It was many months since Rob had taken his wife Yvonne to their friend Tony, for those horrible sadism sessions previously described.
Now, as he knelt astride her head and fucked her mouth, he began to tell her of his latest plans which involved a guy he’d met on the Internet.
Yvonne, gagging and choking as her husband forced his large, lusting cock right to the back of her mouth, couldn’t speak. She shuddered at the thought of the appalling treatment that she’d suffered on those earlier occasions with Tony, and yet, at the same time, she felt a thrill of perverted sexual lust tingle through her body as her husband talked of loaning her to this new man.
It all sounded so perversely immoral and wrong for her husband to arrange such a thing. So wrong for him to let another man fuck and abuse her. So wrong that her husband, who she knew loved her dearly, should give her to another man for the purpose of her being hurt and tortured.
In spite of all of these thoughts, Yvonne became more and more excited as her husband fucked and used her while telling her what this new guy, Peter, might do to her.
Soon, her lust having overtaken her common sense, Yvonne was enthusiastically agreeing to everything that her husband suggested.
Rob had been so completely confident in his wife’s taste for this sort of kinky perversion, that he had arranged for Peter to be waiting on the Internet ready and waiting to snare Yvonne into their scheme. Yvonne was informed of this, and she excitedly sat down at the desk and, using her own private email address, she typed the brief message that her husband dictated to her.
Having sent off the message, her husband made Yvonne stand, leaning over the desk with legs parted, while he fucked her doggie style.
With her forearms on the desk and her small breasts squashing against the desktop, Yvonne lifted her head to re-read the lines she had typed to this unknown man who wanted to abuse her. She was staring at the screen, rocking her body back and forth onto her husband’s cock as he fucked her. Her feelings becoming more and more lustful, partially from the wonderful sensations of her husband’s cock deep within her body, and partially from this new perverted scheme that her husband had proposed.
She was still staring at the computer screen and lustfully fucking, when the computer gave a ‘ding’, indicating an email received.
She excitedly saw that it was from Peter, and her lust stepped up a level when she read the title of the email… “You little whore.”
Yvonne took the mouse and manipulated it as Rob continued fucking her from behind. She gasped and then giggled as she read the content. Peter had addressed her as a ‘whore’ and a ‘stupid fucking cunt’.
Most other women would be turned off by such an initial approach, but, knowing his wife’s sexually perverted nature, Rob had instructed Peter how to write.
Yvonne, exactly as her husband had told Peter, was in fact excited and led on by being treated in that way.
Loving husband and wife, still fucking, both leaned forward to read Peter’s words of how he would like to give Yvonne a session with a variety of whips, riding crops, canes, etc, before giving her the ultimate thrashing with an old, heavy belt, an inch and a half wide with brass studs dotted along it’s length.
He went on to describe how he would thrash her, leaving her body bruised, marked, and swollen.
Peter had argued with Rob about taking such a direct approach. Peter was sure that Yvonne would surely be scared off by such descriptions of how she might be used, but Rob had assured him that it was the right way to go.
It certainly was a fact that Yvonne would be scared. Rob knew that she would argue and make a show of resistance, but he knew that it would be just that – only a show.
To family and friends, Yvonne was a sweet wife and a mother. No one could ever suspect the truth. Her husband had found her out though – he knew just how sexually excited and out of control she could become under the right sort of stimulation.
As if to prove this point about her character, Yvonne now began to lamely argue that it wasn’t right.
They were still looking at the email, re-reading it for the fourth or fifth time, when a ‘ding’ announced another email.
With trembling hands Yvonne opened the new email and read more of Peter’s words which continued on in the same vein.
Once more she was called a ‘stupid fucking cunt’ and was told how he would like to hurt her really badly. He mentioned whipping her breasts and thrashing her body all over.
Again, even though disturbed at what she read, Yvonne felt her throat going dry and her body tingling lustfully at the thought of her husband giving her to this man to be used in such a way. She, with some pretence of being a normal, decent woman, protested to her husband that it was all too cruel and completely wrong.
Rob, being familiar with his wife’s perverted sexual tastes, ignored her protests and excitedly told her to email back and to lead Peter on. He then grinned to himself in noticing that his wife didn’t even so much as pause in clicking the reply button – “she gave up easily that time,” he thought to himself with satisfaction.
“Hello my darling,” Yvonne wrote to her husband’s dictation. “Your message scares but excites me.”
A few more sexy lines were added before Yvonne signed off with love and kisses.
They waited in excited anticipation, kissing, touching, licking, fucking until they thrilled to the computer’s signal of a further email.
