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Mad About You: Part 4 (MF, bond, anal)
by Frost

She groaned in pleasure as the heat rose inside her groin. She ground her
hips down and humped feverishly, pulling, straining at the ties, basking in
the wondrous sexual eroticism that was flooding her body.

Then she became aware of the sharp ache behind her, aware of it in the same
way she was aware of Paul's hands moving over her, of his lips on her neck
and throat. It was merely another sensation, another among a myriad of
pleasures rippling along her overworked nervous system.

Then suddenly she knew it was for what it was. Understanding burst through
the waves of pleasure and she caught her breath in shock, then rejection,
then a terrible, dark passion seemed to catch at her throat. She held almost
still, concentrating on the sensation of his cock going into her.

She had never been sodomized, of course, nor ever wished to, but now, it
seemed the ultimate in sexual passion. Now, as she lay belly down, tied
spreadeagled, helpless, she pictured herself and pictured Paul, and
pictured his stiff boner pushing down into her anus, and a wave of
shocking, almost exultant sex-heat crackled through her mind like an
electrical storm.

She felt his thick cock going deeper and deeper, working its way up her anal
tube. She felt herself bloated out, felt herself opened, felt the walls of
her anus caressed by his thick meat, and then bared down on her pussy
muscles, chewing on the buzzing vibrator.

She screamed as she came, smashing her face again and again into the mattress
as a stunning blast of ecstasy ripped through her body and mind. She jerked
spastically, shaking and straining and tearing at the ties as the climax bit
into her guts and tore her mind through a wall of madness.

She felt, from a far distance, his cock thrusting harder, burying itself in
her asshole, felt his balls mashing against her buttocks as he ground himself
into her, then felt the first movements as he began to pump into her.

She fell into a deep, dark well, then felt a flood of flickering, sun-bright
pleasure pouring over her. It swamped her senses, and she bounced and swayed
and turned end over end within it, her mind basking in euphoria.

Atop her, Paul no longer felt the need for much gentleness. As she cried out
her pleasure and her body thrashed and shook and rocked from side to side,
he thrust his cock into her to the balls, ground himself against her, then
paused only long enough to look down and see, with triumphant eyes, her tight
round asshole gripping the base of his tool.

Then he began to pump, fighting the tightness of her sucking asshole, tearing
up and down slowly, but with ever increasing speed as he beat down her
muscles. He felt the buzzing and humming of the vibrator in her twat tube,
felt it against his cock deep inside her belly, and cursed in pleasure,
driven to new heights as he pounded his cock feverishly down into her round
rectal hole.

She continued to tear at the ties, her head bouncing, grunting and moaning
and gurgling in pleasure. He rode her wildly, feeling a glorious pride, even
arrogance, at mastering, humbling his strong-willed, dignified wife, at
pounding his cock up her asshole as she came with uncontrollable passion.

Yes! He was the boss! And she was his! She belonged to him! He would fuck her
brains out!

He panted and grunted in heated pleasure as he slammed his cock down into her
asshole with forceful strokes. He let his body crush her to the bed, his ass
rising and falling like a triphammer as he gave it to her, then he pushed
himself up on his hands, shoving them down between her shoulder blades,
straightening his arms to look down and watch his tool punching into her,
reaming out her buttery little asshole.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yeah! Yeahhh! Take my cock! Whore! Slut! Ungh! Ungh! Up the ass!
Up your ASS! Ungh! UNgh!"

He hammered his hips down against her soft buttocks, feeling the heavy impact
shake her body, hearing the crack of noise as flesh met flesh. He speared his
cock up her asshole, almost like a weapon, stabbing her again and again as
his lust built up to almost delirious heights.

She had stopped her shaking, and was alternately still, limp, or straining
at the ties. But he only had eyes for her asshole. he rode her ass with a
terrible pleasure, doing something he'd dreamed of for years, pouring out the
years of frustration, the years of watching her tight, round, firm, beautiful
ass and not being able to do what he'd so often dreamed.

But now he was, now she was laying there helpless, grunting like a bitch in
heat as he ripped his cock up and down in her ass hole! As he fucked her up
the ass! As he butt-fucked her!

Jamie Buchman, the proud, gorgeous, intelligent, willful, feminist, laying
there with her ass up getting BUTT-FUCKED!

