Paul Gable - Whipped wife

"I said shut up!" Matt growled, tightening his grip even more.

"Owwww!" Diane groaned, sinking to her knees as Matt grinned savagely at his cringing wife.

"Better do as he says, honey. This one's a real tough number," Jennie warned.

"And who are you?" Diane asked as Matt let go of her arm.

"One of the girls from his class. But it doesn't matter. He takes care of us one at a time or in a group. Some of the guys join in. It's a gas! He brought me home tonight purposely to force you into it," Jennie said simply as she reached down and curled her fingers around the bottom of her black double-knit pullover.

Diane heard this confession in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to her! She watched with horror as the young brunette pulled her sweater over her thunderous tits and threw it carelessly onto the floor. She stood in front of Diane with her big tits hanging down her chest.

"I'm takin' her downstairs," Matt said decisively as he reached down and grabbed Diane's wrist again.

"Leave me alone!" the blonde cried out, twisting wildly under his grip.

"Don't fight him, honey. Not unless you want more of those charming welts," Jennie warned.

But Diane didn't care what the girl said. She couldn't believe the shame and horror that was being dumped on her head. To find out something like this in the middle of the night in this kind of condition was a horror that she couldn't stand. The blonde shrieked like a madwoman, thrashing on the floor and beating her fists against her husband's legs and belly.

"Goddamned fuckin' bitch!" Matt growled, raising his right hand high over his head. Diane didn't see what was about to happen. She kept kicking, bitching, hitting and scratching. Suddenly there was a sharp blow across the side of her face.

"Uhhh!" she cried out, feeling everything around her spin crazily. The dull pain faded as everything went dark. The last thing the blonde remembered was Jennie laughing mockingly while Matt heaped curses on her head.

"Ohhh," Diane moaned as she slowly rose to a level of consciousness. There was a loud buzzing in her ears as she shook her head gently and opened her eyes. Matt was standing in front of her, smirking strangely. Only then did the blonde realize what was happening. Her hands were bound together and pulled high over her head. Raising her face, Diane saw that Matt had turned his workroom into a kind of medieval torture chamber. She'd wondered why he wouldn't let her down into the basement when he was working there. And when she did sneak down the door to the shop was padlocked. Now she saw the inside for the first time, and the sight terrified her.

"Like it?" Jennie asked.

Diane turned to her right and saw the girl standing next to her. But what a change! The brunette was in a kind of uniform. The girl was wearing a pair of black, shiny boots that pressed tightly against her creamy flesh. Her bushy, black cunt hairs seemed to spark with electricity as the girl stared at Diane's stretched, welted body. The blonde lifted her eyes even higher and saw that Jennie's tits were encased in a tight-fitting leather bra with the tips cut off, letting the girl's stiff brown nipples poke their way into the air.

"What is all this?" Diane asked in disbelief. She felt as if she was having some kind of nightmare, and that she'd be waking up safely in her own bed in a few short seconds.

"Your husband's playtime," Jennie said simply, walking up to Diane until her bushy cunt was brushing lightly against the blonde's pussy.

"Please, don't," Diane said uneasily. She'd never had a pussy rubbing up against hers before. The feeling right now wasn't any too pleasant. The brunette's hot breath and sparkling eyes indicated that she was ready to strap Diane on right then and there.

"Ever eat snatch?" Jennie asked softly as her tits heaved up and down with excitement.

"Nooo," Diane wailed, turning her head away and pulling down at her bonds with all her might.

"Might as well forget about getting away, honey," Jennie said, reaching out and stroking the blonde's goose-fleshed belly skin.

"No! Don't touch me!" Diane cried out, jerking her body outward and pulling down on the leather thongs that pulled tightly up on her aching arms. Both Jennie and Matt laughed as Diane jerked and pulled. "What have you done?" the blonde finally groaned out as she looked helplessly at her husband and the brunette.

"That's not the correct question," Jennie said in a cold voice, stepping up to Diane even closer than before and jamming her right forefinger hard in between the blonde's outer labes.

"Unnnghhh!" Diane grunted, closing her eyes and jerking her body back until her ass cheeks slapped against the cold concrete wall behind her. The woman opened her eyes again and looked up. A long, half-inch rope was tied tightly to the leather straps and bound her chafed wrists together and was hauled over a crossbeam that ran the length of the small workshop. The other end of the line was tied to a winch-type wheel with an S-shaped handle sticking out of one side. Diane could see that anyone turning the wheel would pull the line tauter and thus haul whatever was at the other end of the rope up. It was crude and makeshift, but very effective.

As the brunette continued to play with her pussy, the groaning blonde turned her head from side to side and saw racks lined with whips of various sizes and riding crops that gleamed evilly under the bright overhead lights. Diane begged the girl to stop fingering her snatch. She felt that cold digit prying into her hole like a hungry worm while her husband looked on and smirked at the two women.

"Oh, can't you see? He's using you just like he's using me," Diane moaned.

"Quiet, bitch!" Matt grunted as he unfolded his arms and moved quickly to the wheel. Before Diane could say another word, her husband unlocked the crank and turned the wheel twice around.

"UGH!" Diane groaned as she felt her toes leave the floor. Every muscle fiber in her arms ached painfully as her back scraped along the rough faces of the concrete bricks.

"Maybe so, honey. But I'm being used because I like what I get from him. You've been living in a dream world that's unreal. Your old man decided tonight that you'd get your baptism into reality," Jennie said, stepping back and looking at Diane as she dangled helplessly in midair.

"You're both sick! I swear, I'll report the two of you," Diane babbled quietly as the pain concentrated itself in her shoulders.

"You won't be able to report anything by the time we get through with you," Matt said angrily, locking the wheel, then walking quickly to a tall, oaken cabinet where five black leather whips stood. Diane followed her husband's movements with her eyes, inhaling sharply when she saw him fingering the instruments of pain.

"This ought to make her more agreeable," Matt said in a low growl, wrapping his thick, hairy fingers around a whip and pulling it roughly out of its stand.

"Matt! No! I'm your wife, remember? I'm Diane Hathaway, your wife! Please don't! Oh God, what's happening to you? Oh God, don't! DON'T!" Diane shrieked. Her eyes bulged out with horror and disbelief as she watched her husband unravel the long whip and playfully drag the snake-like leather slowly in front of the trembling woman. Diane felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead as her husband sneered at her.

"Lay it into her," Jennie said in a harsh voice, narrowing her eyes as she watched the dangling blonde wriggle desperately in her bonds.

"Hang on, bitch!" Matt said gruffly as he pulled his arm back, dragging the long whip quickly behind his feet. Diane watched in horrified fascination as his arm stretched back then up in a perfect circle while his fingers tightened their grip on the long handle. The whip itself hissed in the air and cracked down like a guided missile, slicing into the tender flesh just above her thunderous jugs.