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Night Visitor

Mr. Taqtiks © 2006

Evelyn examined her wrists with curiosity. There were bruises again. She carefully caressed them and sucked in her breath as the pain took her mind back to the evening before where she got them. . In the bathroom mirror she caught herself smiling at the thought of what happened and will happen again. He was gone. Again. But he’d be back
The night before she had awakened both blindfolded and bound to her bed. She was frightened, as one would expect from being awakened in such a manner, but her fears quickly vanished as the haze of sleep was replaced by her conscious mind. She knew it was him. Her husband. He was playing was one of his…of their…favorite games again.
She struggled, but not too much. One time, after things had changed, she had worked her way out of the blindfold. He left immediately leaving her gasping and sweaty in shock and confusion. She saw him only for a fleeting moment as he disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. She had demonstrated a lack of trust. He punished her with silence. She didn’t see him for days after that. Oh she knew he was there when she wasn’t. A magazine would be out of place. A pillow turned sideways. There were subtle hints. She knew better after that. Don’t look!
The bonds on her wrists were a different story. With the feel of the world’s lightest, but strongest silk, she could pull with all of her might without concern of accidentally loosening herself. She had tried this many times. Hence the bruises. He never bound her ankles though. That gave him access to all of her with ease. He could even turn her onto her stomach. She liked that position. On her knees. Head lowered. Arms crossed just above the wrists. He could and would enter her from behind. Sometimes he would use her mercilessly and she would have to bite the sheets to muffle her cries. She would walk bow-legged for days after that. Sometimes he would use her anally. She had learned over time to enjoy that. 
This night, she decided to try something new. “What are you doing?” she said feigning fright. “I’ll…I’ll scream if you don’t leave,” she faked, careful not to compromise the blindfold. “I’ll..mmmmmmph” she got her desired effect as she felt his manhood push into her mouth. She worked him over in the way that only lovers do. She used her whole soul, taking him as deeply as she could and then back to the tip again repeatedly. To the onlooker, it would look as if the intruder was committing a brutal oral rape, yanking her head and pulling her bushy, short afro. The truth was that his hand merely rested on her head and the rest of the energy was all her. Still, he enjoyed it. On occasion he would pull out giving her just enough time to take some gasps but then he would plunge back in and she would return to her frantic efforts. It was an old trick. Get them off quick and get them to leave. He wasn’t falling for it though and pulled out completely just when she imagined she felt the first drops of pre-cum.
Now it was his turn to try something new. Pain radiated from her nipples. Clamps? Where did he get clamps? She arched her back in reflex and felt new wetness below as the game went to another level. With a practiced ease he removed a clamp and sucked hard on her nipples. The clamp release brought more pain than having the clamp on and the sucking also included nibbles and bites that made her whine and moan. Her hips gyrated uncontrollably and legs opened and closed on their own accord. Left. Right. Right. Left. Left. Left. She never knew what was coming next. In the dim light from the bathroom her breasts looked like cinnamon melons with cherries on top. She had unusually large nipples (a trait he had always loved) and she LOVED having them bitten and pulled. At 35 her breasts were still full and round D’s and could turn a man’s head at 30yards. She had clocked it herself. The repeated torture (truly that’s what it was) heightened her excitement and her body demanded release. “Please!!” she said after countless minutes of nipple and breast manipulation. Her breath came in ragged gasps. And so it was done. The clamps were gone.
Back in the bathroom mirror, Evelyn turned sideways to see her hips and butt. More bruises. Her breasts, thankfully, had survived their ordeal with nothing more than a pleasant but persistent tingling. Her butt was not so lucky. It wasn’t the first time. It just meant no hip-huggers for a few days. It was a small price to pay and well worth the cost. She rubbed some shea butter on the bruised areas and thought about their origin. Again she smiled a devilish, dirty smile. 
With both of them well-aroused now she felt his fingers probe her wetness. Two, then three went in with embarrassing ease thanks to her well-lubricated state. He found her spot with a practiced ease and she shuddered with a mini-orgasm that caught her by surprise. Simultaneously, his thumb flicked her engorged clit. Whatever twist of genetics that gave her nearly 1 inch nipples had also given her a clit that was a full half inch across and long. His thumb played with the thimble-like protrusion sending jolt after sizzling jolt through her. She tried to close her legs but they seemed to open back of their own accord before she could complete the task. The first orgasm literally lifted her from the bed.
