V for Vendetta

by Agnostic

Copyright© 2012 by Agnostic

BDSM Sex Story: Reluctant rape scene between a married couple and the wife's friend.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   True Story   Slut Wife   Wife Watching   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Group Sex   Polygamy/Polyamory   Oral Sex   Voyeurism   .

I know it's coming. Any minute now, I'm going to go through one of the worst experiences of my life — again — and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it. I remember the last time disgustingly well, the salty ooze running down my lips and tongue, and I remember how his voice changed just as he was about to do it, too. The way he's got my hair and is pulling it too hard is just like it was before; the tears that sneaked out of my eyes the last time in pain seem to have returned just so that I could cry them once more.

It's my fault. I know it is. I know I deserve this. I know that it's the price I pay for my excessive flirtation. I should have been more reserved, more cautious about how I presented myself. I shouldn't have been so selfish as to think that I could just get what I wanted without giving something in return. Thank god we'll be "even" after this. Until next time, at least. I shouldn't think about that though; I shouldn't let it happen, even. But in this moment, there's no hope for escape. All I can do now is take what I'm given and remember why I don't want to do it again next time. I've got it coming to me.

Last time seemed to take forever. At least this go-around he really knew what he was after and didn't care to waste any time, though having the accomplice probably made it a bit easier. That's sort of an improvement at least. When he did this before, we had been watching a movie; I was snuggled up in his lap not once questioning his intentions. In retrospect, we probably should have talked about it a little more openly, but he seemed like such a nice guy that I just never thought he'd do this ... nor could I have known that I'd allow him to do it again once he had. I thought that having Gene there this time would keep him from trying anything, not thinking for one second that they might enjoy acting in collusion for a "round two".

About halfway through the movie, I noticed that I was sucking on V's finger. Now, really, I didn't mean anything by it, any more than by having Gene rub my feet at the other end of the couch at the same time. It's just something I do without really thinking about because it's enjoyable, like a habit, an oral fixation that sometimes extends to the people around me rather than to just chewing on pens. I should have bought a fucking pen. I didn't figure it bothered him, seeing as we'd been friends for so long anyway. I thought he'd understand that I meant it to be platonic; besides, I'm married. After another half hour or so, V excused himself briefly and went into the kitchen, then to the restroom, and came back with a folded-up blanket presumably from his bedroom. I was a little chilly myself and wished he'd have shared, but I resolved myself to waiting until after the movie had finished before I would bother getting up to grab my hoodie. He sat back down in the same spot as before and resumed watching the movie snuggled against me just as he'd been. I thought nothing of it at the time ... except that he should have shared the blanket with me, too.

I can't say if this would have been so simple for him had it been a crappy movie, but I was pretty entranced with Kevin Spacey, especially toward the end as the investigator started to put it all together and realized that he'd been talking to Kaiser Sose all along. The way he shifted from that helpless gait into upright and unimpeded mobility was spine-tingling. It's the sort of scene that draws your focus away from anything and everything and puts it all on that screen. That's exactly what happened.

Suddenly I felt the cool metal of the handcuffs against my wrists, one pair on each. I jumped in shock and tried to pull away, making it quite clear that this isn't what I wanted. V had already attached both pairs of cuffs to one another behind my back. I started to demand an explanation for his actions, to struggle free, believing that he might just be playing some kind of ludicrous joke on me. He wasn't. Before I could even discuss it with him, before I could ask for an answer, before I could determine what the fuck was even happening, I saw him removing an oddly shaped piece of metal from inside a fold of the blanket and coming toward my mouth with it. If I'd known what it was, I'd have closed my mouth right then. Instead, he interrupted me mid-sentence to shove this open-mouth gag into my face and pinched the levers tightly apart. I tried to bite down on it, thinking there might be some slack in its tension, thinking it might give a smidge so that my jaw could close even slightly. Oh no. Of course not. My hands were locked together and my mouth was hinged open wide as could be with no hope of reprieve: fact. I looked at him with fear, unsure of what to think about my new circumstances but realizing that I was indubitably confined to them. I looked at Gene, expecting some kind of assistance. There was only compassionate apathy in his eyes; he was obviously intrigued, and with no intention of intervening.

