Duncan Fox: Slave wife

Max didn't want to glance at the naked blonde on the wall calendar as he worked on the Venetian blind. He didn't need the sight of her thrusting tits. He didn't need the sleek line of her thighs, the hint of muff that betrayed she was a bleached blonde. He didn't need any of those things. His powerful hands threaded the thin cord through the pulleys of the blind.

He had a hard-on without looking at the calendar hanging over his workbench.

He had the feeling he had had the erection forever. It was there when he woke up in the morning and with him when he went to bed at night. It was like a lead weight strapped to his gut, dragging at him.

Reaching up to the peg board, his eyes fucking past the calendar girl, Max grabbed the hatchet.

With, a crash, he lopped off the extra cord and imbedded the sharp blade in the bench top. Slipping the loose ends through the knobs, he tied figure-eight knots.

His mind was on Kim. His cock throbbed harder at the thought of her. He didn't have to look at a photograph to picture the lush round softness of her tits, the line of her thighs, the gentle curve of her tummy, the thrust of her ass.

His finger toyed idly with the severed strands of Venetian blind cord as he remembered what she looked like. Her muff matched the hair on her head, soft golden curls nestled between her warm, round thighs. He thought of the cleft between those legs, and his leaked pre-cum.

Goddammit, he had some rights, didn't he? She was his wife, for God's sake! He had a right to want to plunge his aching cock into her hot cunt. He thought of fucking her, and he began to hump his dick against the edge of the workbench.

Then he snorted at his dumb dream. What good was it when she did let him have his way with her? Christ, she lay there like a corpse, enduring his thrusts until his cock leaped and spouted in her cunt.

He wished once, just once, he could get her really turned-on. He longed for her to writhe under him, whimpering with passion as his prick pumped in and out of her spuming pussy.

Max snorted derisively at himself. To manage that he would have to tie her down. Kim wouldn't allow anything other than a simple face-to-face, normal, missionary-position mating. If he tried anything else, she would close up like a clam, shut him out, and push him away.

Something made him glance down at the ropes in his hands. Ropes. Tying. Kim. It all clicked together in Max's mind and he felt the muscles in his stomach tighten. His thick hands twisted the cord, testing its strength. A film of sweat formed on his forehead.

He couldn't. He didn't dare. If he did it, or even asked her about it, she would divorce him.

But, by damn, if he did do it, it would give him a chance to show her how good fucking could feel. She wouldn't be able to do a thing to keep him from finding all her erogenous zones. And, by God, a body like Kim's had to have them. God couldn't create a lush blonde like her and leave out the erogenous zones.

His hands were sweaty as he stroked the lengths of cord across his palms. There were four pieces of rope. Each was about four feet long. Four of them. One for each arm. One for each leg.

She would kill him if he tried. She would walk out of the house when he was through, and go straight to a lawyer, or the cops. She would hate him.

But, what if she didn't? What if he managed to give her such pleasure that she would forgive him? Bottled up in that gorgeous, creamy-skinned body of hers could be all the sexiness of a mink. If he unleashed her wantonness just one time, maybe that would be all it would take. She would forgive him for what he had done, and then their sex life would be as it should be.

He would get his rocks off in fine fashion, by damn.

It was worth the risk of her booting his ass out of the house. No marriage at all would be better than the sad travesty he was enduring now.

Max thought about tying Kim up. Trickles of sweat gleamed on his flesh. His jaw, muscles were clenched so tight they hurt. His hard-on was a solid aching bar. His groin was throbbing with pain.

With the sick, tight, do-or-die feeling chewing away at his gut, he gathered up the strands of cord. He coiled each strand separately, carefully, and turned away from the bench, toward the kitchen. He could hear Kim finishing the breakfast dishes as he carefully latched the door of his workroom and snapped the padlock. His rubber-soled shoes were silent as he crossed the sunlit yard.

Kim had seen him coming out of the workshop with something in his hand. She thought no more about it as she turned toward the refrigerator.

Humming softly to herself, she sponged the smudges off the refrigerator. Max paused by the door, his innards clenched tight. The sight of her in her robe, as unsexy as it was, made his balls steam. He doubted that she had anything on under it. The curve of her ass molded the soft material, gave a hint of her lush, soft roundness.

He told himself he was doing it far her own good as he advanced toward her quietly. Carefully, he eased around the table in the center of the kitchen. He clamped his teeth on the four coils of rope so he had both hands free.

Just as she started to turn away from the refrigerator, he leaped the last few feet, reached out and clamped his hard fingers around her wrists. Ignoring her scream of shock and terror, he shifted his grip, got a firm hold on both her wrists with one hand. With a heave, he wrapped her around the back of his neck and shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Put me down!" Kim screamed, trying to kick free. "Max! What's gotten into you? Put me down, I said!"

"Gonna show you," he mumbled around the rope as he lugged her through the spacious house toward the bedroom. "Gonna show you that you can enjoy a good fuck, dammit!"

"What! You're crazy! Put me down!"

Reaching the bedroom, he kicked the door open. He had been intensely aware of the warmth of her soft body against him. Now his prick was sizzling and seeping.

"Max, if you want to make love, all you have to do is ask," Kim pointed out as if she was afraid she was dealing with a maniac. She had stopped struggling. "After all, tonight is the night."

"Night," Max snorted, trudging toward the bed. "Always night. Well, this time it's going to be in the morning, in the light."

"Max!" Kim warned ominously. "You know I don't like light, Max."

"You're gonna learn to like it!" he exclaimed, standing beside the bed.

"Max, I give you what you want," Kim whimpered. "Now you're hurting me, Max. Put me down and you can make love to me if you want to. Put me down, Max!"

"I'll put you down all right," he said.

Turning his back toward the bed, he released her wrists and legs. He was back around and ready to pounce before she had hit the mattress.

"Max!" she yelped as he banged down on top of her, crushing her against the bed.

Ignoring her screams, he pinned her arms to the bed with his knees. He felt the warm softness of her tits under his ass as he sat on her. Her kicking and squirming increased the throbbing of his cock.

"What are you doing, Max?" Kim asked as he took one of the coils of cord from his mouth. "Max, what are you doing? Have you gone CRAZY?!"

Grabbing her right wrist, he fastened a loop around her wrist, one that wouldn't draw taut if she pulled against it. Casting the free end of the cord around the corner post of the headboard, he drew on it, dragged her arm nearly straight. Then he quickly tied the cord so that her arm was helpless.

Kim looked at him. There was fear in her eyes as she tested the rope. "Max, have you gone mad?" she asked quietly. Her voice was shaking badly.

"If anything," he grunted, securing her other arm in spite of her struggles, "if anything, I've gone sane."