Peter had written of how Rob had told every detail about his wife. Peter talked more of how he would love to hurt her, and he finished by asking Yvonne directly… “you really do enjoy being hurt don’t you?”
Again, trembling all over, Yvonne clicked the reply button.
“Darling,” she started off, but then paused, unsure of what to type.
“Yes, I do like to be hurt,” Rob suggested to her when he saw her pause.
Yvonne’s fingers fumbled over the keys, typing those very words.
“Your whips and the studded leather belt sounds wonderfully cruel,” Rob continued dictating.
Yvonne blindly followed and typed the words.
A couple more lines and she signed off with love and… “yours to use and abuse.”
“Oh darling! I can’t send something like that!’ Yvonne then gasped in trembling tones as the computer cursor hovered above the ‘send’ button.
“You can. You love being a slut and a whore,” her husband excitedly and lustfully urged.
Yvonne’s hand trembled. Her husband urged her further. She clicked the mouse button. The computer screen changed … Your message has been sent to…
Rob and Peter now swapped a series of short emails while Yvonne, crawling under the desk, pushed her husband’s legs apart and took his solid, rock-hard, lusting cock in her soft hands and lowered her mouth over the head, sucking lovingly and slowly lowering her mouth right down over the pulsing shaft.
The content of the emails were read out to Yvonne as she crouched under the desk sucking and working on her husband’s cum dribbling cock.
Yvonne was spoken of purely as a commodity to be used by Peter. He, in turn, continued expressing his desire to severely hurt her.
Rob, for his part, became more and more excited and gave his every encouragement and consent to everything that Peter suggested.
Yvonne’s lust was surging through her body as she sucked and licked and loved her husband’s cock, and as her own hand mauled, fingered, and rubbed frantically at her wet, slippery pussy.
It was soon agreed that Yvonne would be delivered to Peter the next afternoon and that she should be left with him, to be tortured and abused, until her husband returned to collect her.
The next sixteen hours of waiting saw Yvonne constantly oscillating between lustful enthusiasm, fear and terror, sluttish feelings, guilt and shame. As the time drew near however, she showered, dressed in her sexiest, most delicate underwear, took especial care with her makeup, and generally felt so sexually excited even through her moments of fear.
“Fuck!” her husband kept exclaiming, “this is going to be fucking fantastic! I’ll be all of the time thinking about how Peter is using you.”
As had been the case when she’d been taken for her previous S & M sessions, Yvonne began to think that it wasn’t too late, she could still avert it if she wanted to. Even as they reached the house that had been given in the directions, she considered that she could still stop this from happening to her.
All of those thoughts of still being in control of her fate, and yet keeping on ahead, only served to stimulate Yvonne’s bizarre sexual appetite even further, so that there was never ever any really serious thought of not going through with this terrible thing that was planned for her.
They stood on the pavement, gazing in at the house, each lost in their own thoughts. They were both a little frightened at the possibilities of what might happen, but they both lusted at the bizarre perversion of what they were doing.
“Ready,” Rob asked his wife.
“Yes, ‘ she murmured in reply.
It was a quite ordinary looking house – brick and tile, nicely kept with a bushy garden, certainly nothing about it gave any hint of what terrible things might go on within it’s walls. Did it hold dark secrets of torture chambers with cruel machines and devices. Yvonne was literally trembling as her husband led her to the front door. She was shaking and had to be helped up the steps.
A big man answered Rob’s knock on the door – no one could ever suspect that he was such a cruel sadist.
Yvonne was blushing profusely, consumed by the shame and embarrassment of wantonly entering on this arrangement.
Peter was absolutely gloating over her. Looking at her lovely face, her small but very desirable body, her small but adequate tits bulging under her tight top. He must have, even at this late stage, not believed his luck as he again wanted confirmation from Rob that he was happy for his wife to be abused and hurt.
Yvonne felt totally belittled as she heard her husband assuring Peter that she could be used in any way he wanted.
They shook hands in a friendly manner and Rob jokingly said, “don’t look after my wife while I’m gone.”
Peter laughed in turn and replied that he certainly wouldn’t, then added in a cruel voice while looking at her gloatingly, “I’m going to give her absolute fucking hell.”
Yvonne watched in silence as her husband once again shook hands with Peter and then walked away, leaving her to be led inside the house.
Her husband had arranged it in this way, that he should simply hand his wife over to this guy and leave her with him. He loved his wife very much, and it seemed to him to treat her in this seemingly careless way, was the ultimate degradation.
Once in the house Yvonne’s fears were temporarily allayed as Peter told her how pretty she was and as he began kissing her tenderly.
Yvonne in turn kissed back lovingly as Peter began to undress and fondle her body.
