The Surprise

I sat there, stunned and naked, as Wendy finished securing Christie's limbs to the dining room table. Satisfied, she walked to the front door, her hips swaying with a confident, predatory grace. She opened it to reveal her roommate, and I was pleasantly surprised. The woman was tall and willowy, with a shock of short, fiery red hair that framed a face full of mischief.

"Sue! So glad you could make it," Wendy said, pulling her into a quick, casual hug.

Stepping into the dining room, Sue’s eyes swept over the scene before her. A slow, appreciative smile spread across her lips. She was clearly already briefed, completely unfazed by the tableau of my ex-wife, naked and bound. "Well now," Sue purred, her voice a low, smoky alto. "Looks like I'm right on time. I'd hate to have missed the main course."

"Your timing, as always, is impeccable," Wendy remarked. "Did you get the supplies?"

Sue shook the paper bag she was carrying, the sound promisingly crinkly. "Oh, I got what you asked for. And a few other things I thought might come in handy." Her gaze flickered from Wendy to me, then down to Christie. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... friends?"

Wendy gestured lazily in my direction. "This is Jeremy, my favorite pilot. And the object on display," she said, patting Christie's trembling thigh, "is his little slut and poor cock-sucker of a wife, Christie."

I rose, feeling no awkwardness whatsoever, and extended a hand to Sue. "It's a pleasure." The absurdity of the moment was not lost on me. Here I was, having a casual introduction in the middle of my dining room, completely naked, while my ex writhed on a hardwood table like a sacrifice. Christie, buck naked, spread-eagled, and silenced with a thick strip of duct tape, was the only one who seemed to find the situation alarming. Just another Tuesday, I suppose for the two Dominatrix.

Sue's grip was firm. She shook my hand, then glanced at Christie's struggling form. "Oh, don't get up on my account, dear," she said with a wink. She opened her bag and produced a tub of whipped cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup, handing them to Wendy. "I'll be right back," she added, turning to me. "Mind if I use your bathroom, Jer?"

I nodded, pointing the way, and turned my attention back to Wendy. She had already unscrewed the cap from the whipped cream and was dispensing a cold, white cloud onto Christie's stomach. Christie twitched violently, a sharp gasp muffled by the tape. I couldn't tell if it was from the shock of the cold or the sheer humiliation, but either way, it was captivating. Her eyes were wide with panic, her muffled whimpers completely useless. Wendy worked with an artist's focus, covering most of Christie's exposed skin in a thick, sweet layer. She paid special attention to her nipples, capping them with perfect white peaks, and then generously filled the valley between her wide-spread legs.

"May I help?" I asked, my voice thick.

"You can do the finishing touches," Wendy replied, handing me the bottle of chocolate syrup. I popped the cap and began to drizzle the dark, sticky liquid over her body. I took my time, treating her like the most decadent dessert imaginable. I drew delicate swirls over the whipped-cream-covered mounds of her breasts, then traced sticky rivers down the length of each limb. I finished by creating a deep, dark puddle right in her pussy, watching as the syrup oozed down her supple skin, leaving intricate, dark patterns. Her sensual, helpless wriggling only made the presentation more exquisite.

Just then, I heard the soft pad of bare feet on the hardwood. Sue returned, having shed her clothes. She stood before us in her birthday suit, and I had to admire the view. She was all lean lines and long limbs, standing about five-foot-ten without an ounce of spare flesh on her. Her breasts, however, were surprisingly large and impossibly pert, defying gravity with a youthful perkiness. Her legs were long and toned. I had to admit, Wendy had exceptional taste in women.

Sue eyed Christie, who was wiggling deliciously on the table. "Is our dessert ready yet?" she asked, her voice dripping with hungry anticipation.

"I think so," Wendy observed, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Why don't we all dig in?"

As one, we converged on the table where my helpless wife lay, a masterpiece of confectionery and flesh. Her tan skin was a canvas for the white cream, the dark chocolate syrup artfully highlighting the peaks and valleys of her form. I started at her ankles, licking the sweet, cool whipped cream from her legs. The taste was a delicious contrast of sugar and skin. It must have tickled, because Christie began to thrash violently, the tight bonds the only thing keeping her from bucking right off the table. I slowly licked my way up, savoring every inch, until I found myself at her drenched pussy. Despite the humiliating circumstances, or perhaps because of them, she was undeniably aroused; her juices were flowing freely, mixing with the chocolate. The combination of tastes—her salt, the cream's sweetness, the chocolate's bitterness—was an intoxicating assault on my senses. Absolutely delicious.

I paused to look up. Wendy and Sue had taken up positions on either side of Christie's torso, meeting in the middle. Each had one of Christie's whipped-cream-capped breasts in her mouth, sucking and licking with unrestrained abandon. Their faces and hands were soon smeared with a messy mixture of cream and chocolate. Then, they looked at each other over Christie's heaving chest and began to lick the sweet mess from each other's faces, their tongues meeting in a deep, messy kiss. It was an incredible sight: two gorgeous, naked women, covered in dessert, locked in a passionate embrace right over my wife's bound, heaving body.

And heaving it was. My tonguing her pussy and the girls' expert attention on her tits were clearly driving her wild. She thrashed as much as her restraints would allow, her slick pussy lips fluttering open beneath my face. Her chest strained for air, and a constant stream of frantic, muffled noises escaped from behind the tape.