His balls ruptured, his juice pouring out like a firehose, blasting up into
her bowels like a sperm enema. He gnashed his teeth in pleasure as he dropped
full length atop her once more, biting the side of her throat as he rutted
against her asshole.

He felt her spasming hole sucking the juice right out of his cock as she
gurgled and groaned, then he lay still atop her, moaning in happiness as he
felt the last of his gunk draining into her ass.

* * *

Paul got up early the next morning to play softball. Jamie stayed in bed,
pretending she was asleep when he got up. After he'd gone she sat up,
wincing, and tried to put her mind to what had happened yesterday, tried to
understand how their sex life had changed, and why she was permitting it,
much less enjoying it.

For her, sex had always been a thing of romance and love. Now, somehow, it
had become a lewd, crude, rutting and grunting exercise that left her
bruised, physically exhausted, and emotionally drained.

She had organized her life on the assumption that she was totally equal to
any man, and her sex life was along the same lines. Sex was supposed to be a
gentle, loving exercise that reinforced the bonds between two people.

Emotional bonds, not physical ones!

That she had permitted him to tie her up for kicks was not what really
bothered her. What was bothering her was the intensity of the pleasure she
was feeling, and the way her body took control of her, the way she was unable
to restrain herself, much less Paul.

She had never believed she could experience such ecstasy. Even now, awash in
guilt and uncertainty over everything, she knew she wanted almost nothing so
much as to feel that pleasure again. She worried about what it was doing to
her, to Paul, to their relationship.

But it didn't matter. That terrible, wonderful pleasure was better than
anything she had ever felt in her life. The moment of ultimate pleasure, when
her body had shook so hard her teeth had rattled, was more fulfilling than
anything that had ever happened to her before.

She could not give it up. She couldn't! She had to have it again...and
again...and again...no matter what!

But were there no limits? Would she do anything, let him do anything? She had
found the bondage intensely exciting. What did that say about her? Was there
some kind of psychological problem buried deep in her sub-conscious? Why had
she responded so powerfully?

And he had sodomised her! God! God! God! He had done that to her...and she
had loved it! She was sick! Sick!

The memory was so fresh, so bright, so strong, that she imagined she could
feel the ties around her wrists and ankles, could feel her body splayed out,
his weight atop her, his cock churning up her guts...

She looked down and saw, to her shock, that he fingers had crept between her
legs, and that she was unconsciously stroking her pussy slit.

She snatched them away, shaking a bit, wondering if the passion of this...
this...feverish sexual heat would somehow render her mindless, destroy her
will.

But still it didn't matter. She knew she had to have that pleasure again,
knew she couldn't go back to the soft, romantic love-making that had left her
stroking his head and smiling after his climax, but with no climax of her
own.

She was addicted to it. She wondered if it was possible to be addicted to
sex, to the terrible thrill that gripped her body when he used her so
roughly. She couldn't ask anyone, though. The very idea of mentioning this
to her friends made her blush. What would they think of her, feminists all,
if she told them how she loved being tied up and sosomized, how she let him
spank her and masturbate her, then use her like a cheap little whore?

She got up and went into the bathroom, stripping naked along the way, and
stood in front of the full length mirror. She opened her legs and stared down
at her crotch, noting the bruising on her inner thighs. She cupped her pussy,
and felt the tenderness, then turned, bending somewhat, to see the lighter
bruising, mostly red, sore areas on her ass.

There were also marks on her wrists, and she could only stare at herself in
amazement, wondering how she was to cope with this.

She got into the shower, washed her hair too, then dressed in pants and
blouse. She had breakfast, and watched the news. And by the time Paul had
returned she had decided that their relationship would be split along a
simple line. Outside of the bedroom they would continue to be equals. She
would not allow him to dominate her, to take control. She would fight that.

Inside the bedroom, she would let him have his way, let him...ravage her, use
her, fuck her to his heart's content. She would be the cheap whore, the slut.
It would be worth it for that pleasure, for that terrible rush of heat.

That was an amazing surrender for someone who had almost from the start
insisted that Paul could be on top half the time, and she would be on top the
other half.

There was no question who was on top now.

She felt a definite tightening in her stomach muscles at the sound of a key
in the lock, but the feeling consisted of anticipation almost as much as
anxiety. Paul came in and went to the closet, then tossed his baseball glove
inside.

