After

One month after the therapy session, Mr. and Mrs. Miller were still in bed, on what had become a typical morning. Robin was sucking hard on her husband's prick, doing her best to make her mouth a tight vacuum for him. He'd already cum this way twice this morning, and was still soft, but she was doing her very best to get him willing for a third round.

Two days after the therapy session, Robin and Michael had had a long talk about the future of their relationship. Robin had agreed very strongly that she had been extremely unfair to him, and the two had come up with a series of rules that she would follow from now on, in order to help make up for her past behavior. No punishment or consequence for breaking any of these rules was ever brought up by either of them, nor was there a need to. If the first session with Dr Taylor had not been enough, the second had ensured that Robin was very, very eager to show what a good wife she could be.

That session had occurred the very day after the first, when she had run away from home. She'd gone straight to the house of her best friend Molly and her husband, collapsed into their arms sobbing, and called the police. The two men who'd arrived several minutes later drove a police car and wore police uniforms, but once in the house they'd tasered all three of them, handcuffed them, and dragged them into the back of their car.

Robin had never seen the husband again. Molly she never saw in person, but her husband showed her a photo once that he claimed came from somewhere in South America. In it, a pretty woman with dead eyes was at the center of a gangbang, three men inside her and dozens more waiting their turn. It wasn't easy to recognize her best friend, what with her shaved hair, badly bruised face, and the obscene tattoos all over her body that advertised cheap holes in several different languages, but she managed.

Robin herself had been transported directly to Dr Taylor's office. As part of her repeat lesson, he had surgically inserted a tracking device into her back, without anesthetic of course. It was close enough to her spine that any attempt to dig it out herself was far more likely to result in permanent paralysis than anything else. Except when deactivated by her husband to take her out, the tracker would send an alert whenever she was more than a few feet away from her home.

It was an effective but completely unnecessary disincentive. Robin had come to a greater understanding of the world as she'd screamed and sobbed and shuddered through Dr Taylor's attentions. She'd realized that when you got right down to it, what was truly important in life wasn't beauty, or money, or even happiness. No, the most important thing in life was to never ever have to see Dr Taylor again. And the safest way to ensure was to be the best wife her husband could ask for.

Robin continued sucking on Michael's cock, even though it was clear that he wasn't going to be getting erect again any time soon. “Sorry, love,” he said eventually,” but I think that's all the sperm you get for now. Would you like to finish your breakfast?”

She nodded, her lips still wrapped around the base of his dick, and felt it twitch slightly before erupting with a hot spray of urine. Robin swallowed quickly, anxious not to let a drop escape.

The stream of piss went on for a minute before slowing to a trickle, and Robin finished by sucking the last few drops out of his urethra.

“Mmm,” she purred, trying not let the nausea show. “My love had such a delicious meal for me.”

Michael relaxed back on the bed, his head propped up by a pillow. “What would you like to do now, dear?”

Her mind worked, trying to think of the right answer. “I… I could play with myself.”

He gave her a teasing smile. “You could do that, or you'd like to do that?”

“I'd love to play with myself!” she corrected, mentally cursing herself for the mistake. “I'm such a stupid slut, I just get confused sometimes!”

Thankfully, he didn't follow up on the error, just settled into his position and motioned her to get started. Robin crouched on the bed, an uncomfortable position that gave him a good view, and tried not to wince as she began fingering her asshole. In the weeks since her obedience training with Dr. Taylor, her backdoor had been used frequently and roughly by her husband. She'd eagerly agreed with him that her pussy should only be used for special occasions from now on, and masturbation didn't qualify.

It didn't take long for her asshole to widen enough to fit three fingers. As her husband watched happily, she licked them clean and replaced them with the large black dildo he'd bought for her the other day. Her anus felt like it was about to rip in two, but she didn't let that stop the wide smile plastered across her face as she pumped herself vigorously.

She couldn't cum from stimulation like this, and they both knew it. Even if there was any pleasure in the rough reaming she was giving herself, he wouldn't permit her to cum. They'd decided that after all the withholding she'd done, it was only fair that he be the only one to orgasm for the foreseeable future. The only purpose of this masturbation farce were his amusement and her humiliation.