Still trembling with mini waves she felt like she was floating. Then she realized he had turned her onto her stomach. She tried to get enough strength to get to her knees and then the first sting of the strap hit her on both cheeks- dead center. “Ohhhhhhh!!” she screamed from some place inside her awakened from fright and pain. The sting felt like it went to the bone. It wasn’t the first time he had used the strap. It just caught her off-guard as she was still riding her cum-high. Instinctively she tried to roll to one side or the other but strong and steady pressure on her back kept her pinned. Knowing what was coming, she bit the sheets. Blows rained on her with a steady rhythm. Some were stinging blows. Some were more like thuds. Tears flowed freely as she released all of her pain of the day, the week, the month. Spankings were healing tools if used properly. 
When her ass was well tenderized, she felt the finger enter her again. From this position he found her spot right away. Three fingers pressed in and out and fluid flowed again. This time she quickly got to her knees and spread her knees wide. He entered her immediately teasing her with just the tip once, twice and even a third time and then plunging in with his full length. She loved his girth. He wasn’t stereotype ‘hung’. He was a little more than average length and a little more than average girth. Enough to fit and be felt well ‘everywhere’.
His hands gripped the round cheeks of her still-stinging ass. She was a ‘sista’ with an ‘a’ and her butt raised the back of her skirts a full 2 inches above the front. When she laid on her back at the doctor’s office nearly half her back never touched the flat bed. When she laid on her stomach her cheeks rose like sculpted marble orbs designed by a Michelangelo delirious with jungle-fever. When she wore tight pants it was HELL on men walking with their dates trying …not…to….look. The downfall of course was that they made inviting and appealing targets for someone holding a strap. He had managed to hit nearly ever inch of her round, honey-colored (but would be cinnamon if she got to do more nude sunbathing) ass. 
Tonight was a ‘rough-ride’ night. The memory of her earlier cum was still fresh in her loins when she felt him hit her spot. It was that sweet spot that curled her toes and made her bit her lip. And he was on it! Damn!! She pulled uselessly against the bonds- using them for strength more than any attempt to free herself. She gyrated her hips out of some ancient, primal urge to mate. She felt him thicken inside her and the strength of his pounding increased. “ooooooooooooooooh shit” she heard a woman say only faintly aware that that woman was her. Sweat trickled down her back, ran down her thighs and glistened off of her ass in the dim light. She loved this!
They pounded against each other now. His hand struck down hard on her ass. The shock went straight to her clit. If she could see it, it would be standing out like a mini-me penis at full attention. His balls hit it with each thrust and that tingle somehow joined with the other feelings from being spanked. Maybe it was all of it. The sucking. The nipple biting. The fingering. The spanking. The fucking. All of the feelings were converging in her clit and deep in her womb and she felt the edge of the wave of her orgasm approaching. He spanked her faster as his own orgasm rumbled.
“Yes baby” she moaned between swats and thrusts, “Do it!!” He said nothing. He never did but she understood that and actually liked it. He was hitting that sweet spot and she was grinding her hips and he was swatting that round ass when, quite by surprise, she came in a long, strong, pulsing wave of orgasm. She wailed into the sheets to muffle herself and spare the neighbors embarrassing looks the next day at the mailbox. She felt him cum like lava and she was up on the next wave shaking her legs and kicking her feet in happiness, pain, love and joy. He was filling her. She felt him completely through her body. He was touching and entering her soul as only he could. She fell to the bed exhausted and before she knew it she was out and sleeping the sleep that only the ‘well-fucked’ know. The kind that makes you smile in your sleep. The kind that makes you giggle the next day. It was a good-damned sleep. Somewhere in the night, as always, he left.
Done with her hair and make-up she turned off the bathroom light and re-entered the bedroom to get dressed. The bruises on her wrists were barely perceptible and would be easily hidden with a few bangles and bracelets. Thinking about it for the thousandth time, what would she tell people if they asked? Would she say that once or twice a month her husband bound her to the bed and ravaged the hell out of her? Would she say that she liked being tied up and helpless? That she liked being beaten and used by the man she gave her whole heart to? She couldn’t help it. She loved it. By him and she unashamedly looked forward to the next visit in a week or so.
“But Evelyn” they would say, “Your husband has been dead for over a year.”

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