Peter woke from the drug he’d been given with a headache and a sore jaw. In the hazy light burning into his bloodshot eyes, he tried to remember what had happened earlier that night. He was spending his fifth wedding anniversary with Laura at a fancy restaurant in the southern end of the city. He remembered that she looked radiant and smelled of sweet perfume.
The two of them toasted their marriage on a fine bottle of champagne. They talked of their time spent together and even touched on their love life. Laura commented on what she wanted from him, and Peter responded with what he was more comfortable doing to her. Peter was, face it, boring in bed. He preferred missionary position and his beautiful wife going down on him, but that was pretty much all. Peter felt it wasn’t manly to pleasure his wife using his mouth. That was her job, he even put it.
Laura was crushed inside but didn’t let it show. She thought better of starting an argument in such a nice place, and on her wedding anniversary. She instead took a sip of her drink and looked around the room, admiring other lovers and wondering if those women felt the same way.
Peter also remembered getting up and excusing himself to the bathroom. When he returned five minutes later, he recalled another woman with long black hair in a tight ponytail leaning over and touching her on the shoulder before whispering into her ear. This woman looked stunning in her tight black skirt, spaghetti-strap top and high heels that said, “don’t ever fuck with me.” She exuded power and smiled at Laura before leaving their table.
As he sat down, Peter took his champagne and gulped the last of it down. Laura watched him with a renewed interest and smiled when Peter said he wanted to go home. The couple left, hand in hand, and that’s all he remembered before blacking out.
Now, the poor man was coming to, noticing the cool air on his naked body. Peter’s wrists hurt, and when his vision returned, he saw his hands were bound by rope and he lay against a soft padded wall. The room seemed enormous now, and the floor felt like soft tall grass on his bare feet. My God, Peter thought, this isn’t grass, it’s our area rug! The padded wall wasn’t a wall at all, either. Peter was leaning against a pair of gigantic ass cheeks, and his head rested between the wet labia of his own wife! He looked up and saw her clitoris, and unfortunately for Laura, for the first time. His fingers had played with it many of times in the past, but now it was nearly as large as his own head and looming over Peter’s face.
It was then that Penelope walked out around Laura’s hip and stood before the dominated Peter. She was the same woman from the restaurant. Penelope was shrunken to the same size as Peter, but fully dressed in those commanding high heels and sexy black skirt. She held in her strong hands a black leather cat-o-nine tails. As it turns out, Penelope was a dominatrix.
Peter tried to talk to this new woman, but the ball gag that was making his jaw ache held back any words. He had to stand there, spread eagle against his giantess wife in the buff while she spoke to him.
“So, you’re Peter,” Penelope said without even looking at him. She kept her deep smoky eyes on the nasty device in her hands. She loved how the leather felt sliding over her palm, and the fear growing in her prey. Peter mumbled something incoherent and Penelope cast it aside.
“I hear you refuse to go down on your wife. What should we do with you?” she asked. Penelope dragged the leather tails across Peter’s chest as she asked the last question. Laura watched the show from above, feeling her man writhe against her own taint and anus. The stimulation she felt made her so wet.
“I mean, come on,” Penelope went on, “look at that pussy. It’s simply a work of art, and you’re letting it go to waste, Peter.” He tried his best to formulate words but stopped short when her whip thrashed against his chest. The leather burned in his skin and left nine long red marks. Peter screamed through the ball gag, but it only stirred the dominatrix and his wife.
Penelope softly touched Laura’s inner thigh next to Peter’s head. “She is so beautiful, so powerful, so feminine,” her voice trailed off. “Surely you would want to reach your face down, inhale her scent, taste her juices, kiss her lower lips for the first time. Mmmmmmmm,” she moaned, wanting to do those things herself.
“Do you want to kiss your wife, Peter?” she cooed her voice now and stroked his cock with her left hand. Peter, afraid to piss off this woman, whimpered and nodded his head.
“Liar!” she shouted at him and gripped his erection hard in her clenched fist. Lightning pain shook him to the core. Peter nearly passed out from the pain. Her sharpened fingernails dug into his ball sac as tears formed along his cheeks. “Laura, be a dear and turn your man to face you.” Laura took hold of the string tied to his wrists and pulled. This motion forced poor Peter to step forward before turning around and being pulled toward her vaginal opening.
Peter was now being forced to confront Laura’s pussy. Now, it was massive to him. Peter only stood five inches tall, so Laura’s vaginal lips were nearly the same length as his groin to his head. They lay there, waiting for him in a slick sheen of juices. The aroma of his wife was very overpowering to him. Her anus lay below it too, winking at him from between her toned ass cheeks. Laura always kept good care of her athletic body, and now it was on display for Peter, but the size of a billboard now. Atop her pubic mound was a neatly trimmed tuft of pubic hair. Each strand was thicker than his own, and twice as long, even after being trimmed. Peter’s wife was simply huge now and beckoning him to her. “Why do you resist, Peter? This is your anniversary night. Make love to your woman. Take your wife, Peter.” Again, Penelope teased her submissive. The more he struggled, the more Laura pulled. Finally, Penelope laid a good swat to his rump with her whip. This pain forced him against Laura’s crotch.
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