But that was okay, she reminded herself. It was all perfectly fine for him to treat her like garbage. He could hurt her, humiliate her, piss in her, whatever he wanted, as long as it made him happy. As long as it kept Dr Taylor away.

“You know, dear, I think I'm ready for another round after all,” Michael told her after several long minutes had passed, and she could see that he was correct, his stiffening dick rising to point at the ceiling.

“Wh-whatever you want, my love,” she managed, still fucking her own ass. “Your wife would be delighted to drink more of your delicious seed.”

“Nah,” he said flatly. “Enough of that for now. I wanna fuck your butthole some more.”

“How… how wonderful!” she said, and began pulling the dildo out of her.

“No no no,” he said at once. “I didn't tell you to take your toy out.”

“But…” she looked at him questioningly. “How am I…” His only answer was an eager grin.

Robin's face contorted with misery for a moment, before she forced the expression away and crawled closer to her husband. She crouched over him, both of her hands pulling at her cheeks, spreading herself as wide as she could. He slid off on the first few tries, but then she managed to get the head wedged in.

Robin let out a soft gurgle of pain as she sank down on her husband, her asshole stretching farther than it ever had to accommodate a second dick. She looked up at the ceiling, feeling as though she was about to be split in two.

“Something wrong, love?” Michael asked innocently. “I'm used to you bouncing for joy at getting your ass stuffed.”

Robin whimpered but obeyed, slowly swinging her hips up and down. The agony didn't so much lessen as it did became familiar, a constant presence that she could tolerate only because there was no other choice.

Meanwhile, her husband was moaning in pleasure, enjoying the incredible friction of her tortured guts. “Aww, yeah! I was worried you were starting to get loose back here, babe, but oh! You're so fucking tight like this!”

“Th-thank you dear,” Robin managed. “I… I love being able to please you… that's all I want…”

It didn't take long for his load to spurt inside her, not a drop of it escaping her plugged hole. Once he'd pulled out, she obediently cleaned him up with her mouth. The taste of her own asshole had become long familiar by now, if no less unpleasant.
“Leave your toy in there for now,” Michael told her. “I love the way you waddle while it's inside you. Perhaps next time I fuck your asshole, we'll see if having a second dildo in your cunt makes it even more fun.”

“That's a great idea,” she agreed, trying not to cry. “It makes me so happy when I can be a good fuck for my husband.”

“A good fuck?” he said skeptically. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear. Tight fuckholes or not, you've still got a long way to go before you're competent. Have you been slacking off on your practices?”

“No, my love,” Robin said. “I do them all day, just like you want.” They'd remodeled one of the guest rooms of the house into what he mockingly called her “exercise” room. While he was at work, she'd spend hours there watching selected pornography to study the kind of techniques he liked, and practicing them with the help of an assortment of dildos and other sex toys. A webcam set up in one corner allowed her husband to check in on her anytime without her knowing. If he spotted her absent or not practicing with enough enthusiasm, that would be grounds for punishment later.

Last week's theme had been bondage. She'd learned and executed a variety of self bondage techniques that had left her bound and helpless for the rest of the day, with nothing to do but smile into the webcam and wait to be used when Michael returned. The week before that had been titfucking, and the valley of her breasts was still red after hours and hours of use. She didn't know what this week's was going to be yet, only that it would be painful and humiliating and she would try her very best.

Michael grunted, as though he didn't quite believe her, but said nothing further. No doubt he'd be checking the stream more often than usual today, hoping to catch her slacking. He rose and started getting dressed, while she gingerly made her way to the kitchen, still naked. They'd agreed that all of her cosmetics, jewelry, and fancy clothes were just wastes of money, and everything she owned had been donated to charity. The closest thing to makeup Robin wore now was her husband's dried cum on her face, and the only jewelry she was allowed dangled from her clit and nipples. As for clothing, she was banned from wearing any in the house, and when they went out she only wore outfits that he had bought for her, indecent pieces that made her look more like his escort than his wife.

While her husband got ready for work, she prepared him a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs, just the way he liked them. He tore into the meal with gusto while she knelt in the corner, waiting for any further instructions.

“Any word from your sister?” he asked while polishing off his plate.

“Yes, love, I spoke to Nicole last night. She… she apologized again for falling asleep while she was over for dinner Tuesday.”

