Unknown Waifish Model Ch. 03
Keywords: Model, Unknown, Waifish, Ch., 03,
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"Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.
(c) 2003 Couture"
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When we got back home, the honeymoon was over. He even told me so. He had come home from work and by the look in his eyes, he was furious.
"Okay little girl," he said, walking toward me, a looped leather belt swinging menacingly from his hand. "The honeymoon is over. And haven't I been good to you? Haven't I explained what a good little wifie should do? How she should act? How she should dress? And now I come home, after a hard day's work and you weren't even waiting at the door for me and where's my dinner?"
"I'm sorry Sweetie. I lost track of time and dinner is almost ready." I said, backing away, and then making a run for it as he kept coming.
I can see why the Chinese used to bind their women's feet. I could have probably given him a run for his money, but not in heels. He caught me easily, dragged me to the sofa, and gave my ass a beating with the belt. I struggled at first, but he kept whipping me until I hung limply in his lap, gasping for breath, tears rolling down my eyes.
"Get your self cleaned up," he said. "You look like shit."
I freshened up in the bathroom, and dried my tears. Afterwards, I served him dinner as if nothing in the world had ever happened. We ate and watched TV like a normal couple, then went to bed. The belt on the nightstand caught me eyes. He must have seen my stare.
"Yeah, bitch, and there it will stay until you learn to start acting right," he said. "Think of it as a reminder."
God he was a monster - a fiend - a black ogre. He pulled the sheet back, displaying his semi-erect cock. "You wanna ride, huh? Does wifie want a good fuck tonight?"
"no," I whispered. I looked down at my painted toenails, the memory of my earlier whipping still fresh in my mind.
"Too bad," he said. "Oh well, there's other ways you can take care of your husband's needs, so come on up here and perform your wifely duties."
I obeyed. Like a robot, I performed the deed exactly as he had instructed weeks ago. I even swallowed his vile seed and cleaned his cock, before putting it back in his shorts. Afterwards, he snuggled up behind me and went to sleep. I was tired and not long in following.
*************
I hated that belt. It stayed there on the nightstand . . . a reminder of what would happen with any little mistake or disobedience. After being whipped every night or two for a solid week, I couldn't sit. It even hurt to stand. There was always something I would mess up. And with the knowledge of what would happen when I did make a mistake, it made me even more likely to do something wrong.
I was so careful. Everything was perfect and then . . .and then while I was dusting, I knocked the lamp off the table and broke it. To make matters worse, I cried and my makeup ran. Two whippings. Phil was due home at any moment. What was I going to do?
And then it hit me. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I was still thinking like a man trapped in a woman's body, but what would a woman do in my situation? Maybe leave? Maybe. . .
I went to the bathroom and wiped the smeared makeup from my face. I hurriedly put it back on. I did a horrible job, but I hoped it wouldn't matter. Then, I put on a pair of stockings, followed by the shortest, tiniest mini-skirt in the closet and the highest heels I could find.
I heard his car pull up. Shit, I hadn't even started dinner. I hurried to the front door, looked out the peephole and waited for Phil. When he approached, I opened the door and put on my best June Cleaver act.
"Hi honey, how was your day?" I beamed.
"It was okay, and yours?" he asked, hugging me.
Okay, it was now or never. "I had the most horrible day." I kissed him - even slipped him a little tongue and nibbled his lower lip, doing my best to hide my revulsion. "I was such a clumsy clumsy girl. I broke the lamp and then I started crying. . ." It was so humiliating. I prayed it would work.
As I was talking, I noticed Phil wasn't looking at me, but at the breast peeking out from my unbuttoned shirt. He opened the shirt the rest of the way and casually rolled my nipple between his fingers. Right there with the front door opened behind him.
"And then I was late making dinner because I had to fix my makeup." I stamped my foot and pouted. I could feel my nipples responding to his touch. The sensation was so far the only good thing that had happened to me since this all began. "You're not mad, are you?"
"Maybe not." Phil said, as he slipped the shirt from my shoulders and then pushed me down to my knees.
Shit, old man Gruthers was across the street watching us. Leering at my exposed breasts. "Ah sweetie- old man Gruthers is watching," I hissed.
"Let him watch." Phil unzipped his pants and unwound his rapidly swelling cock.
God how my ass ached, but I knew I had to do it if I was going to avoid the belt, and then it would ache even more. With one hand, I attempted to preserve my modesty, and with the other I braced myself against Phil's thigh, while I licked the bulbous purple head of his cock.
