Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Raping Michael, Part 2 "Vendetta" by Wifey (C)November 2001 email:
februarywife@hotmail.com





   Michael's hard-on throbbed beneath my ass; I tried to shift, but he just
pressed me down harder against his lap.  He had wrenched my corset strings
so tight that I felt a little faint as he glowered down at me.

   "You know, you really didn't have to go through all this trouble"
Michael said, voice still a little surly, his hands roaming over me,
dipping here, caressing there, tweaking here.  I tried to be stoic but
found myself involuntarily shivering from his callous administrations of
pleasure and pain, hating myself for being so incompetent, for being so
easily duped.  It was infuriating and humiliating to be manipulated like
that...but worse, he terrified me, and all the savage threats he had
teasingly whispered months ago echoed through my mind.  I was in way, way
over my head.

   I didn't know Michael that well personally.  I hadn't considered the
consequences, or even the possibility that something could go wrong.  I had
fucked up.

   But gods, that hour I spent taking him while he raged against the
chair...

   "I've wanted you forever," I blurted out, looking right into his eyes. I
felt sudden, inexplicable tears, suprising myself.  "You teased me,
when...when you had nothing better to do.  Then you ignored me."

   Michael's eyebrows lifted slightly, considering.  "I had no idea you
were even interested.  Why didn't you just ask me out?" He put his hands in
my hair, grasping thick fistfuls, and I half-raised myself and snuggled
into his strong, naked chest.  He let me remain there as I sighed in spite
of myself, loving the masculine scent of him.  "If you had worn these boots
that night at the bar, I would have been stalking you for months already."

   "Really?" I sniffled, then arched back, toes pointed, to show off the
full glory of my tall, black, lacy boots.  Michael's eyes were approving of
my impromptu exhibition.  Heart pounding, I stretched to display myself
immodestly, parted my thighs slightly to capture his attention, lifted my
arms prettily above my head, and- godhelpme- covertly made two fast and
thankfully accurate jabs at the call button.  One push meant I needed
Debby, and two pushes were supposed to signal that I wanted both Debby and
Pedro to come down and play.  My heart sank as I felt Michael's tension,
his whole body changing beneath me...he had caught me, and I cringed as his
expression changed instantly from appreciation to betrayal.

   Michael jumped to his feet, spilling me rudely to the floor.  He grabbed
my arm, bent it backwards, and started jerking me across the room.

   "Why, _you_little_bitch_" he spat beneath his breath.  He scanned the
room and beelined for the tray full of Debby's toys, plucked a black riding
crop from the assortment and hissed it through the air with one menacing
strike, looking at me purposefully as it whistled just a few inches from my
face.  I shuddered, feeling the breeze in its wake.  When the door opened
at the top of the stairs, Michael tossed down the crop and put his hand
over my mouth, twisting my arm a little harder and making it clear that
he'd break me like a toothpick if I made a sound.

   Debby, now decked out in white stilettos, stockings, and a
champagne-lace thong teddy, kept her eyes on the steps as she daintily
picked her way down.  Her blonde hair was styled to frame her face, her
make-up was artfully done, and she was obviously lost in pleasant thoughts
of the activities ahead.  She didn't see us right away; the room was
well-lit but strewn with shadows, and Michael had pulled us back towards
the cabinets that were presumably full of more equipment.  As she rounded
toward us, I prayed that Pedro would enter before Debby came too close.

   Without warning, Michael dropped me and reached Debby in two strides,
grabbing her arms and handcuffing her hands behind her back with the fluid
expertise of someone who'd done this many times before.  I made a dash for
the stairway but never really had a chance...not in those boots.  Michael
caught up to me in a half-second, tripped me with ease, and sent me
sprawling gracelessly on my face.  I slowly turned my head and found Debby
a few feet to my left; she was positively fuming with indignation.

   She looked at me pointedly and then gazed back up to the stairs,
silently indicating that Pedro was getting ready to join us.  Hope
fluttered in my chest: any moment, Pedro would sneak up, suprise Michael,
and rescue us.  Debby took the lead in distracting Michael by licking her
lips and thrusting her perfect breasts forward, feigning a futile struggle
against the handcuffs.  It was obvious to me that Debby never switched
roles with her playthings-- her submissive act was pathetic.

   "Oh, please, let me go, let me go" she squealed, panting somewhat
extravagantly.

   Michael's feet came into view beside my face, and then he helped me up--
by my hair.