He sniggered. “I told you she wouldn't remember anything! Those roofies work like a charm. And wasn't she a damn good fuck. Did you enjoy sucking her pussy juice off my prick?”

“Y-yes, my love,” she answered obediently. “It was almost as delicious as your semen.”

“Good, good… you know what? Invite her over for the weekend. Convince her to bring her mutt over too. I want to see if I can get him to fuck her while she sleeps.”

“As you wish, my love,” she said weakly. “But, um, I think he's neutered.”

“Really? Damn!” He scowled, then brightened up. “Why don't I get us a dog then? Something big and furry.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Something that can keep you company during your lonely days without me.”

Robin's face drained. “Please… please don't make me have sex with a dog. Please, I'll do anything.”

Michael's smile vanished in an instant. “Did you just talk back to me?” he asked, his voice rough.

“No!” she said hurriedly. “No! No! I-I just… I wasn't thinking!” She crawled forward and began frantically kissing his feet. “I'll do whatever my love wants! I'll fuck dogs for you!”

Despite her protests, he pulled out his phone and began dialing. “Dr. Taylor, please.”

“Nooooo,” she whined. “Please! You don't have to do that! Give me a dog to fuck, please!”

She could dimly hear the voice on the other end. “Hello? This is Jonathan Taylor. With whom am I speaking?"

“This is Michael Miller. My wife needs another session.”

“Certainly, Mr. Miller. May I ask where she was lacking?”

“She didn't want to fuck a dog.”

“I do!!” Robin screamed, hoping she'd be heard through the phone. “I do want to fuck dogs!”

“Ahh, I understand.,” said Dr Taylor. “Now, I trust you are aware that your current payment plan does not cover additional sessions? There will be a fee required.”

“Yeah, don't worry. She's got a sister.”

“Excellent, excellent. I believe I can rearrange my schedule and be there within the hour. I will contact you later tonight to arrange the pickup.”

Michael ended the call, then looked down at Robin, still sobbing and licking his feet. “That's that, then. I never liked Nicole much anyway. Stuck up bitch.”

“M-me neither, my love,” Robin agreed, trying to wipe away her tears. “I, I hope Dr Taylor enjoys her.”

Her husband finished his breakfast, and got ready to leave. “Give the doctor my regards,” he said as he opened the front door. “And when I get home tonight, we'll put our heads together and see what new rules might make up for that outburst of yours.”

“That sounds wonderful, love,” Robin said, feeling like she was about to throw up.

It felt like no time at all passed before the door opened again, and the unassuming figure of Dr Taylor appeared, pulling a rolling suitcase behind him. He greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Miller. I believe we'll hold today's lesson in the kitchen, if you will.”

Robin moved numbly, allowing herself to be seated on a kitchen chair. Running or disobeying never even crossed her mind. She'd seen what he was capable of when in a good mood; the idea of what he might do to her if he was in a bad one was so horrifying that her head refused to even consider any action that might lead to it.

Dr Taylor set his suitcase down on the kitchen table, opened it, and withdrew several coils of rope, which he used to bind her arms and legs to the chair. Then he began to withdraw more items and place them on the table: a pair of needle nosed pliers, a long knotted strip of leather, the cattle prod, and many others. Robin watched silently as the collection of torture instruments grew. Each one felt more familiar than her own face by now. She knew exactly how they would be used, exactly why they would be used, and that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The last few items were new, and these he placed prominently on the table, where she could easily see them. First was a tightly coiled line of barbed wire. “This,” he said as he placed it, “will be for not being grateful at the opportunity for bestiality.” Next was a bottle of hot sauce. “This will be for questioning your husband's decision to request another session with me.” Next was a Phillips head screwdriver. “This will be for raising your voice while your husband was on the phone.”

Finally, he produced a small cylindrical object from the suitcase. He pressed a button on its side, and a small blue flame emanated from one end. He studied it for a moment, then nodded and closed the suitcase. Dr Taylor turned to her, blowtorch still in hand, and approached. “And this one will not be punishment,” he said, just before he began. “It is not because of any inappropriate action or flaw in your character. This, Mrs. Miller, I do simply because I can.”

Robin never required another session after that day, and the Miller marriage went on to last many more years.