"Do it right," Phil said in a voice that brooked no compromise. "You know how I like it."
I knew how he liked it, but I didn't like doing it out there in the open like we were. Not where anyone could walk by and see. I took a quick peak. Mr. Gruthers, the old bastard was fondling his cock through his pants and grinning stupidly. I was forced to bare my small breasts to him when I cupped Phil's balls with my left hand. With my right, I held his cock against his belly, while I licked and sucked him from the bottom of his hairy balls to the tip of his thick black cock.
Then, I started sucking him in earnest. I knew well enough how to do it. I had received enough blowjobs in the past and by now, given Phil quite a few myself. I rolled his balls in my palm, jacking his cock in a twisting motion, all the while; I bobbed my head up and down. The bracelets on my wrists jangled as I worked, serving as a loud ringing reminder of what a slut I had become.
"Fuck!" Phil gasped. "I'm getting ready to cum slut. Open up." He pulled out and grabbed his cock from my grasp, jerking himself off, while I held my mouth open. I hated it when he did that. It was bad enough when he just came in my mouth. But when he pulled out, it not only ended up in my mouth, but all over my face. And that is exactly what he did.
Afterwards, I dutifully cleaned his prick and put it back in his pants. I know Mr. Gruthers got a good look at me with my face covered in semen. I shuddered to think of what must have been going through his bald wrinkled head.
I went to wipe my face clean.
"No, leave it," Phil said. "I think you look cute like that."
Yeah, cute. A cute slut. A cute cum slut.
Other than the strange feeling of drying cum on my face, the evening was pretty normal. No spanking or punishment had been given. An outsider would have seen a husband and wife. However, I knew the truth. I had once been a man and turned into Phil's wife. Less of a wife and more of a sex slave to the black bastard.
That evening I gave myself an enema before bed. I suspected that we might have sex, and I shuddered as I remembered the last time back in Vegas when I had to clean him afterwards. No, I wouldn't let that happen again if I could help it. After that, I put on some lingerie, and a couple of sprays of perfume. I knew that the belt was still on the nightstand, though he had made no mention of punishment.
"Looking good," Phil said from the bed. "That pussy getting lonely?"
No, my pussy wasn't lonely. My ass just didn't want to be whipped. And to be honest, I only needed to cum and to hell with the rest of it. But the only way I was allowed release was when he was in me . . . in my ass. He was an evil fuck, a bastard beyond compare. I hated him, yet I climbed into bed, gave him his required kiss on the cheek and turned my back to him without a word.
He snuggled up behind me. I could feel his cock in the valley of my arse. It grew hard and soon he was humping against me. My body betrayed me and I soon found myself moving back against him.
"That pussy *is* getting lonely, ain't it?"
"Yes." I admitted.
"Then tell me. Tell me what Chrissie wants."
I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see my face. "Chrissie needs your fat cock in her pussy daddy. Chrissie needs a good fucking."
"Turn over. I want to fuck you like a dog," he said. "I'm gonna work you hard tonight."
It hurt. I wondered if I would ever get used to his huge prick. In Vegas, I was allowed to masturbate, which seemed to take the edge off. This time, he held my hands behind my back while he took me. The lubrication I put in my ass in the bathroom helped at first, but it eventually started burning painfully, making me forget the aching from my earlier whippings. I needed him finish, and finish quickly, so I spread my legs and arched my back.
"Give it to me Daddy," I groaned, in hopes of speeding his release. "Ah. Ouch. Fuck me with your fat cock- fill me with your cum. Ugh. Ugh. Drown me in it. Just hurry. Ugh. Ouch."
"Do it now," he said, letting go of my arms. "I'm close. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Oh God, gonna give it all to you."
I didn't need to be told twice. I masturbated as quickly as I was able. I wasn't even allowed to jerk it. I had to rub it beneath my fingers like a woman rubbed her clit. In the end, it didn't matter. I came massively, and with each spasm, my ass clenched against his twitching cock, his cum cooling the irritated lining of my insides.
I slipped into sleep easily for the first time since we had been back . . . even though I was in the wet spot.
*************
That's pretty much how it went for the rest of the year. It was tough at times, and while Phil treated me better and didn't whip me with the belt anymore, he would still warm my bottom and make me cry with his hand. One of the hardest things was that I had no one to talk to during my ordeal.
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Keywords: Model, Unknown, Waifish, Ch., 03,