   "Let's see how you like the chair, Sweetie" he said, pulling me towards
it.  I gulped hard, nauseated with fear at the idea of being strapped into
that contraption.  I brainstormed hastily, certain that grovelling would
only make the situation worse.

   "Couldn't I play with Debby instead?" I suggested.  He stopped in his
tracks.

   "You want her?  You like women?"

   I nodded yes, making a show of looking her over, feeling a little
annoyed that Michael was so typically male that way.  I had never touched
another woman before, never seriously contemplated it.  I had always been
too busy chasing men.

   "Because I'm an idiot" I muttered to myself, ruefully.

   "What did you say?" Michael asked.  His cock was at full attention.  I
knew that by this time, after hours of frustrated teasing, his need to cum
would outweigh all his other senses.

   "Umm, I said she hates lesbians." I improvised, pandering to what I
hoped might be his favorite fantasy.  Michael and I were fundamentally
alike, after all...we both got off on the resistance.  "We kinda talked
about that once-- she wanted nothing to do with me."

   Debby, right on cue, started begging "No" and squirming around on the
floor.  Her performance embarrassed me, but Michael apparently didn't
notice the bad acting.  He wrestled me towards her, smacking me
not-so-lightly on the ass when I tried to stall.  Debby started wailing,
fake tears not even messing up her mascara, but she wasn't loud enough to
cover the sound of Pedro thumping eagerly down the stairs.

   Pedro had freshened up since I last saw him battling Michael into the
bondage chair.  He had changed into a white silk shirt that bloused above
the sleeves, making his shoulders look broader.  It was unbuttoned down to
the waist, contrasting handsomely with his dark skin, and his black leather
pants were so tight that I could see his balls trapped beneath them.  I
winced, knowing Michael would immediately realize that Pedro had dressed
for sex...with *him*.

   Pedro skidded to a halt about eight feet away from us, his jaw dropping
as his face paled.

   "Well helloooo, Pedro" Michael chanted brightly, a bone-chilling glint
in his eyes.  "I was wondering- are you really Puerto-Rican?  For some
reason I always thought 'Pedro' was more of a Mexican name."

   Pedro was quaking, probably fearing for his life, as Michael advanced
toward him with one hand still entwined in my hair.  I could feel Michael's
hostility, saw the veins pulsing from his neck, every cell in his body
preparing for battle.  Pedro's eyes met mine for an instant, and I mouthed
one desperate word: HELP.  I could only imagine what he was thinking; the
bruises he acquired from "working" with Michael earlier that morning were
still darkening in color.

   The next thing I heard was the sound of Pedro's boots turning and
sliding frantically across the floor, like puppy toenails racing through a
kitchen, and then he was taking the stairs up by two's.  Michael snickered,
and Debby's out-of-character "FUCKING COWARD!!" gave us away.  Michael's
face was smug.

   "I could go up and crush him, but I've got better things to do." With
his free hand, he picked Debby off the floor by the hair also, and dragged
her into the bondage chair.  Shackling her in was an easy one-hand job,
too-- the chair was designed for easy restraint and release.  He took the
handcuffs from Debby and locked them on me, my wrists behind my back
uncomfortably.  Still, not being the one in the chair, I didn't feel it was
appropriate to complain.

   Michael noticed me watching the stairway.

   "What are you hoping for?  The police?" Michael sneered at me,
humorless. "They don't typically 'rescue' ladies in distress like yourself,
not from such good, clean, fun."

   I was manhandled to my knees in front of Debby, with Michael's cock
brushing against my cheek.  I turned to lick him, wanting to regain
control, but he roughly pushed my face between her legs.  The crotch of her
teddy was spandex, molded to her shape and so narrow that it barely
concealed her.  I looked up at her face in dismay, waiting for Michael to
shove me into her, but instead he commanded me not to move and strode away
again.

   I turned my head slightly to steal a peek, considering escape, but he
shouted "DON'T!" from across the room.  My scalp burned from the way he
yanked my hair, my arms ached behind me, my chin hurt from my
face-fall...so I froze, obeying.

   Debby's eyes travelled with him, her expression changing from anger to
fear.  She was a full-fledged Dominatrix; I remembered how she had talked
about the instruments she used when I first met her, how she had laughed
about the ways to really inflict terror on a sub.  She had suprised me a
bit with her apparent contempt; she despised her subs, used them
cold-heartedly, but was convinced that breaking them was what they truly
wanted.  I was impressed; I wanted that same emotional freedom, but never
felt strong enough.  I had asked her if she had ever let herself be in a
submissive position; "Never" was her haughty reply.