"Good game?" she asked.

"We lost."

"Oh, sorry."

"Ahh, life sucks, and then you die," he said, coming up behind her and
hugging and kissing her.

"You're such an optimist," she said.

"Bought you something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, come on in the living room and I'll show you."

"I'm cooking."

"It'll wait."

"Just a second, let me set it on low," she sighed.

She followed him out into the living room and saw him proudly pulling
something out of a bag. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the black lace.
It was...a black bustier, garter belt, black stockings, and...a G-string.
She'd never actually worn a G-string before.

"You going to model them for me?" she asked.

"No. You're going to model them for me."

"Paaull. I can't wear these," she said, half amused, half scandalized.

"Sure you can."

"I'd look like a hooker!"

"No, you wouldn't. You'd look sexy. Come on, give em' a try."

"Well...uhm, later maybe."

"Now. It'll only take a second."

She reluctantly picked them up, then headed for the bedroom.

"Why don't you just try them on here?"

"Because I don't want to."

"I can help you," he grinned.

"No, thank you."

She went into the bedroom and stripped, removing her much less sexy lingerie.
She watched the door carefully, not at all putting it past him to burst in on
her changing.

First she pulled on the G-string. It felt surprisingly...erotic. He was right
about how sexy it made her feel anyway.

She pulled on the garter belt and fastened it around her, then drew on the
stockings, fastening them to the garter belt. Lastly she pressed the tight,
lacy bustier against her chest, then slowly closed it and tied it in place.
It was surprisingly tight, especially against her breasts.

She went into the bathroom and gazed at herself in wonder. She adjusted her
breasts a little in the cups of the bustier, then stood back, looking at
herself.

God! I look incredibly slutty!

She took off her glasses, then turned and posed for herself, then hurriedly
brushed her hair, then put on some lipstick.

"Honey?" Paul called from the bedroom.

"Just a minute," she called.

She felt herself heating up as she looked at herself. She'd never really gone
in for sexy lingerie. While in high school she'd been under the influence of
her very Catholic parents, then in college it had been the feminists. Looking
sexy was even more of a sin to a feminist than to the Pope.

There was one thing she needed, she realized. She needed high heels.

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Look in the closet and get my black high heels."

It wasn't necessary to tell him which. He'd get the highest ones, she was
sure.

He knocked on the door and she opened it just enough for him to pass the
shoes through. She put them on, then made him stand back before she came out.

She came out almost swaggering, surprising herself at how brazen she acted.
She stood straight, pushing her breasts out, knowing that the tight little
cups which lifted them up and pushed them together also left them almost
naked. The cups were almost transparent, and anyway, only covered the lower
halfs of her orbs, barely reaching the nipples.

"Hey, sailor," she said in a husky voice. "Looking for a party?"

She felt her blood boiling and her skin sizzling with excitement. Her pussy
was moist, and she thought she could smell the musky heat of her sex as she
leaned against the wall. His eyes excited her, for they were obviously alight
with lust at the sight of her.

There was certainly no question any more that she excited him.

He whistled in appreciation, and she turned, bending slightly and showing him
her bare ass.

"What a slutty girl," he growled, moving against her.

She turned around and her lips met his as his arms slid around her. His hands
gripped her bare ass cheeks as their tongues slid together inside her mouth.

She felt his groin pressing against her, felt his hardness through his jeans,
and felt herself responding, felt her own heat rising with his.

She raised her right leg, curling it around him as their bodies ground
together, then, a thought translated instantly to action. Without even
thinking about it she reached down and undid his pants, shoving them down
and pulling out his cock. She gripped it in her hands, still kissing him,
still sliding her tongue along his, then pressed his cockhead against her
snatch.

She eased the G-string aside and pressed his cock into her, then groaned in
bliss as he thrust up and in, driving his prick high into her belly. He
pulled a hand off her ass and tore her right breast out of the cup, then bent
and sucked and chewed on it, his mouth voracious.

He gripped both breasts then, mauling them as he pressed her back against the
wall. Her hands went over his shoulders and she kept her leg raised high as
he bit on her throat, then her nipple, then slid his hands around her again,
clutched her ass, and drove himself into her with a deep, powerful stroke.

