Grinning at what she sees of my queer delirium in that pristine new mirror, my wife betrays an unmistakable spark of excitement of her own that’s almost as unprecedented as the style of lingerie she’s wearing. It’s like something out of those Mad Max movies. To start with the bra is utterly cup-less. Made of just thin leather strips linked by steel rings and bristling with half-inch silvery spikes, it’s less a bra than a brazen display harness for those beautifully mutable boobs. The matching panties are similarly left open to expose her buttocks, delta of Venus and even that sacred font – though the same spiked strips bracketing that heavenly entrance promise an exquisitely painful, possibly even bloody ride, regardless of anything I might be hiding inside.
Clearly Miss Baptist Vanilla is ancient history, subsumed entirely in this devilishly vengeful new deity. Good for me! And good for our damaged marriage. Now let’s just see what the demon I’ve unleashed can do for our criminally unsatisfactory s*x life…
“There you go, Harriet! Just the way you’ve come to love it. Now that my increasingly effeminate sissy is ‘Properly’ butt-stuffed, let’s have some punishment fun. What do you say? I know that’s my favorite kind of foreplay!”
And so together we revel in a brutal belting, a shackle-rattling paddling and the lashing of that stiff-but-limber little riding whip until the suspense is more unbearable than the rapidly accumulating damage. Only when the hysteria in my cries makes this undeniable does my Goddess at last cast that crop aside. With tears still smearing the divine vision in the mirror, I await the order to roll over for mounting with such a keenness of semen-spilling need that I cease to even breathe. Only instead of finally activating that wonderfully deep-stuffing vibrator, my wife suddenly pulls its fulsome thickness right out of me!
Furiously I try to blink the blurriness away from my surely cheated gaze. And what I see when the smearing clears makes me suck in such a sudden huge breast-swelling breath that the whole room gyres about my head. This can’t be what she really means…!
Along with all of her other new accoutrements, Goddess Gretchen has acquired a replacement p***s! Only as dildos go, this is a diabolically double-the-fun kind of one.
Watching my wife slide the cleverly contoured, smaller curved half up inside her v****a leaves the big realistic outer b***r jutting up from her spiked crotch as if organic and indeed integral to her original equipment. Wiggling this to test its fit and crying out in delighted erotic surprise, my suddenly intersex deity giggles so uncharacteristically!
For the first time since seeing my own miniscule p***s for the first time, my chosen spouse gleams with genuine merriment when she looks up and meets my astounded eyes.
“Still super-excited to have s*x with me, sissy?”
“You…you can’t…”
“No, you can’t – satisfy anybody with that uselessly stunted hubby-stubby. That’s why it’s high time we tried out mine. Besides, read up on it subject: In any proper wife-led relationship it is imperative that the ruling goddess wield the c**k, whether as reward, punishment, habitual intercourse or all of the above.
“Dominant-submissive ass-s*x like this is known as ‘pegging’, my penetration-craving new buggery-pet. Don’t you even begin pretending that you don’t find the prospect of it irrepressibly thrilling! I see the way you keep peeking at me. You can’t wait to take my big new bone. Tell me: just how hard is Mister Measly currently, my grovelingly obeisant sissy?”
What else can I do in the presence of such divine duress but confess?
“Extremely so, my Supreme Being.”
“Then maybe you should quit worrying about your pathetic self-image and well-deserved s****l destiny and just beg me to f**k you already. Consider that for the first time I’m actually looking forward to the prospect. Can you afford not to let your life-partner explore perhaps this last chance at mutually complementary conjugal compatibility?”
Well…when you put it like that…my protests peter down into mumbled nothings. Surrender inevitably succeeds such honesty.
“Please, my most glorious Goddess Gretchen. Will you once again take my tender virginity from me? Perhaps this time our marriage will be properly consummated.”
“Amen, my fraudulent young husband!”
***
Though still considerably dilated from treasuring Mr. Proper, my slut-hole has begun to ease closed. And Mr. Reciprocal – so named for his reputed ability to f**k us in tandem – is quite a bit larger than that eight-inch vibrator.
Statuesque Gretchen has been generous with the gel though. And she’s built up a ton of muscle lately. It’s made her strong – oh so magnificently strong as she crouches behind me, spreads me wider, seizes me bodily and so slippery-swiftly spears her so hugely eager erection so deeply up inside of me.
“AaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
For shocked screaming sissy me it’s quite the belated epiphany.
Of course the immediate deranged raging of my man-remnant is hardly a necessary referent. All that earlier gouging about should have prepared me for the damned’s alchemy of agony, abysmally deep debasement and the most virulently perverse s****l ecstasy that overwhelms me upon being so deeply, irremediably reamed, as in forcibly cored; stretched to ridiculously excessive dimensions.
So submissively exhilarating is this quintessential victimization that I almost miss my deity’s own amazedly, brazenly exultant shriek of sadist-r****t’s lustful glee as she so viciously, victoriously takes that innocent (nay, guilty!) virginity from me. Not that that matters. Clearly inspired beyond my experience, filled with passion the likes of which I’ve never even dreamed, Goddess Gretchen rears back and begins hip-jabby ass-stabbing me so ferociously you’d swear she was born to wield such a devastatingly effective goring organ.
“Yeah baby! Who’s f*****g whom now, sissy b***h!
“Who’s got the only c**k in this house worth whipping out?
“Who’s got the only genes worth passing on and who the f**k does not?