   Michael returned and stood behind Debby.  The color drained from her
face as I wondered what she had seen.  She tilted her head and looked up at
him, her voice soft and genuine this time, saying "Please, don't..." but he
threw a harness over her face and began working the buckles, squeezing her
cheeks so heard that she opened her mouth as he shoved something inside.

   "This, Carol, is how you properly use an O-gag", Michael explained to me
as he deftly tightened the last strap.  "Since you were wondering about it
earlier, I thought you might like to see it modelled."

   His eyes fell on the scissors beside me on the floor...the scissors I
had used to cut away his clothing earlier.

   "So, bitch," he asked Debby, "should I use the scissors, or should I rip
the crotch off your outfit with my teeth?"

   Debby whimpered, her eyes wild and imploring.

   "I'll do it," I volunteered, leaning sideways toward the scissors with
my cuffed hands.  Michael kicked them away, the clattering noise making me
jump, and then his hand gripped the back of my neck.

   "Fine.  But use your teeth.  You have one minute, or I'm strapping you
onto that rack over there."

   The Rack.  That was what I had dreamed about shackling Michael to,
before I had known about the chair.  Perhaps my obsession with such
equipment had to do with my fear of it; the very idea of being restrained
into something like that was unbearable to me.  Without further hesitation,
I pressed my mouth against the crotch of her teddy, trying carefully to
grasp it with my teeth.

   The material was smooth, but stretched so tautly over her pussy that the
edges bit into her folds, giving me no slack to work with.  And I didn't
want to hurt her.  Gingerly, I nibbled the lacy elastic edges, tasting her
in the process.  My head was turned almost completely sideways as I
painstakingly tried to lift the edge away from her flesh and clamp down on
the spandex.

   Too fucking tight.

   "45 seconds" Michael said, clearly enjoying this.

   I nuzzled my teeth under the crotch, bit down, tugged, and tugged
harder. Debby helpfully spread her thighs as far apart as she could to give
me a little more room.  She was shaking hard as I kept losing the edge,
trying different angles, and tugging again.  It stretched a few stubborn
inches back, then slipped suddenly and snapped loudly against her,
off-centered, with a force that made her cry out.  Her pussy was now
half-covered, and the material was wet from my mouth, clinging to her.  I
couldn't help noticing that she was freshly shaven, and I wondered if it
made her more sensitive.

   "25 seconds" Michael croaked hoarsely.

   I pressed my face into the middle of her crotch, sucking hard, working
the material into my mouth, and peeled it back a few inches from her flesh
as delicately as I could manage.  Then I chewed it furiously with only my
front teeth, twisting it, and was rewarded with a small tearing sound.  It
slipped from between my teeth and whipped back again, making her jump.  I
realized guiltily that losing the elastic like that was the equivalent of
snapping a rubber-band right at her clit.

   "10 seconds."

   I stuck my tongue into the salty rip, brought it up against my teeth,
and jerked my head back with all the strength I could muster.  Nothing.  I
pressed my whole face into her pussy, bit onto the material as hard as
possible, and threw my entire body back with all the force I could muster.
Debby screamed beneath the gag, more from fear than pain, and I found
myself tumbling backward against my painfully cuffed arms and bent legs, a
tatter of torn spandex in my mouth.  I struggled up to see that Debby was
exposed now, her pussy glistening, draped coyly with just a few ragged
edges of material pointing to her sex.

   Michael put his hand on the nape of my neck and pushed my face back into
her, trying to instruct me but so overcome with lust that he was completely
incoherent.  I glanced up in time to see him grab her hair with his free
hand and ram his cock into her helpless, open mouth.  Her whole body
convulsed, and I could hear her choking as he assaulted her.

   "Don't stop" he warned me huskily, still pumping her face but looking
down at what I was doing.  Reluctantly, I stuck my tongue out and started
licking her, noticing that her pussy lips were dark pink, puffy, and very
slick with more than just the wetness from my tongue.  Even as she gagged
on his cock, I realized she was on the brink; the muscles rippled in her
thighs, and the palms of her hands pounded down on the chair.  I could hear
the strangled screams vibrate through her body, but the hot moisture
trickling from within her gave her away.  Intrigued, I licked upwards from
her umbre little rosebud to her soft, quivering nub, starting to enjoy the
way her restrained hips moved towards me against her own volition.  Just as
she was about to cum, Michael violently yanked my head away from her and
ruthlessly jammed his cock deep into her face, all the way up to his balls,
forcing her to gurgle and sputter as he shot a load against the back of her
throat.