She cried out ,and gripped him tightly, waves of heat suffocating her,
drowning her in sexual passion. His body threw her back against the wall, and
then she was in his hands completely, her legs both around him as he pounded
his hips into her.

She pulled herself upwards, grunting and gasping as his heavy body pounded
against her again and again. His lips suckled on her nipples, biting and
chewing as his tongue slurped over them. His hands jerked her ass up to meet
each thrust, and he fucked furiously, wildly, pounding his cock up her slit
with unrestrained violence.

She felt herself approaching a cum, and knew only a moment's fear at how fast
and hard it was coming, then, even as her mind warned her against this the
orgasm rolled over her and she forgot everything else.

It was wild, and rough and crude...and she loved it, loved being smashed back
into the wall, loved his hips crushing hers, loved the feeling of raw, carnal
eroticism as he growled and grunted and chewed on her throat and ears, and
spiked his cock high into her belly.

And afterwards, after they had sagged slowly to the floor and lay there
tiredly, he had pulled her head back, gripping her hair, and casually forced
her head back, then crushed her lips in a casual, deliberately forceful way.

Then, helping her to her feet, he had virtually demanded she not dress. She
had pulled her cups up, put her breasts, at least half of them, back into the
bustier, and adjusted the G-string over herself, then gone back into the
kitchen to finish cooking lunch.

It was the first time she could remember feeling sexy and erotic as she made
lunch. He sat at the table and watched, and she knew his eyes roamed her body
as she moved from place to place, new how naked she was, and how hot.

Even sitting at the table with him eating she had felt hot, her body aglow
with lust as they ate, anticipating more of the rough, carnal sexuality he
had displayed over the past week.

What she had not expected was for him to take her by the hand, lead her back
to the living room, then calmly remove her sexy lingerie, stripping her
naked, undressing her like she was a doll, his doll, his...sex toy.

He had removed her watch, her earrings, and even her glasses, which made her
blink her eyes and squint just a little. Her eyes weren't very bad, but she
was used to them.

Then he pulled another back out from under the coffee table and pulled from
it a long length of rope. She gaped at it, even as he said "Put your hands
behind your back."

She couldn't believe it, and even as the fires were blazing up within her she
felt his hand crack against her ass, and yelped in pain.

"Hands behind your back, wrists crossed. Come on. Do as you're told, slutty
girl."

As if in a daze she obeyed, squeezing her thighs together at the rush of heat
and lubrication in her pussy. She crossed her wrists, and felt him carefully
wrapping the rope around them, criss-crossing them and binding them tightly
together.

He had an awful lot of rope for just tying her wrists together,but she didn't
wonder at it, and felt only more excited, more aroused, as he brought the
rope around her waist from either side, then looped them back around behind
her and tied them off.

He reached down between her legs, slapping them so she'd open them, then
pulled the rope between them, and up directly across her cleft. He pushed the
rope through the loop around her waist, then jerked upwards hard. She gasped
in surprise as the rope was forced up between her pussy lips.

He pulled the rope down over the loop around her waist, tugging that
downwards, then pulled it back between her waist and up the crack of her ass.
Again he tugged sharply, forcing that up between her pussy lips before tying
it to the ropes behind her.

She looked down in amazement, shocked at the look and feel of herself like
this, almost unable to keep her legs still as the ropes dug into her soft,
moist, pink pussy flesh and crushed herclit. She was almost ready to come
just by rubbing her thighs together.

Still, he wasn't finished. She felt him pulling upwards, and then the rope
came over her right shoulder, then also over her left. The two strands hung
down over her swollen breasts, directly across her hot, sensitive nipples.
She thought he would tie them down against the rope around her waist, but
instead he moved in front of her and tied loops in both ropes.

"Bend over," he ordered, pushing on her shoulder.

She bent way over, and he squatted beside her, then reached up and took the
rope that was dangling from her left shoulder. He drew it towards her right,
then fitted the loop around her right breast. He pushed the loop right
against her ribs, then slowly, and carefully adjusted the loop and tightened
it.

"Paaulll," she moaned, when it tightened painfully.

He ignored her, and she felt the tremendous pressure in her breast as the
cone shaped orb was forced out into a fat, round ball of hardened meat. He
pulled the rope behind her and tied it off somewhere near the small of her
back, then too the other rope, the one hanging over her right shoulder, and
pulled it to her left, putting the loop around that breast.