This show of tenderness lasted only briefly, and Yvonne’s illusions were shattered when she was led into the bedroom and was told that she would be beaten insensible.
Yvonne noted that the bedroom, far from being a chamber of horrors, was neat and tastefully decorated – the only give away of what deviancy that might take place there, was the coiled cord, leather shackles, and leather whips that were piled on the end of the bed.
Yvonne climbed onto the bed, taking up the position that Peter directed, lying on her back with her legs spread apart and her arms stretched wide and above her head. She made no complaint nor offered any resistance as Peter securely bound her wrists and ankles and restrained her in this totally vulnerable position.
Peter then began to show her the many whips and lashes that he had in readiness for her – a long, thin, woven leather whip, a shorter, flat leather whip on a handle the shape of a cock which could be used as a dildo to fuck her with in between whippings. A short flogger consisting of twelve thin strips of leather attached to a handle. A fibre glass riding crop with a three inch fold of leather at the whip end, and indeed many other cruel and spiteful items with which to beat her with.
Now, as Peter selected a whip which was not dissimilar to the shape of a fly swatter, other than that it was larger and made of leather, Yvonne cringed and whimpered in fear as she watched him draw back his arm and take aim.
Swish, the whip sounded as it came speeding in a wide arc and thrashed across Yvonne’s stomach.
“Argggg,” she yelled as the vicious little whip filled her belly with a searing pain.
She had hardly recovered her breath when the whip again struck her, this time across the top of one thigh.
“Owwww!” she yelled and twisted and struggled as much as her bonds would allow, as the pain and shock raced through her body.
She was gasping and cringing as she watched Peter again preparing to strike her.
Whack! This time right across the top of her other thigh. Then another just above the knee.
Peter had put plenty of effort into each blow, and as his blows made their way back up Yvonne’s body to her breasts she was panting and gasping, and shrieking in agony and terror as the vicious blows built up the pain in her body.
“Fuck! you sound fabulous,” Peter grinned as he listened to Yvonne’s shrieks which became more and more frantic and agonised.
“Oh my God! That’s enough! That’s enough!” Yvonne half gasped, half sobbed with tears in her eyes.
Peter laughed spitefully. “No way my girl,” he said cruelly, “I’m really going to make a fucking mess of you before I’m through.”
To demonstrate his point he next took up the long, thin, leather whip and taking aim, he continued flogging her naked body with rapid lashes.
Yvonne was screeching and howling in awful, agonising pain. Her eyes, with the tears now streaming forth, had a look of terror as she realised just what she had let herself in for.
The woven leather of the whip bit at her skin and left fiery red stripes where it struck her. The very thinness of the lash causing all of the force to be concentrated along the line of impact so that lines of glowing red swelling, with many small abrasions along the length, were left all over her body.
During this whipping, the room was filled with the sounds of the whip cutting through the air, terminating in the sound of leather thrashing into human flesh, then immediately drowned out by Yvonne’s tortured screams of horrible, ghastly pain – each scream then slowly replaced by the pathetic and despairing, shuddering sobs and whimpers of the tortured victim.
After some fifty or so strokes, Yvonne had been reduced to an inhuman blubbering wreck, her body now red and battered, and becoming ever more swollen beneath the raised red marks and abrasions that covered her entire body.
Peter was puffing and panting from the continual effort that he’d been putting into beating his victim. He now paused and admired his work on Yvonne. She had looked so pretty and lovely when he had first started off. Now her eyes were swollen from crying, her face was tear stained, her hair was dishevelled from her threshing about as he had flogged her body, and her lovely, soft body was becoming beautifully damaged.
He stood looking and regaining his breath. Yvonne was still sobbing in her abject misery. Peter’s gaze was attracted to Yvonne’s small breasts with their large nipples. He had landed several blows across her breasts, and he now considered that it would be fun to concentrate on them and beat them to a pulp.
During this momentary interval, Yvonne had regained a little composure even though she continued sobbing pathetically. One would expect any other woman to plead for her release, but in fact Yvonne made no such plea, no complaint at all, and had simply waited for Peter’s next onslaught on her body. Her pleas for mercy during the beating were automatic responses to self preservation, but in between, Yvonne accepted that it was her role to be nothing more than something to be used in this way.
Peter, after surveying his selection of whips, this time took up a cruel, multi-stranded flogger and took deliberate aim right across Yvonne’s chest. The flogger thrashed down, the many leather strands splaying out so that they thrashed over a wide area of the soft, white flesh of Yvonne’s breasts. She gave an awful howling wail and threshed about in an effort to break free. Peter liked this and began flogging Yvonne’s tits from different angles, watching the many leather strands impacting into the flesh as they struck with force.
