Life Imitates Art

I hope everyone will enjoy my second submission to Literotica! Just a fair warning, this story will deal with some dubcon and noncon elements. Don't say I didn't warn you! ;)

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At the sound of footsteps, I hurriedly snapped my laptop shut and pulled my fingers from my sodden pussy. My husband and sometimes Master walked into the room, looking suspicious at my flurry of movements.

"Whatcha writing?"

His words were casual, but his eyes were sharp on me.

"N-Nothing, baby. Just working on a paper."

I laughed nervously. His eyes narrowed. He knew me far too well to be taken in by my poorly-constructed lie.

"Show me." I pursed my lips, stalling for time and hoping desperately for a distraction. As the seconds ticked by, and no plane crashed through the ceiling, I realised that I would have to distract him myself, the best way I knew how.

"Wouldn't you rather see something else?" I asked suggestively, one hand trailing up my body and gripping my breast. He chewed his lip, contemplatively. I let out a (slightly dramatised) moan, and, finally, he moved towards me, eyes dark with lust.

I barely had time to shove my laptop under a pillow before he was dragging me towards him, devouring me with his hands and eyes and lips.

The next morning, I shuffled out to the kitchen, muscles sore, and pussy doubly so. Lucas was well-endowed, and he loved nothing more than slamming into me until I collapsed, limbs shaking with the force of my orgasms. I fixed myself a coffee, a slight smile playing on my lips as I attempted to flatten my riotous hair. The bedroom door swung open, and Lucas came out, an inscrutable expression on his face. A pang of worry shot through me.

"I saw what you wrote..." The worry turned to full-fledged panic. "Were you writing porn... about fucking my friends?" I straightened, chewing my lip, forehead crinkled.

"I'm sorry!" I wailed. "It was just a fantasy, I would never ever act on it, I love you, I just thought it would be a hot story, I'm sorry, I'll delete it." Shame-faced, I headed towards the bedroom to do exactly that, only to be stopped by a muscled arm across the doorway.

"No."

He said, simply. Timidly, I looked up at him. His face was carefully neutral, but his eyes burned with something I couldn't decipher.

That was the last we said about it, but whenever Lucas heard my fingers on the keyboard, he would look at me, searchingly. I gave up on my story. It was a stupid fantasy, and sick, and I resolved to stop thinking about it.

Except I couldn't. I only had to shut my eyes, and I saw myself tied, spread-eagle, to a table, clothes ripped off while he and his friends leered at my sopping pussy. My cunt throbbed any time one of his friends came over, and I would often have to excuse myself.

I would invariably head to the bathroom, to stuff my fingers into my dripping slit, grinding against my knuckles and biting down hard on my lip as I silently convulsed.

The thought was never far away, and it made going to their parties very difficult. I would sit there, soaking through my panties, chatting and laughing along with the group, imagining myself covered in ropes of their cum.

Needless to say, I voiced none of this, and my guilt grew by the day.

I expressed my frustration and guilt by becoming even more demanding in bed. Poor Lucas was drained dry by a constant barrage of licking, sucking, begging, fucking, riding. I could tell he was bewildered by the change, but, like any man in his position, he rose to the occasion with aplomb.

One night, tired of my grabbing hands and hungry mouth, he tied me down, skillfully weaving a web of knots along my body, encircling my tits and grating against my pussy.

"I'm going to make you orgasm until you never want to again." He declared, and proceeded to do exactly that, fingers roaming over me expertly. He knew every inch of me, and demonstrated that knowledge ruthlessly, pushing me past the brink over and over as my eyes glazed. He rested his fingers on my clit, rubbing in small circles, and I whimpered and lurched, chest heaving against the coarse rope bonds. He looked up at me, eyes molten, and commanded,

"Tell me what you want."

In a voice made husky with constant moaning, I replied,

"I want you sir, please fuck me, please please please."

Wrong answer. He slammed three of his thick fingers in me as I howled, and then twisted them viciously until they pushed against my G-spot. I drooled and writhed with overstimulation, ropes cutting into my skin as I thrashed.

"Tell me what you want."

"Please sir I want your cum please please just use me, just fuck me." I panted out, mouth dry and tongue clumsy.

This time, after thoroughly coating his other hand with my cum, he shoved two fingers into my asshole as I squealed with pain and a reluctant jolt of pleasure. He knew I wasn't a fan of anal, and he smiled with grim satisfaction as I bucked beneath him.

"I am going to ask you one more time before I fuck you in the ass dry. What. Do. You. Want."

I shook my head, bewildered, as he untied me hastily and flipped me over. I struggled as his cock head bumped against my soaking pussy, before travelling to my hermetically shut asshole, but he held me down and growled in my ear.

"Just tell me want you want, you filthy fucking slut. Don't make me rape your tight little ass."

By this point I was less than an animal, jerking and moaning incomprehensibly. He shrugged, and began shoving his dick mercilessly into my ass, centimeter by centimeter. I bit a pillow and sobbed in pain as his cock head popped in, heat and agony washing like waves through me as my asshole struggled to close against the invader.

"You get one more chance before I bottom my cock out in you. What do you want? Why have you been such a cock-hungry little whore?"

I moaned and shook my head, comprehension slowly dawning, my face still buried in the pillow. With a sigh of disappointment that almost sounded convincing, Lucas grabbed my hips, and, like a machine, fed inch after inch into my protesting ass as I wept and shook. After what felt like eons, he came to a stop, his balls resting against my pussy, which was steadily dripping onto the bed.

I huffed out a breath, the harsh exhale turning into a shriek as he began to saw back and forth in my battered asshole. I cracked, and screamed, my words jagged as he thrust into me,

"I wa-want to fuck y-you- and your friends a-and- I want you to deh-degrade me and use me and treat me li-like a whoreee- please sir please no more I'M SORRY!"

