John Friday: Raped wild wife

Brett stepped over to a closet uniquely equipped for special guests. The first thing he selected was a pair of foot-long scissors with flashing chrome blades. He clicked them maliciously land laughed with the same grating, metallic sound as he returned to where her ankles were strapped.

"Off comes your dress and anything else you happen to have on underneath!" He began snipping at the hem of her dress, splitting it upward between her wide-spread legs.

"Hhhaaaght!" she groaned. The sharp, grinding click of the shears seemed to be severing nerves as well as her dress. She felt the numbness of terror creeping toward her tit mound.

The flat, cold bottom edge of the shears touched her there, sliding over her thin panties while the snapping blades moved steadily up ward toward her heaving tits. Christ! It feels cold as a snake!

Brett carefully worked the lower blade beneath the center web of her bra and severed that along with her dress front.

"Huuunnngh!" she gasped. Her fast breathing had swelled her tits. When her bra parted, her tits burst free with a rush of soft flesh.

He gazed with lurid hunger at her quivering tit-mounds. "A great set of tits you've got!"

"Put the scissors away and suck on my tits," she pleaded, gulping in breath and drawing her shoulders back to thrust her tits out invitingly.

"Nod, not while you've still got your panties on. I don't want any more secrets between us, remember?"

Veronica shuddered again. She felt the cold blade sliding down her hip, cutting away the silk material. Then she felt it on the other side, and he jerked away her split panties, her ruined dress and the remains of her bra.

"Please don't ruin the coat. It doesn't belong to me."

"And it doesn't cover anything I want to see." Her arms trembled in the furry sleeves and the wide, soft collar bunched around her anguished face, but the front lay open and concealed nothing.

"But some of that pussy hair has to go. Christ, even with your legs spread, I can't see your cunt slit."

"No… Brett, God, please no!" He grasped a handful of the silky brown curls draping her cunt. The icy cold blade touched her most tender flesh and then she heard the scissors snap shut.

The tug of his hand ended abruptly, and she knew at once that the tufts of cunt hair he held were gone. She wailed a low, mournful cry. He instantly gripped another tuft and snipped that away. "You'll soon have the wispy-haired pussy of a young girl!" Brett said. That obviously delighted him.

Rarely did young and never did attractive women have need for his fucking services. But that was his past life. Never again! He would humble this sexy bitch to redeem himself, and then, with her father's prosperous furniture store as a base, he would use his street-wise cunning to make them both rich.

She could have her glittering diamonds and her precious furs. He had decided to spend his soon-to-be-acquired wealth on the most luscious and exotic young girls in the world. These random thoughts flew through his mind and excited him almost more than the fine, dripping cunt he'd almost snipped bare.

Veronica could not raise her head high enough to see all that he'd done, but most of the silky, T-shaped spread of pussy hair that covered her pussy mound was gone. She sobbed hysterically and quaked with excitement at the same time. Beneath his apparent cruelty, she sensed passion and lust like she had never known before.

She also sensed the kind of vicious cunning that would make her dreams of wealth come true at fast. She moaned and rolled her heed, letting the soft mink collar caress her cheeks.

"Ooooh, Brett… please fuck me. I need a great cock right now. Fuck me!"

He stood watching, smirking at the way her almost-hairless pussy writhed with pulsing, begging fuck motions. Her churning made the heavy straps squeal from strain and redden her tender wrists and ankles.

Slowly, he began stripping off his clothes. It was a well-practiced performance – one he'd done countless times – but never with such a good reason, and never with the prospect of such a rich reward.

He had a broad chest rippled with sinewy bands of muscle, a trim waist, and flat belly, taut with restless strength. Below, he casually revealed a thick, dark tangle of cock hair – a shock because his upper body was smooth and shiny without even a trace of hair.

As he eased his tight-fitting slacks down, Veronica saw the root of his cock – a giant stump growing out of that thick tangle of bush. His prick shaft drooped thick and long. What he had done so far had not excited him fully.

"Let me suck your cock," Veronica moaned through quivering lips. "Ooooh, I'll make it so huge and hard! Then we can fuck. Ungh! I need your big cock so much!"

"You'll get my prick when I'm sure we understand each other." Brett strolled back to the closet and replaced the scissors, grinning coldly as he picked up a cat-o'-nine-tails; a short stiff-handled whip fitted with nine thin leather thongs about two feet long, each one knotted tightly at the tip. When he swept it through the air, it made a sound like howling wind.

Veronica's whining demands had given him a clue. He'd known enough women to recognize all the types, and he suspected that this nagging, wheedling bitch had made her husband's life pure hell. For the first time in his life, he found himself feeling sorry for a cop.

"For as long as we are together, I tell you what you will get and when you will get. Do you understand that?" He swung the multi-tongued lash at his left hand. The thongs hissed, spreading from his elbow to his fingertips.

"Yes!" she cried in a shrieking voice, "but I need your cock now! My poor bald pussy is burning hot!"

"You haven't learned!" Brett said sharply. He threw back the lash and streaked it down across her pussy mound.

"Hhhhaaaggghhh!" Nine hard fingers of pain spread between the points of her hips, forging themselves into a single shocking stab of pain that ran up her spine like a lightning bolt.

"No more! No more!" she cried, still wracked by the spasms of pain.

"You still haven't learned," he said flatly. The cat flew back, and its nine rasping tongues welted her cunt mound again. The criss-crossed pattern looked like a road map. They merged into a superhighway of pain that ran non-stop up her back.

In the throes of agony, Veronica finally began to understand herself. When she was young, her father always disciplined her severely. He was the absolute and unquestioned master of the house, and he was the only kind of man that she could respect enough to love.

Grant, for all his toughness on the street, had never been so forceful at home. Perhaps because he sought refuge there, calm after all the stress of being a cop. The why no longer mattered! Only the when! When would Brett Allison make her the kind of woman she'd always yearned to be! The question haunted her, but she now knew better than to ask. Her lips moved, but only a hot rush of anxious breath came out.

"That's better!" His cock stiffened each time he laid down the broad fan of stinging pain. Once more should do it, he decided. He drew back his hand.

Veronica lay strapped to the bed, her ripe body swelled with fear and the urge to scream for mercy. But she bit her lip and clamped her eyes shut, shivering and trying to brace herself against the worst.

It never came. Brett felt satisfaction enough from her attitude of complete submission. He crouched between her spread legs and began to tease her pussy with his giant cock.

Leaning forward, he pushed his prick in. Her pussy was so wet with honey, his cock so aching-hard, their two bodies fused instantly in a writhing mass.

He spread his hands and caressed her blushing cheeks with soft dark folds of fur, and he kissed her gaping lips while stabbing viciously with his tongue. His cock plunged in and out of her cunt with the same wild rhythm, punching and trusting so hard that she wanted to scream.