   I watched, mesmerized and livid with jealousy, as Michael's massive body
pounded into her strangled cries, his rhythm slowing to a grind as he spent
himself.  I had imagined the power of his climax, possibly imagined it
every waking hour over the past few months...but it was supposed to happen
with his captive body beneath me as I rode his straining cock, listening to
him beg.  Instead, I was forced to watch him waste it on this weak, wanton
bitch.

   It was supposed to have been mine.

   "Oh...fuck...me" Michael groaned, staggering back, finally sated.  It
was Debby who remained in the tortured state of *almost* cumming; and it
would be a lie to say I wasn't glad to see her like that, a wad of cum
dripping down her chin, her legs splayed open and twisting slightly in the
chair, craving.

   I trembled, feeling more and more cheated and more and more angry. 
Michael was relaxing, leaning upright against the chair, blissful and
handsome.  I rose to my feet and pressed my face against his, nuzzling my
skin against his cool sweat, trying in vain to calm myself, my heart
screaming tantrums and shredding itself into pointy little shards.

   "Get me the strap-on" I said, my voice low and tremulous.  He opened his
eyes without moving, distrusting me.  We looked at each other for a long
moment, sized each other up, each of us coming to a slow, intrinsic
understanding of the other.  I breathed deeply, willing myself not to cry,
and Michael politely looked away, then made his way to the toy tray and
back.  I was suprised when he bent behind me and unlocked the cuffs; he
took my hands and rubbed my wrists softly before inviting me to step into
the strap-on.  He did it with gusto and elegance, like a gentleman helping
a lady into a fur coat before the opera.

   Michael adjusted it, making sure it was comfortably snug on my waist. 
He turned me unexpectedly towards him and kissed me, consoling, my fake
black cock pressed between us.  That he recognized my fury only made it
worse.

   Debby watched this transaction, her eyes wary and accusing, her mouth
still forced open with the O-gag.  I smelled the thick musk of her heat as
I approached her, and taunted her with a smile, knowing she was about to
become what she most despised...and I was about to transform into the woman
that had, until now, eluded me.

   "Wait", Michael whispered.  He shakily opened all the cabinets,
rummaging fast and clumsily, and returned with a treasure: long, shiny,
black leather gloves.  The final touch.  I pulled them on, thinking that
Debby really did have exquisite taste.  They fit tightly right above my
elbows, glossy and sinister.

   Half-Japanese but exactly 5'10", I had always resented the
Asian-submissive expectation.  But catching myself in the mirror, I stopped
and took inventory...my dark hair cascaded beneath my shoulders, my pale
skin was sheened with perspiration, and my eyes looked different-- fierce,
perhaps, and confident.  The boots and tight corset outlined my body,
making me look even taller, my curves more accentuated.  I glimpsed
Michael's eyes in the mirror, the way he was looking at me, admiring, and I
suddenly felt...powerful.  I reveled for a moment in his gaze and the
strength of my femininity before turning on my prey.

   "You mentioned that the O-gag is good for blowing a strap-on, nosh?" I
straddled her, still standing, drawing over her entire face with the tip of
the dildo like an exuberant child with a magic marker.  I delighted in the
thought of how her jaws must ache and how her tongue must be swollen from
Michael's brutal assault.  Her eyes confirmed: oh, how desperately she
wanted to avoid gagging again.

   "Do you want to suck it now, or after I've fucked you in the ass?" I
asked sweetly.  She blanched, nostrils flaring, head shaking.  Begging.

   Begging.

   I reached down and shoved a gloved finger deep into her pussy; it slid
in smoothly and she arched, moaning, head still twisting vehemently from
side to side.

   "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," I cooed, then wiped my
dripping finger with slow deliberation on her tongue, tickling the roof of
her mouth before exiting.  "Hypocrite."

   I could see Michael in the mirror, his cock hardening again, so I
motioned for him to assist me.

   "Bend her over, please" I said, business-like.

   Michael and I had tremendous fun experimenting with the bondage chair.
Press a couple buttons on the left, and her legs started to lift above her
head, spreading conveniently, but forcing her to double-over so severely
that I couldn't apply the nipple clamps.  Obviously, that wouldn't do.  The
blue button with the unhelpful squiggly icon rotated her like a pig at a
pork roast; delicious, but not very practical.  The mysterious red button
dropped the seat off the chair, allowing full access to her vulnerable
pussy.  Just what I needed.  With a few more adjustments, we had her feet
an inch off the floor, legs spread into a wide V, her head upside down
between her shackled ankles.  Bent at the waist over the lovely midsection
bar, her ass and pussy dangled enticingly.  I let Michael have the honor of
snipping away her lacy golden teddy, leaving her only in stockings and
heels.