My voice rose to a wail on the last word, and he stilled completely. The silence fell, and I couldn't help my relieved sigh as he pulled his dick from my poor, stretched anus with an audible pop. I turned my head slightly to look at him, and hazily wondered at the calculating look that crossed his face.

He stroked my ass and my trembling legs, told me what a good girl I was, and that he was sorry he had to punish me. I said nothing, and he got up to run me a shower, leaving me shivering on the bed, humiliated and pained and, frustratingly, still aroused. He helped me to the shower, and I stood in the hot spray, being kept upright by his strong arms wrapped around my midsection as he gently washed the sweat, tears, and cum from my body.

I could feel his cock pressing against my thigh, harder than I'd ever felt it. He propped me against the wall, and slid his cock into my clenching pussy, thrusting hard enough to bruise. I tried to push back against him, pussy still hungry for him, but my body refused to obey. I sagged in his arms, vision blurring as I convulsed around his cock, and he came, hard, his cum splashing against my walls, heating me from within.

I wanted to protest, knowing that I was ovulating, and he was being careless, but I couldn't form words, nor could I bring myself to care, relishing his warmth as he filled and encircled me. I would pick up an emergency contraceptive in the morning, I decided, my thoughts trailing into nothingness as my exhaustion caught up with me.

I barely noticed as he picked me up, dried me off, being especially careful with my pussy and asshole, and carried me to bed to sleep off my orgasms. Occasionally, my eyes would drift open, and always he was staring at me, as he often did.

He would reach out a hand to stroke my hair or trace down my side, and I would fall back asleep, safe under his gaze. The next morning, when I woke up, I wobbled out to the living room, my gait unnatural from the pain in my asshole.

Lucas was waiting for me, eyes attentive. I fidgeted with my fingers, and refused to meet his eyes, sitting down carefully with a barely restrained groan.

"Um... What I said last night..." I trailed off as he looked at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry. I know that it's wrong, and I wouldn't ever do anything, and our sex is perfect just as it is, it's just a stupid fantasy, and I love you, and I, I didn't want to, to upset you, I'm so sor-"

He cut off my babbling with a hand to my mouth, and laughed lightly, fingers grazing my cheek affectionately.

"Don't worry about it, love. I know it's just a fantasy. I know you would never cheat."

I nodded gratefully, and went to make breakfast, carding my fingers through his hair lovingly, believing that to be the last of it. He lumbered over at the clatter of ingredients as I scowled down at labels.

"Whatcha making, gorgeous?" he rumbled, morning breath fluttering my hair.

"I'm kind of winging it." I admitted, shrugging with a helpless grin. He sighed and took over, which was my plan from the beginning, while I helpfully swatted his ass with a spatula whenever he got in arm's reach. The day was spent lazily, and we didn't leave the house, choosing instead to spend our hours pressed against one another.

The days slipped by like this, and it was a month before my screamed confession came back to haunt me.

I awoke to a box at the foot of the bed, presumably left by Lucas as he headed to work. I opened it tentatively to find a red corset, trimmed in black lace, with black buttons trailing up the silken fabric.

Underneath was a barely-there pair of black panties, a garter belt, and thigh high stockings. I tried them on, marveling at the silkiness and fit of each piece, and when I turned to look at myself in the mirror, my jaw almost dropped.

My gentle curves had morphed into dizzying dips swathed in scarlet, my long, pale legs those of a porn star, obscene, the black silk making them a screaming contrast impossible to look away from, and... my tits. Ordinarily a good handful, they were monstrous, pushed up as they were by the corset. The panties were scarcely more than a scrap of lace, and so, when I turned, my ass was on display, the pale flesh highlighted by the black above and below it.

I looked more beautiful than I did on my wedding day, and immediately sent Lucas a picture, with a gushing, soppy thank you note. He responded back with a simple,

"You're wearing that tonight, young lady." My eyebrows raised. Lucas rarely took his role as Master seriously, but when he did, he would call me "young lady" to warn me to act accordingly. It always seemed to have the unfortunate effect of making me more incorrigible, which I think is why he still said it. I read the text again and felt my insides squirm with excitement.

As I had the day off, I spent a few more minutes admiring my new outfit, pouting and pulling faces in the mirror, laughing, even as I stared. I then carefully shucked off each piece, laying them reverently in their box as I transformed back into myself. With the promise of a mind-blowing night lingering in my head, I passed the hours by making myself a perfect fuck doll for Lucas.

I showered and scrubbed, shaving myself bare. I gave myself an enema, tidied the house, laid out a few of our choice sex toys, and readied the ropes we kept near our bed.

When four o'clock ticked around, I began to get ready, playing with my smooth, soft pussy as I stared at the outfit waiting for me. I edged myself a few times, barely managing to restrain my fingers, wanting to be dripping wet and desperate for Lucas when he came home. I dressed carefully, enjoying the slide of silk against my moisturised body, and applied makeup, reddening my lips and darkening my eyes.

My curly chestnut hair I tied in a severe ponytail, accentuating my high cheekbones and highlighting my excited grey eyes. I shivered as the long strands tickled my back.

I took a few more pictures, this time to keep for myself, as I stared. I wasn't a vain woman by any means, but this outfit took me from passably pretty to a fertile, sex-hungry goddess. My eyes were smoky and dark with lust, my thick thighs looked wicked and tempting, and every area I was self-conscious about disappeared as I held my head high.

I heard the door unlock, and I hastily slipped on my rarely-used collar, a black leather affair with a thick silver ring, and a pair of black stilettos that put my five foot nine frame well over six feet. I sank to my knees by the door in classic submissive pose- head high, eyes downcast, with tits well displayed. The door opened, and multiple feet clattered in.