"Mmm! Ohhh, Bob!" Emma mewled breathlessly as her husband entered her. "Okay, I'll be Tara again." She wriggled playfully in submission beneath his lustful physicality, preparing herself for the role that she was about to inhabit.

Bob grunted in approval and started to ease in and out of her yearning warmth.

Emma reached across sheets for the remote, and fired it at widescreen TV suspended above them, one of many strategically placed around the bedroom. The video resumed, the screen showing Bob purposefully advancing towards a young, skinny, blonde woman, 'Tara the Tart'. Already stripped naked, her eyes were fixed on the spiked club in Bob's hands. She wasn't screaming. Not yet. Just backing away towards the wall, with weak knees and a look of fearful disbelief on her face. She visibly jumped when the wall booped her ass, and found she could retreat no further.

"Oh noes!" cried Emma, giggling. "You got me!" She thrust her hips forward, mimicking the way the girl on the video had when startled by the wall. Then she kicked and twisted as Tara made a dash to the left.

"Urggh!" Bob moaned appreciatively. The couple never tired of watching this video, and each time they did, their impromptu choreography added a fresh dynamic. Interpretive dance had never been so much fun.

On screen Tara was too slow. She was spun around by a large hand on her shoulder, then the heavy club smooshed into her middle, spikes piercing deep into her soft belly.

A stunned expression crossed Tara's face as she suddenly realised it wasn't just some sick game of rough and tumble after all, but dreadful horror turned real.

"Fuck, you're serious!" she cried.

Emma stopped the video and laughed, much to the approval of Bob's dick. They always found this part hilarious.

Bob paused for a moment and looked down at his wife's mirthful eyes. "It's not like we didn't warn her!" he chuckled.

"I told her before!" Emma giggled. "We're gonna fuck you up, fuck you then turn you into fertilizer! It's so funny when she acts all surprised about it."

Emma hit 'play'. "Noooo! Please!" she begged, once again playing along with the on-screen victim. She bucked and squirmed as Tara did. The club swung again. This time it ripped a defence wound in a helplessly flailing arm, before pounding into Tara's right breast. Blow after blow slammed into her, biting into her flesh, and with each Bob smashed his cock deeper into his sweetheart as she tensed in sympathy around his shaft.

Tara's brutalised body finally succumbed, her slender legs collapsing under her, splayed awkwardly in a way that Bob found highly erotic, and she slithered down the wall in a gasping mess, her bloodied arm dragging a streak of red on the white paint. Emma wilted under him, suddenly relaxing her womanly grip.

"Hnnng," Bob grunted. Emma could feel Bob was close to nutting, but they had to hold on. The best part was yet to come.

Emma watched as Bob dragged Tara's weakened body away from the wall by one feebly kicking leg, and mentally readied herself, as on-screen Bob straddled his prey and roughly forced himself inside of her.

Bob's hands slipped around Emma's throat in a gentle caress, then suddenly he squeezed as his cameo started to choke and rape Tara on-screen.

"Gllrggh Achk," Emma gurgled, arching her back. She was play acting a bit while she still had the breath to do so, and she knew Bob loved the noises. Then Bob's grip tightened hard, and she started to see stars.

Bob released his iron grip for a moment and she pleaded with him. "No Mister, please! You'll kill me. Please stop," she squeaked hoarsely, jerking desperately below him.

Bob laughed breathily at her am-dram performance, and resumed the grip, pounding harder and harder into his wife's snatch, feeling the ecstasy of her writhing body below. When Emma shuddered and fainted, Bob finally spilled into her, collapsing onto her limp body in a sweaty embrace.

As she came round, Emma could still taste the euphoria of her climax like a fading dream. She looked up at the screen through half-open lids, the frozen picture distorted through her tears. She realised that she must have been out for a couple of minutes, because now the video had already moved on to the next scene, and Tara was dangling by her wrists above an industrial shredder.

They lay together, silently sharing a moment of matrimonial bliss, then Emma said, "Breakfast. Afterwards I'll pop in an egg in my foo and we'll do part two. You can rape my vibrating ass while I go through the shredder."

"Yum!" said Bob. "But I'm afraid I'll be declining that offer today."

"Wait! What?" Emma said incredulously. "But Bob, it's your birthday. You're not turning all faggy on me are you?"

"You're like a hungry cat. Always wailing and getting in the way all the time."

"Yeah, feed my pussy or feel its claws."