   "You look enchantingly submissive", I complimented, pinching her butt.
Michael brought the toy tray to me as I pushed the tip of my boot into her
mouth.  Her eyes were huge, and wet with real tears.  Stepping back, I
decided it was time to get to work.

   "Nipple clamps" I said, and Michael handed them to me.  "Nipple clamps,"
he repeated, quite the doctor's helper.  I smiled at his efficiency before
bending down to fasten them on.  They had clasps that screwed in; I felt it
was best to attach them as securely as possible.  Debby's breasts were full
but perky, her nipples like baby-pink half-dollars.  The way she whined
when I screwed the clamps on told me she was very, very sensitive; of
course, I bungled the first few attempts, since I had to put them on
upside-down.

   "Purple dildo" I ordered.  Debby whimpered in despair, horrified. 
"Purple dildo" Michael acknowledged, skillfully untangling the cords before
placing the shaft in my hands.  It was battery operated, attached to a
controller with five different settings.  But that's not why I chose it; I
chose it for its size.

   Nine full inches, and thick as my forearm, it was carefully sculpted to
resemble the real thing-- only bigger.  It rotated at the base, with an
angled top that would roll against every inch of her pussy when we turned
the device on.

   "Fire it up", I commanded.

   "Yes, Ma'am" Michael obliged, mocking me a little.  It buzzed to life,
pulsing and spinning slowly.

   "Lube" I said, mouth watering.  Debby's suspended ass was quivering, her
legs cramping from the severity of her position-- I knew that not even a
14-year-old cheerleader could be expected to hold that pose for long.

   Michael passed me the bottle, which was nearly empty.  He then perused
through the cabinets and returned, empty-handed, shrugging his magnificent
shoulders, his smile wicked.

   "Debby, darling!  I paid you fifteen hundred dollars and you're OUT of
lube?" I squatted down to her face; she was red from being upside-down, her
carefully styled hair now matted with sweat.  Her dread was almost
palpable. "Such a travesty.  I'm going to have to punish you, you know."
Michael nudged me then, turquoise eyes laughing at me.

   "Fifteen hundred, huh?" he asked.  I think I actually blushed.

   Composing myself with a deep breath, I accepted the riding crop that
Michael so considerately proffered.  It had a decorative leather tassel on
the end, which I playfully tickled up and down her exposed and sopping
crack.

   "Do I get a refund, Debby?" She nodded vigorously, eyes wide.  I pushed
the tasseled end of the crop into her pussy and then wiped it down the back
of her leg.  She was drenched.

   Without further ado, I crammed the huge purple dildo into her cut,
enjoying the resistance that I met every half-inch.  Debby was sobbing, her
body writhing and heaving as I forced it in, sometimes withdrawing it a
little before reaming forward again.  I told Michael to turn it up, and he
increased the speed of the rotation until it was whirring inside of her,
the buzzing muted by her cunt, only the corpulent base protruding from her
torturously stretched opening.

   I needed to fuck her, then; I was shaking as I lubed up my strap-on, my
vision unclear, rage and lust discoloring the scene before me.  She was
beautiful, helpless, open, and had stolen (albeit against her will) what I
had wanted most...half-blind, I fumbled for her asshole and heard her
high-pitched shrieks as I penetrated first with my slick, leather-clad
fingers, loving her smallness and the tightness of her muscles.  I bent and
kissed the middle of her back, sucking her soft skin into my mouth, before
I guided my cock in with one slippery hand, wishing it were real, wishing I
could feel the inside of her as I plundered her ass.

   I don't remember when Michael knelt in front of me; I was rocking back
and forth, hypnotized at the sight of my strap-on gliding in and out of her
tiny, puckered hole when I noticed his very wet tongue lapping at my clit.
He was directly beneath me, his hands holding my sex apart, and as I
reached down to grab his hair I came, explosively, raping her hard as I
spasmed against Michael's face.

   He held me when I collapsed, giant arms engulfing me, and I remember
shuddering as wave after wave of hot chills crashed over me.  He cradled to
me to the floor tenderly, a worshipful lover, and I put my arms around his
neck as I prepared to receive him, whispering his name, requiring him.  I
put my hands on his huge, powerful shoulders, my eyes half-closed, then
fluttering wide open.

   Pedro and his two strong compadres were standing over us, smiling.
   (to be continued)