, early and often. Good girls didn't wind up with clamps on their nipples and their panties taped deep in their mouths. Good girls didn't get off on being called cunt, or being whipped, or crying and begging to come. My wife, my slave, wasn't a good girl. And for that, I would continue to punish her.

Her green eyes were round saucers as she looked at me above the packing in her mouth. Her blonde hair was plastered to her sweaty forehead and her body was just as I'd left her, of course. I walked to the side of the bed and sat, staring down at her, drinking her pain. The bed trembled with her body, muscles taut from the strain of hours being tied. She'd made her decision, though - she'd do anything to come - so she'd been tied a little while longer.

I casually flicked one of the clamps on her nipples, eyes never leaving hers and her expression as the pain raced through her melted me. She wasn't just flesh for me to torment, to hurt - she was my girl, tied in my ropes, made to suffer, just on the edge of explosive relief, held back by me. At this moment, this precise slice of time, I was her world. A flick of my finger and she screamed behind her gag. A probing finger deep inside her wet puss arched her back and made her groan. A slap to her inner thigh and her crying intensified. She was mine to play and I loved her.

I crawled up onto the bed so I could lay beside her, pressing my chest against her and sliding my leg over her tied froglegs so my knee was nestled against her quivering mons. "Are you ready to come, cunt?" I knew the word was power, a filthy dirty word that sent her to the place she craved and when she nodded her head behind a soft sigh, I knew she was there. She was beyond ready. But I needed more from her, so much more, before I would push her over the cliff and into free-fall.

I started to work the electrical tape off her gag and she raised her head to help, moaning from the pain in her arms and shoulders that had been tied for too long underneath her. When the tape was a mangled ball on the floor with the folds of wrap beside it, topped with a soaking wad of her panties, I found her lips, still crushed from the severity of her gag and took her mouth, hard, my tongue claiming her. She moaned and I sucked her breath in greedily, savoring her helplessness.

I pulled back and whispered, "What do you say, cunt?"

Her voice was soft, weak and sexy as fuck. "Thank you, master." She looked up into my face, green eyes hazy. "Please ... please, may I come?"

I kissed her again, and slapped a bound breast, drinking in the sharp cry. "Do you think you've earned it, cunt?"

She didn't answer at first - she knew it was a trick question and from experience, knew the wrong answer would make me leave her again, to contemplate in frustration, alone, tied and hurting. "No, master. I'm just a ... cunt - " Her eyes opened wide at her slight mistake and the smack to her thighs made it clear. "Your cunt - I'm your cunt. And I don't deserve to come."

I smiled, tracing a finger along cooled breast flesh, watching her hold back a cry as it got close to the clamped nipple. I knew the agony she was in from those clamps - her nipples were sensitive little buds to be tortured. "Very good, cunt. You've been a very good little cunt." I nudged the nipple clamp and she stiffened, eyes glazing, back arching. "I think I'll grant your wish and let you come."

I crawled on top of my bound slave and nudged my rock hard cock against the slippery wet flesh, the key to her world ready to unlock the door to excruciating pleasure. She stared at me, begging me, greedily raising her hips as much as the ropes would let her, offering herself up to me. Surrendering, again.

I slipped in gently, closing my eyes and feeling her engulf me, take me, clench me, complete me and slowly, not wanting her to come so soon, slowly fucked her. I lay on top of her, feeling the nipple clamps stick into my chest as they dug into her already tender bound flesh, and my mouth captured the sing-song sound of her impending orgasm.

She moaned and panted and I thrust harder, going deeper, needing to feel all of her. My mouth found her neck and bit and she ground her pained breasts against me, the pain now good, needed, desired. Her hips matched mine and the pounding was one beautifully fluid exchange, me driving into her, taking her, and she accepting, always accepting. I grunted with every thrust and she whimpered and moaned and I felt her body jerk with the intense, almost brutal shared need to embrace each other as we plummeted over the cliff. We were getting close, me fighting to keep my eyes open to drink her in, the haze of her eyes, the lines of her chin, the dimple under her swollen lips, and when I knew the cliff was right at our feet and it was time to go over, I drove into her one last time and ripped the nipple clamps from her breasts.

Her body stiffened, back arched, impaled pussy clenched and then she did scream. I fell on her, my orgasm filling her, my lips finding hers, needing her scream in my mouth, needing to inhale her pain, her pleasure, all of her. She bucked and twisted under me, bound and captured and coming, my God, she was coming, and I rode her as wave after wave shook her body.

I rolled over and lay beside her for just a moment. Little tremors still rippled through her and when I nudged her chin, she turned her head and kissed me, softly. Nothing like the frantic intensity of a moment before, now just a warm afterglow. I pulled away and whispered, "I love you Julia."

She sighed and smiled, her eyes tired but clear and sharp and satisfied. "I love you too."

I reached around and found the safety scissors on the bed stand and then quickly cut her loose. She moaned and sighed as her body was once more given back to her, so long after she'd surrendered it to me. And as we lay snuggled together, one for now, for eternity, I kissed the top of her head and felt her drift off to sleep. I followed, the black taking me, happy, satisfied, complete.