Chapter 67: Pegging with a Side of Humiliation
The initial pressure was a blunt, impossible presence. Rupert gasped into the leather of the bench, his fingers curling against nothing. Then, with a slow, inexorable glide, it gave way, and the silicone slid deep into him. A sharp, shocking fullness chased away the resistance, leaving a profound and unfamiliar occupancy in its wake.
"God, Rupert," Margot breathed, her voice thick with wonder. She held herself there, buried to the hilt, her hands trembling on his hips. "Feel that?"
He could only manage a choked sound. It wasn't pain, not exactly. It was an overwhelming re-mapping of sensation, a takeover of a private geography. He felt stretched, claimed, utterly vulnerable.
Then she began to move.
Her first strokes were gentle, exploratory. Withdrawing almost completely, then pressing home again, each time a little smoother, a little deeper. The rhythm was a strange, internal massage, a pressure against places that made his knees weak and his breath catch. A low, involuntary groan escaped him.
"Hear that, Julia?" Margot called out, her voice gaining confidence with every thrust.
"A promising start," came the measured reply from the corner, a teacher assessing a pupil's technique.
Emboldened, Margot picked up the pace. The gentle rocking became purposeful drives. The harness straps creaked softly with her efforts. The slap of her thighs against his backside punctuated the wet, slick sounds of penetration, building a rhythm that was both clinical and deeply intimate.
Rupert's world narrowed to the bench, to the heat of his wife behind him, to the astonishing friction burning through his core. The initial shock melted, replaced by a gathering tightness in his groin. His own cock, trapped beneath him, was iron-hard and leaking onto the leather.
"You're taking it so well, darling," Margot panted, her curls sticking to her damp forehead. She leaned over his back, her breasts pressing against his sweat-slicked skin. Her breath was hot in his ear. "Thank you," she whispered, the words meant only for him now. "Thank you for letting me have my fun. For letting me feel... someone else. And thank you for playing along with Julia. For being in the gangbang." She nipped his earlobe. "My adventurous husband."
Each confession was a thrust. Each thrust was a confession.
Her movements became less measured, more urgent. The sensual possession tipped into a wilder claiming. She rode him with abandon, her grunts of effort mingling with his ragged moans. The bench rocked slightly on its feet.
"And at least," she gasped, driving into him with a force that made him see stars, "you didn't lose the silly contest! Poor Henry and Paolo, locked up in their little cages." She laughed, a breathless, giddy sound. "But you... you got to feel everything. You got to fuck Julia. And now..."
She reached underneath him, her hand finding his aching cock. The touch was electric, impossible. The dual sensation—her hand stroking him in time with her thrusts inside him—shattered any last semblance of control.
"Now you get me," she hissed, her voice a mix of love and fierce dominance. "But you know, it's funny..." She pumped him harder, her rhythm perfectly synchronized, a devastating circuit of pleasure. "This feels amazing, Rupert. So deep. But it's not quite... it's not the same as a real cock, is it? Not like his." She moaned, as if remembering. "The stretch was different. More... alive. He could feel me pulse around him when I came. Can you feel that, darling? Can you feel what he did to me?"
Her words were a violation more profound than the silicone. They were salt on a wound, jet fuel on a fire. They should have hurt. They did hurt. But they also, horrifyingly, ignited him. The image of her with another man, the scent of her infidelity that still clung to her skin, merged with the visceral reality of her taking him, owning him completely. The jealousy, the shame, the love, and the blinding physical ecstasy twisted into a single, white-hot wire.
"Margot," he begged, a broken sound.
"I know," she soothed, fucking him relentlessly. "I know. Let it go. Come for me, Rupert. Come for your wife."
The coil snapped.
His orgasm ripped through him not from his cock alone, but from the very core of his being, from that invaded, stimulated secret place deep inside. It was a tidal wave, unending, wrenching a raw, shout from his throat as he spilled over her fist and onto the bench beneath him. He shook, held upright only by the straps and her unwavering grip.
She followed him over, crying out as she ground against him, her own climax a series of sharp, shuddering waves that clenched around the toy buried within him, milking his own spasms into eternity.
Silence fell, heavy and spent, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing.
Slowly, carefully, Margot withdrew. The emptiness she left behind was cavernous. She unbuckled the straps with tender hands, her earlier ferocity gone. She helped him turn, to collapse onto the bench, then sat beside him, the harness and dummy cock looking absurd now between them. She pulled his head to her shoulder, stroking his hair.
Julia materialized from the shadows, holding two thick, soft towels. She handed one to Margot. "A sterling first effort," she said, her voice holding genuine approval. "The synchronization was particularly effective."
Margot laughed softly, wiping Rupert's chest with the towel. "He's always been a quick study."
Rupert could only breathe, his body humming, his mind a blank, grateful slate. The dungeon, the candles, the scent of sex and leather—it was all still there, but the edge had softened. He looked at his wife, really looked at her. The mischievous glint was back, but it was tempered by a soft, unmistakable pride.
"Alright, you two," Julia said, her business-like tone returning. "Five minutes to recuperate. Then we clean the equipment. And Rupert," she added, fixing him with a look, "we haven't even begun to explore your prostate. Georgina will be very interested in you." She turned and walked towards a curtained alcove, leaving the statement hanging in the air like a promise, or a threat.
Rupert met Margot's gaze. A slow, dazed smile touched his lips. He had no idea what came next, what other secrets this room, this village, his own wife held. But for the first time in a long time, he was desperately, terrifyingly eager to find out.