Unpredictable

As she drove home from work her mind whirled with the possibilities. It was Friday night and she knew their teenaged daughter was out of the house spending the night with a friend. She would already be gone. Nights like these were notoriously...unpredictable. The evening could hold many things. He might want to lie around eating take out and watching movies, he could read one of his graphic novels that he seems to love, they might throw on some jeans and go out to dinner; and any or all of these could be followed by sweet love making. The kind where he gently caressed her face, kissed her softly, and stroked her skin like she was made of glass. But he could be so very unpredictable.

Sometime, mostly when the house was empty but for the two of them, his hunger and lust grew restless and needed to be satisfied in other ways. She shivered a bit with the thought. It was far from cold but it didn't matter, when she thought of how he could be on these nights it didn't have to be cold for her to get goose bumps and shiver. Would he be waiting at the door to attack as soon as she was safely inside and out of sight? Would it be one of "those" nights? Or maybe he would get her inside, get her undressed and start to relax a bit; you know, give her a false sense of security before it happened.

Nights like these she never knew when or what might happen...just when she let her guard down he could pounce on her. Then he might throw her on the bed, face down and hold her there with a hand buried firmly in her long curly hair. How he loved to use it to control her. With the other hand he might squeeze her ass, or put his hand in her pants while he pushed her legs apart with one knee so he could play with her pussy. Or he might use his unoccupied hand to spank her ass while she squirmed under him knowing there was really very little she could do.

She could try to fight but she knew that only turned him on more. Still sometimes she couldn't help herself and she struggled. He would only hold her head more firmly, give her hair a good yank; it's hard to fight effectively with your head pinned down after all. Then he would expertly remove her pants one handed, and fighting him only seemed to make it easier for him to get them off. At this point he'd "help her up" so he could get her shirt off and next would come the leather wrist restraints. She might resist but his strength was far superior and she was really only wasting energy that she would need later.

Eventually she would find herself tied firmly to the bed but usually only by her arms. He liked her legs free so that he could open, close, bend, or straighten them when the mood struck. And her body itself, such a traitor it is, at this point she would be flushed with lust and her pussy would be wet with her desire no matter how hard she might have fought him. It didn't matter because her traitorous body always told him the truth. She wanted, no needed, what he did to her on these unpredictable nights. She craved him with her body and soul...and it was obvious.

Now that she was tied and helpless the fun could really begin. Again the uncertainty; the possibilities were endless, would he blindfold her or force her to look into his eyes while he used her body for his pleasure? Would he take out the floggers and beat her, daring her to close her legs without permission? Or maybe he would put the rubber bands on her nipples; that wasn't so bad...at first, but the longer they were on the more sensitive her nipples became. He would use that, sucking, biting, and pinching them until it became unbearable. Only then would he remove them. That was its own little torture; talk about adding insult to injury.

Maybe after a little pain he would get out the toys and drive her a little more insane. The Blue Devil was one of his favorites with its wicked curve it would make her writhe and moan and beg for mercy or relief. But oh no, not yet, it was much too early for that, he would surely have more in store for her. He would just be getting started good.

Maybe now he would put on the gloves, which would surely cause her to flinch because she knew what that usually meant. The lube would be next, rubbed onto her asshole, a finger slipped inside, a hint of what was to come. All the while her pussy saying what she could not, telling him all that he needed to know. Then he might use fingers, maybe the beaded toy but most likely, eventually the glass plug would be firmly in place. She would be unable to push that out even if she did want to. He'd turn his attention to other things again then. She was in deep now, her pussy would be throbbing; part of her craving release but part of her wanted to go on to see how far he would take her this time. Maybe hot candle wax dripped on sensitive parts making her scream with pleasure and pain. Maybe some confusion; one of those times he'd beat her and rub her clit with a vibrator at the same time, forever linking pain and pleasure in her already mis-wired brain. Unpredictable, yes these nights were nothing if not that.

Most likely he would eventually penetrate her pussy with the huge rubber cock filling both holes so tightly that she feels she might burst. The stretching sensation is intense and when he starts to fuck her with the dildo she think she just might die. The pleasure, the pain, the intensity is just so much to take and he knows...he knows exactly what he is doing to her body and her mind. He knows that with every stroke he ruins her for all others. No other will ever know her body the way he does. No other will ever be able to coax her body to feel pleasure from pain and to beg for both. He smiles to himself because he knows she is his and only his.

When finally she begs for release he will let her hold a vibrator; he'll release one hand so that she can come for him. Not once, no, one is never enough; he requires more. Sometimes he makes her come until she trembles and tears roll down her cheeks; until she is completely broken before him. Then and only then will he finish with her.

Unpredictable, he may take the dildo out of her pussy and fuck her with the plug still firmly in her ass. Oh, he loves how she writhes and fights in this scenario. Or, he might feel particularly wicked and force her to say the words, to ask for what she often longs for but is too ashamed to talk about. "What do you want;" he'll ask and she'll try to avoid answering, "whatever you want." "No, tell me what you want!" This might go on for a moment but she will give in, she always does because her body betrays her, it makes her tell him what she desires, needs, and dreads all at once. "Please..." she will say, "Please what?" he'll ask. "You know." "Tell me what you want." "Please, fuck my ass." Then he'll grin at her and say "Good girl," position her and give her what she has asked for, what he made her ask for, until he comes grunting deep into her ass while she lays there in bliss and shame.

She's driving into the driveway, getting out of the car. He's waiting inside for her and they are alone. It is one of those unpredictable nights. She picks up her bag and smiles to herself because she knows that no matter how unpredictable it might be they will both be completely sated when this night is done.