Just as I bent back down to continue my feast on Christie's tight little cunt, Wendy's hand shot out, stopping me. She looked at Sue, who gave her a quizzical glance. "She was a bad little whore earlier," Wendy explained, her voice cold. "Couldn't even manage a decent blowjob. I don't think she's earned an orgasm yet."

A slow, sly grin spread across Sue's thin, sensual lips. "Well, as it happens, I brought something else with me." She picked up the discarded paper bag and reached deep inside, pulling out something long and purple.

Wendy's smile widened. "Aha, you think of everything, dear. You brought my favorite toy. Let me put it on."

"Oh no," Sue countered with a playful smirk. "You've been having all the fun. It's my turn. You're just so greedy sometimes!"

"Okay, you're right. At least let me help you." With that, Wendy took the purple toy from Sue, and they moved to the same side of the table. Now I could see it clearly: the purple toy was, in fact, a ten-inch-long rubber dildo. Not only that, but it had a harness attached.

"Aha, a strap-on," I said aloud. "I've seen one in the flesh before... or should I say, in the rubber. Wendy introduced me to hers." This earned a chuckle from both women.

While Sue made a few final adjustments to her new appendage, Wendy moved to the table and untied Christie's hands. She motioned for me to do the same with her legs. Working together, we flipped her over onto her stomach. She was either utterly spent from her oral ordeal or simply resigned to her role as a piece of meat at our mercy, because Christie didn't fight us at all. Wendy quickly retied her hands behind her back, and we pulled her off the wet, sticky tabletop.

We led her to the kitchen, and I had to smile at the bizarre, erotic procession. Wendy, naked and in command, guided my captive wife, who was still smeared with half-eaten whipped cream and chocolate. I followed with Sue, both of us sporting impressive erections—only hers was bigger than mine and a vivid, commanding purple. It was an amazing, sexy, and utterly surreal parade through my normally mundane house.

In the kitchen, Wendy pulled out a tall bar stool and bent Christie over it face down. With her stomach resting on the padded seat, Wendy tied her ankles to the stool's wooden legs. "Have at her, sweetie," Wendy said to her roommate, delivering a loud, stinging smack to Christie's ass cheek. "She's all yours!"

"You're so thoughtful," Sue purred. "You remembered my favorite position." She moved up behind Christie, who was straining to look back over her shoulder, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Sue took the long purple dildo in her hand, positioned its head against Christie's swollen, slick lips, and with a single, brutal thrust, fed that monster into her gaping pussy.

A muffled scream tore from Christie's throat as her back arched in a painful arc, only to collapse forward as Sue completed the invasion of her innermost flesh. Sue gripped Christie's hips and began to thrust that purple monster again and again, setting a relentless, punishing rhythm.

Pulling Christie's head up by a fistful of her hair, Wendy snarled, "Okay, whore. Last time, you gave a piss-poor performance sucking Jeremy's cock. I'm giving you one more chance. Do a good job, and don't you dare spill a drop, or you know what will happen, don't you?"

Christie mumbled something unintelligible, but she nodded her head as best she could. Wendy grabbed the edge of the duct tape and ripped it off in one savage motion. Still hard as a rock, I moved to Christie's head and raised it with both hands. She obediently opened her mouth and took my shaft into her abused throat.

Sue was still going to town, her purple invader buried to the hilt, her hips thrusting with powerful, athletic strokes. Christie was caught in the middle of a vigorous game of push-me, pull-you. She gagged on my meat with every one of Sue's forward thrusts, but she tried her best to suck, to please, to survive.

Meanwhile, Wendy moved around to Sue and began to kiss her hard on the lips. They were locked in a furious embrace, tongues dueling, while Sue continued her merciless onslaught of Christie's pussy. One of Sue's hands roamed Wendy's body, squeezing her breast, while the other held tight to Christie's bound wrists. Every time Sue slammed that huge toy into my ex-wife's snatch, it jammed my prick deep into the innermost recesses of Christie's throat. Oh my god, I couldn't believe it, I was going to come again. Three times in one morning. I could feel that familiar pressure growing deep within my balls as they tightened up, preparing to unload.

Wendy knew the signs. She could see I was on the verge. She stepped back and began spanking Christie's ass, hard and fast, with her open hand. The repeated, sharp cracks echoed in the kitchen, each one making Christie thrash wildly. With every loud smack, I could see the flesh of Christie's ass rebound from the impact, turning a bright, angry red.

I think Christie was cumming, too. Her body was convulsing as much as her bonds would allow, a helpless vessel being simultaneously and violently penetrated from both ends. I finally couldn't take it anymore. Gripping her head like handlebars, I plunged my hard member as far as it would go. Hitting the back of her throat, I unleashed my fluid into her mouth.

Arching my back and straining with all my might, I let out a guttural cry and gave one last, mighty pump of my hips. I could feel my seed shoot from my rod into Christie's throat, but my helpless ex-wife couldn't take it all. She began to cough and sputter, my cum leaking from the corners of her mouth and dripping onto the floor. I pulled out and basically fell backwards, spent. Christie slumped over the stool, a mess of spit, semen, and dessert topping.

Stretching back on the cool tile, feeling the immense waves of satisfaction roll through me, I looked up. Wendy moved over to squat down next to Christie's face. Putting a hand under her chin, she forced her head up to look straight into her eyes. "Dear, you really aren't very good at cocksucking, are you?" she said, her voice dark and commanding. "I guess we'll just have to keep this up all day until you get it right."

As Wendy moved around to take the strap-on from Sue and started buckling it into place, Christie just went completely limp over the barstool, a puppet whose strings had finally been cut.