"Don't be afraid, little one. This won't hurt too much. I think you're probably even going to like it, and if you don't, well, it's still only fair that you get it since I've already paid my dues. I've rubbed your back and shoulders. I've cuddled with you all day. I made you a fucking delicious dairy-free lasagna dinner, and you never even lifted a finger or asked if you could help." He slapped my left nipple.

"Hell, I let you suck on my fingers for the last 45 minutes without saying a word, giving you plenty of opportunity to recognize what you were doing and to apologize for being so fucking selfish, for leading me on if this isn't what you wanted to come of it. You just don't know when to stop. So now I want you to understand that the world doesn't revolve around you, and if you're gonna do these things, then it's time you learn that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Now you have to pay for what you've already enjoyed from me. It's only fair."

V unbuttoned my shirt and disconnected the handcuffs from one another, still leaving my wrists confined to their biting metal restraints. He pulled my top off, one sleeve at a time, and as he did, he grinned at me with the most satisfied sneer I'd seen in years. I tried for a moment to ask him what he was intending to do, but as soon as I began to question him, the metal pieces that held my mouth firmly open reminded me that I did not have that power. I wonder if perhaps he'd have been benevolent enough to spare me the gag had I been more considerate about talking too much beforehand. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit loquacious, and I've been known to drone on and on pretty endlessly, especially when I lose my train of thought which happens all too often. But is this really the punishment I deserve? It seems a bit harsh; not that I'm in any position right now to determine what's "too harsh". In fact, I'm not really in a position to ... do anything. At all.

Cuffing the pairs of restraints back together behind me, V laid me down on my back. I began to wiggle away from him as he began to unbutton my pants, but anything more than a half-hearted fantasy of escape was futile. He pulled them off me, underwear and all, in just one tug, and then he pulled out a small rope and two more pair of cuffs from his stash of tools that he had so cleverly concealed in his blanket. I'd wanted him to share that blanket. Now I suppose he's doing just that, but I'm not the least bit content with it. Who the fuck does he think he is? He cuffed each ankle and then tied one end of the rope to my left ankle's cuffs. He tossed the short rope under the couch on which we were sitting, pulled it up over the back, and tied the other end off on the cuffs attached to my right ankle, spreading my legs just apart enough to have access between them with no possibility of preserving my modesty.

Gene's eyebrows lifted only slightly. I couldn't tell if he already knew what was in store or not, but it was obvious that he was eager to watch my future unfold.

"Alright, I think that's about all the setup work that needs to be done. Are you ready for what you're about to get, little one?" his endearing grin asked of me. "I promise it'll be fun. Perhaps it'll even help you understand why you can't just go around expecting guys to treat you how you want to be treated without doing the same in return. Just think of this as a learning experience — a lesson in positive punishment."

Fuck Intro to Psychology. And fuck V for having obviously gotten a better grade in it than I did.

With that, he began to slide his forefinger into my sopping wet pussy. Then two. Then three. I know he could sense the fear from that moment building up in my head just as the pressure from his hand was building up in my cunt. But it's not like there was a damn thing I could do to stop him. He started out much more mildly than he did the last time he raped me. That treacherous episode was a bit painful, an all around unimpressive display of his novice abilities. He's gotten better with practice, it seems, despite that I'm far too tight to be taking his whole fist inside me after this episode of abstinence I've been enduring. For a moment, I began to wonder with whom he might have been practicing. That distraction didn't survive for long.

I felt his fingers pressing hard against my insides, tickling nerves I forgot I had, and sending spectacular jolts of erotic pleasure throughout my body in no time at all. I laid there, wanting desperately to close my legs together, to dull the sensations I was experiencing, to make the overwhelming waves of sensation cease. I was afforded no such privilege.

"Uuuuuunnngh!" I grunted, hoping that he'd let me loose and stop building me up for what I knew was going to be a tough ride. The more I watched him through pleading eyes, the more he grinned with great satisfaction. He pulled his thick fingers out, and I began to breathe a small sigh of relief until I tasted myself dripping onto my tongue.

Of course it would happen that he'd take advantage of my hinged-open mouth to clean my stickiness off him! Under the circumstances, there was no sucking that could be done — only the slow process of licking my tangy juices off his fingers one by one. I lapped myself up from his skin, thankful I'd elected to have that Inta Juice smoothie for dinner last night rather than fish and chips. The given situation was made a bit more pleasant by the fact that I actually somewhat enjoyed my own taste this time.

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