“Let’s just see who comes the first and who comes the most from f*****g this disgustingly effeminate little no-d**k c**k-loving strumpet and then we’ll decide, shall we? And after that maybe we’ll take some belated steps to pay back all your f*****g frauds, and get this cheater’s so-far useless union properly on track at last, once and for f*****g always!”
All this gloating and degrading is again unfortunately relegated to background sound. I’m too enraptured by soaring on the symphony of emotion-sensation swamping me to pay my deity her rightful heed. Her hands gripping me captive, her hips and spiked panties so briskly slap-spanking my so badly bruised bottom, but mostly of course her savagely stabbing, hugely intrusive erection remaking me by the second are all so intensely, freshly compelling!
Who’s the vanilla one now?
Never could I have even conceived of such a bent yet unexpectedly rewarding connubial connection. Now I know I’ll never get enough of such rough ownership, such divinely thuggish buggery perpetually putting me properly in my puling peon’s place!
Whoa, and woe unto me!
I had thought being paddled made my mashed-into-the-pillows little loser-b***r pulsate and strain! With Goddess Gretchen so dominantly sodomizing me, it rubs that insignificant crushed stub so much harder, and with such a deliciously irresistible rhythm too!
Uh, uh, oh, oh, OH! Then when my suddenly magnificently hate-copulating wife grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back to meet her fiery gaze blazing derangement at me in the mirror, the sight of her flushed loveliness maddened by passion is more arousing than the spectacular dancing of her unfettered breasts.
Anything that so successfully inspires Gretchen’s estrus excites me by orders of magnitude more. Her erotic gratification provides my existence with validation like nothing else possibly can. Even if I hated being taken this way (like the most lubriciously complicit little w***e-slut-b***h), I would quickly learn to crave such depravity, just to see my transcendent deity panting and shrieking so resplendently.
Of course the evidence is obvious that I don’t hate it.
Unmanly or not, being anally c**k-dominated arouses me so powerfully that my every urgent cry just eggs my defiler on. Not that this Supreme Being needs such pleading. From squat-kneeling upright she releases my hair to lean forward, supporting herself on palms propped to either side. Then with those dancing breasts drawn down into fabulously pendulous udders she uses her improved leverage to really start butt-f*****g her hatefully repugnant fraud-husband.
Soon I’m screaming too, practically in an abuse-fugue, my helpless wails broken into stuttering by the way her power-pounding keeps my entire pinned-and-pegged body juddering with endless rhythmic shudders. Thank heavens my ruler is so superbly athletic. From this point on in the deflowering marathon the race is truly underway. Now we’re down to that wickedly consequential question of which of us will climax first – then the greatest number of triumphal times thereafter. Naturally Goddess Gretchen has more than just the technological edge.
“Damn that’s fantastic! Oh, the dyke who designed this d**k was a goddamn genius! Every…time I…pound it…into you…” Goddess punctuates her gloating with particularly vicious, gasping stabs, “It rocks against…my c**t…and pushes hard…right on…my g-spot! Yes, yes, YES! Take it… and crave it…forever…you lying…slut-cunt!”
It isn’t long before the snarled insults scale off into incoherent shrieks again.
Please, she’s drilling into me like she expects to strike some precious reservoir of unlimited power at any second! And that’s exactly what my Goddess does of course.
The instant she begins maniacally scream-stabbing her obviously most violent-ever climax into her blessedly accepting receptacle, my formerly free soul is unquestioningly no longer my own. While Goddess Gretchen can wield her divine p***s so mightily, I am blindly joyous to be her least piece of property.
Acknowledging this axiom at the very peak of that shrieking, ass-stabby-battering taps so deeply into me that immediately my unworthy seed is released in a come-gusher of indescribably intense euphoria-relief.
For an addictive-submissive sissy like me it’s as if my last iota of autonomy is fleeing right along with that demonstrably substandard semen. Of course my omniscient Supreme Being need sneer only briefly in her celebration of victory.
“I was first, first, first! I win sissy! And so we’ve achieved an almost-simultaneous climax apiece. Let’s just see how you treasure the pleasure of me running up the score and more on you now, b***h!”
***
I treasure it like high piles of diamonds, like sunshine in springtime, like seeing a corrupt Republican get his comeuppance.
No, f**k that; even though I’ve already ejaculated, I surely can’t again and I’m growing more horribly sore by the moment, I treasure that pleasure more than all three of those wonders at once. As long as my new soul-owner is glorying in her wonderfully definitive new role I can acknowledge only holy exaltation.
Of course not even a true marathoner could f**k me as ferociously as Goddess Gretchen does indefinitely. With her utter suzerainty permanently assured, she switches from looming leaning over me to dropping right atop me.
Squashing those fabulous breasts against my back (my wife hasn’t let me touch these since her wedding night discoveries), she pants more insults in my ear and rides me good and violently, though far more sedately than before. Our nearly naked bodies melded together from the hard c**k connecting us to the soft cheek pressed against my head, we rock atop the piled pillows like honeymooners who’ll never be able to get enough of each other.
Of course eventually Gretchen accelerates again to stab orgasms two and three into me. After that though, she really has to relax. She even drops into a twenty-minute doze while still obligingly lodged deep inside my squashed and beat-up body. But when she stirs again it’s to reveal why she’s now leaving my nail-polished feet free.
“Get up mutt! Onto your knees and forepaws. I’ve wanted to do my butt-licking little b***h doggy-style ever since I first read about this. That mirror is there so I can see every least expression that flits across your d**k-slave face as I regularly take my conjugal rights in the most appropriate way – coincidentally the way that least stimulates your useless loser’s weenie.”
Aksara