Thirty or forty blows had Yvonne screaming with the unbearable pain that filled her body. Her tits were battered, swollen, and covered in terrible red abrasions.
Peter once more surveyed his work and considered that Yvonne’s arms and legs were, as yet, relatively unscathed. He immediately set to work with a flat leather belt to rectify this situation, systematically belting all the way up the arms from Yvonne’s bound wrists, right up to her shoulders, and landing plenty of vicious blows right into the armpits.
Once both arms were red and battered, he then took the riding crop and turned his attention to Yvonne’s legs, beating them cruelly from all different directions and angles, and paying particular attention to the back of her knees and right up in her oh so tender groin.
Peter loved the frantic, uncontrolable screaming and howling that Yvonne made in her agony. She was beginning to go a little hoarse from all of this screaming, but, to Peter, it just lent a sexiness to her voice when she intermittently pleaded with him to stop.
Peter realised that he too was becoming a bit dry in the throat after all of his work on Yvonne. He glanced at his watch and realised that he had been working on this slut for almost two hours. He realised that he was both hungry and thirsty so he left Yvonne sobbing in her pain and misery, and went off for a brief moment to get himself a drink.
Yvonne lay there and eventually stopped sobbing and began to regain some sanity. She raised her head as much as she could, and looked down over her swollen, lacerated body, her damaged breasts, and her beaten arms and legs.
She considered how stupid she was to allow herself to be used for this sort of thing, and yet, at the same time she was filled with satisfaction that she drove men to use her in this way. Her body was so very sore, she ached all over, and she felt dazed and groggy. In spite of this she still felt a sexual satisfaction in her pain.
Yvonne drifted into a sort of reverie. She was suddenly aroused by the sound of Peter’s voice as he once more stood over her.
“You sexy little cunt,” he said, grinning broadly.
“Thank you,” Yvonne softly whispered as she looked up at him.
“Ready for more of the same,” he asked, grinning even wider.
Yvonne said nothing in reply, torn between the strong desire to be released and allowed to go home, and the wilfully perverted desire to be used further for these sadistic pursuits.
She knew anyway, that her answer would be totally meaningless as Peter would do whatever he wanted regardless of her reply.
Yvonne’s heart sank as she watched Peter take up the heavy leather, brass studded belt that he had previously told her of.
“Oh God, no,” she wailed pitifully. “No! No! That is too cruel, too brutal,” she cried pleadingly.
Anyone else would have been so moved by the tone of Yvonne’s plea, that they would have released her immediately, but not so Peter. He was stimulated to further extremes of cruelty by Yvonne’s heartfelt plea.
Crash! The first blow with the heavy belt came down across her midriff. Yvonne screamed and then her screaming went into a frantic pleading to be spared. She just could not take this ghastly, horrible thrashing with the studded belt.
Peter ignored her and continued to flog and scourge Yvonne’s body as she screamed and wrenched violently at her bonds. She was screaming, howling, wailing, completely out of her mind with the pain being inflicted upon her.
“Oh yes, yes! Go you fucking little whore!” Peter gloated, thrilled and getting more and more excited at the way that Yvonne was now being driven mad. Her frantic, uncontrollable screaming was driving him on, exciting him, thrilling him, gorging him with lust at the wild, frantic heaving and screeching of his victim.
More and more blows rained down. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. More and more violent. Indiscriminately lashing all over Yvonne’s body. He stood astride her and brought the heavy, studded belt down between Yvonne’s spread thighs and right across her exposed, gaping pussy. Yvonne’s screams were piercing. Again and again he thrashed between her legs with wild abandon. Yvonne’s face was contorted with pain and terror as she screamed and screamed and screamed.
Peter became more and more excited and out of control with Yvonne’s crazed reactions to his viciously sadistic belting. “You stupid, fucking, whore, cunt,” he lustful snarled as he put every effort into his work.
Finally, not through any feeling of mercy or compassion, but simply because of his desire to fuck this slut, Peter threw the belt aside and, getting between her naked thighs, he mounted Yvonne’s battered body and fucked her in a frenzy of lust.
For Yvonne, even though she loved fucking, this was continued torture as her pussy had been so badly mutilated by the heavy, studded belt thrashing onto it.
Peter’s fucking lasted only a short time before he filled Yvonne with his sperm. He then let his heavy body fall in sexual exhaustion onto the top of Yvonne’s petite body.
After a few minutes rest, Peter released Yvonne’s hands and then began fingering her pussy, slowly working four and five fingers into her already wet and slippery fuck pit.
A bit of lubrication assisted him in sliding two fingers up her ass at the same time.