When he let her stand up her breasts were so taut, so tight she thought they
would explode from the pressure. They stuck out like mushrooms, and she could
hardly breath without the ropes digging into her flesh.

She squeezed her thighs together, and came helplessly, gasping and whining
and shaking in place, moaning and humping feverishly. Paul quickly slid his
hand between her legs and squeezed down hard, repeatedly crushing her pussy
lips and the ropes inside them.

She sobbed in an agony of pleasure, her legs folding beneath her and dropping
her to her knees. She moaned and felt her head boiling with an inferno of
pleasure, engulfing her body in a sizzling blaze of sexual power.

Paul continued to squeeze her pussy, and also ran his hand over her taut
breasts, pinching at the nipples as she came. Only after her come had
subsided, and she was laying there in the warm afterglow, did he stop, and
continue with his ropes.

He led the two ropes down her back, then pulled them around her thighs just
below her buttocks, tying them tightly, then led them further down her legs
before looping them around her legs just above her knees. Again he tied them
off tightly, then led them down to her ankles, looped them around, and tied
them off tightly.

By then she had recovered some strength. Her body was still throbbing with
sexual heat, though, and though she gasped in pain, she offered no resistance
as he pulled her to her knees...partly by the arm, and partly by the hair. He
had her kneel in front of him. She couldn't even sit back on her heels, for
that made the ropes between her cunt lips cut up into her with tremendous
pressure.

He stepped back and stripped naked, then, grinning, left her and went into
the bedroom. He returned with the camcorder on a tripod. She turned a dark
red, and though the idea of him taking pictures of her like this was
exciting, it was also shocking enough for her to protest at last.

"Paaaul! Nooo!"

"Why not?"

"I...I don't want you to take videos of me like this!' she gasped.

He grinned, then set up the camcorder, and went to the TV. He rolled the TV
over so she could see it clearly, then turned on the VCR and put a tape in.
She watched, her eyes going wide as she saw what was on it.

He let the tape play, watching her reactions as she saw herself writhing and
screaming in orgasm, as she saw him running the feather over her. Her entire
body seemed to flush red, and she thought for a moment he'd miscalculated,
that she would abandon their games and be furious.

But instead she began grinding and rubbing her thighs together, and then
slowly, groaning as she did, she lowered herself, sitting back on her heels.
Then she began to rise up and down, as if she were fucking something, or..
.no...she was jerking off on the ropes between her pussy lips!

He watched in excitement and fascination as she stared at the TV as if
hypnotised. She was breathing heavily, groaning and gasping as her ass humped
up and down. Then she sat down hard on her heels and kind of ground her ass
down on them. She flung her head back, arching her back, and making her
breasts strain even more strongly.

Her head jerked back again, then again, then again, as her entire body
trembled and shook, then she lost her balance and fell on her side, grunting
and moaning as she rubbed herself against the ropes.

He looked up at the camcorder and saw with satisfaction, that she was still
in it's vision, and that the small red light was on, signifying that it was
recording.

He felt his bulging erection, running his hand up and down it, then got up
and ran into the bedroom. He took the vibrator out of the box he'd stored it
in and hurried back to her.

She still lay on her side, but the orgasm seemed to have passed. She was
panting heavily, her eyes closed. He knelt beside her and turned her onto her
back, then lifted her legs and pressed them back tightly against her chest.
She groaned again, air puffing out of her mouth. He reached down to her
crotch, gripping the ropes between her pussy lips. They were tight, very
tight, but he was able to pull down on the rope around her waist, easing the
pressure enough that, with some effort, he was able to slide the two strands
just an inch to one side.

He picked up the vibrator then, turned it on, and pressed it against her
exposed cunt hole. With her thighs actually bound tightly together, her pussy
hole was extremely tight. But she was soaking wet, her pussy hair plstered
against her sweating thighs and drooling pussy mound.

He forced the rounded head of the vibrator against her hole and shoved it
down, twisting it from side to side as he slowly worked it up into the
groaning, moaning woman's fuck hole. He felt the strain, the pressure
around the plastic tube as he put his weight on it, shoving it inside her,
forcing the thing fully inside her body.

It didn't quite disappear, though he pushed hard, but when he eased the two
loops of rope back over it Jamie groaned and writhed briefly, then her breath
rattled and her eyes closed.

    

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