Yvonne began to sigh and moan softly and her hands went down and stretched her vulva out to assist Peter in working on her pussy.
Soon she was moaning lustfully and gently rocking her hips in a fucking motion as Peter finger fucked her two holes and beginning to use a little pressure so that not only five fingers were entering Yvonne’s pussy, but also the main knuckles of his hand were beginning to press in and stretch her vagina wide.
Peter kept telling her that she was a “little whore, a bitch, a stupid fucking cunt,” and other demeaning terms. It appeared that Yvonne accepted all of those things as being true of her as her lust and sexual excitement rose ever higher.
“I’m going to get my fist right up your whore’s cunt,” Peter told her spitefully as he began to force the widest part of his fist into Yvonne’s sloppy pussy. She moaned and groaned and pumped her pussy like a whore as Peter strove to force his fist all the way inside her body.
Yvonne was panting and gasping, one hand mauling her breasts while the other worked around Peter’s hand in her pussy. She was lusting like a nympho and the sensations in her body rapidly drove her towards orgasm.
“Ah yes,” Peter laughed with satisfaction as his entire fist finally forced its way up into Yvonne’s body so that her pussy closed around his wrist.
Yvonne was rapidly loosing all control and she moaned like a whore, panting and gasping as she heaved her hips and fucked her pussy onto Peter’s fist.
Peter withdrew his fingers from Yvonne’s ass and clapped his large hand over Yvonne’s mouth and nose so as to suffocate her as she raced to orgasm.
Yvonne began to thrash around on the bed, partly from the orgasmic sensations which continued to drive her crazy, and partly from the fact that she was being suffocated. Her struggles were of course to no avail, how could a little thing like her do anything to resist Peter who was big and strong.
Yvonne’s eyes began to open wider into a frightened stare. She threshed her arms about and her chest heaved as she struggled for a breath of air. In spite of suffocating her hands kept finding their way down to her pussy, mauling around it as Peter continually dragged his clenched fist out, before slowly pumping it back into this whore’s body.
Yvonne’s combined lusting and fighting suddenly became weak and Peter knew that she was losing consciousness. He waited a minute more, watching Yvonne’s eyes roll so that the whites showed only. He then reluctantly released his grip over her face and noted her intake of air and gasping breaths.
Yvonne lay there gasping and semi-senseless. Peter looked down at her face, still very pretty even though her eyes were puffy from crying and her make-up streaked by her tears. He considered for a moment and then drew back his fist and punched her hard on one eye.
Yvonne let out a wail as her head jerked backwards in her semi-stupor.
Peter took hold of a fistful of hair and held her head upright while, with the other fist clenched tight, he continued to punch Yvonne’s face until her eyes were beginning to puff up, her cheeks were red, and her lips broken and swelling.
Peter grinned as he looked at his handiwork. This slut is such a pretty little thing that it’s fun to disfigure her, he considered.
Yvonne was beginning to regain consciousness and her hands went to her pussy and her fingers began to slide through her sloppy wetness and masturbate.
Peter looked down on her battered and lacerated body, marvelling that this slut’s sex drive still urged her on in spite of the violence that he’d used on her.
Her fingertips slipped and slid between her vulva, caressing, rubbing, stretching. Now her fingers began to slip inside her pussy, seeking out her clitoris and gently sliding her fingers up and down on either side of it, stimulating herself into little sighing gasps of pleasure. She began to lift her pussy, pumping it onto her fingers in a fucking motion, slowly at first but gradually becoming more and more vigorous as her lust rose and her fingers began to work frantically at her pussy.
Now she was sighing, moaning, groaning, lusting as she brought herself ever closer to orgasm.
Peter knelt beside her and taking Yvonne’s small breasts in his large hands, he began to squeeze and twist them cruelly.
Yvonne was now gasping both at her orgasmic feelings as well as the pain which Peter was causing her to suffer. She nevertheless continued masturbating frantically, now groaning and moaning as her body was racked with sensational feelings.
Yvonne was rapidly reaching a state where her whole being was centred in the orgasm that raced through every fibre of her body. Peter began slapping her face so that her head was knocked this way and that. Yvonne took it all as she heaved and moaned and gasped until the sensations of her climax became so extreme that she could take no more and fell back gasping and shuddering.
Peter slapped her face, which was now terribly bruised and swollen, then began to stroke his huge, hard cock until another lot of his sperm spurted forth all over Yvonne’s face.
Yvonne lay there looking up through swollen, puffy, tear stained eyes at Peter.
“You fucking little whore,” Peter sneered as he looked down at her.
The hands on the small clock on the bedside table, indicated that Yvonne’s husband would soon be arriving to collect his beaten and battered wife.

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