Carla and I extracted ourselves from the body harnesses we wore overnight, providing instant relief to our nipples and cunt flaps, which each had to endure tight sawtoothed clips for hours. My nipples in particular were sore, but we each sucked on each of the other’s nipples, which provided relief from the soreness and discomfort. Our cunt flaps, well, they just had to get on with it.
As Carla was opening cupboards and getting the next piece of orgasm gear out, I texted my husband and told him to kiss Anna, properly, long, to show her how much he loved her. Because I knew I loved Carla as I know he loves Anna. It’s special, and I wanted Anna to know.
I looked up, and Carla saw my eyes widen at what she had got out. It was a fucking machine, not a consumer one, but a serious, custom, hard wearing one. She described it as brutal, unforgiving and costing a small fortune, and she told me to get on it. I didn’t hesitate.
She had set it up with two dildos mounted vertically, the one for the cunt a finger and thumb type, the one for the asshole thicker and with balls. She lubed them up and I knelt with legs either side of the base, leaning on some large cuffs and lowered myself onto the cocks, her moving them to get them into the right place to penetrate me, me lowering my body until they were fully inside me.
Those cuffs are actually thigh to calf restraints, so once I was fully impaled, she fitted them to my legs (meaning my legs were folded at my knees and I was unable to unbend them at all) and adjusted them to make sure they were tight. Next, she locked the restraints to the base of the fucking machine, and pulled at them to make sure I wasn’t able to move. I was impaled and there was nothing I could do about it. Next, she pulled my arms behind my body, put my wrists in more cuffs, and locked them to the back of the machine. This had the effect of bending my body back a little and pushing my naked tits forwards and upwards.
Then, she pulled out some clover nipple clamps and a clover clit clamp, all linked by chains. She put them on me, adjusting them all to be comfortable (confirming with me that they were), before making them a couple of turns tighter each. Bitch!
Finally, she produced a drool gag, or specifically my drool gag. I recognised it. She presumably got it from my husband, so all the time he was fucking Anna, did he know what Carla had in store for me? Was his cock ridiculously hard because of it? (I’m guessing yes and yes!)
She applied the gag, adjusted it to be comfortable, then did another turn on each of the three clover clamps.
She said I was ready, leant in and kissed the end of my nose, then turned the machine on. It was quite gentle at first, but a heady mix of vibration and pumping in and out with the finger and thumb dildo, whilst being locked into place with the restraints and dildo in my ass, meant that as it accelerated, I had nowhere to go, I had to take all the pumping, all the machine fucking.
I couldn’t say anything. All I could do is moan, and moan I did, louder as it sped up. She stroked my hair as the machine accelerated, driving me to orgasm without any finesse. It was that heady mix of love and brutality. And as I came, it didn’t stop. I looked at Carla, half-begging for some compassion (whilst secretly hoping there would be none), and I realised she had put the remote control for the machine on the coffee table in front of me, in view, but out of reach of both of us.
She knelt next to me, tightened the clover clamps again, and then held my head against her tits as the machine carried on fucking me. It was utterly relentless.
I like relentless, in a fucking context.
I came again, and again, lost in the heavy mindset of helplessness, that subspace of endurance, her tender stroking of my hair in stark contrast with the unstopping viciousness of the machine fuck. A head fuck indeed.
I lost track of time, lost track of how much I’d cum. Each orgasm meant tightening of the clover clamps, from discomfort to searing pain, dulled only by the orgasms and cuntal pounding. I was sobbing, crying, moaning, in a heady mix of pleasure and pain.
And then it stopped. She took off the ball gag, the cuffs and restraints (leaving the clover clamps in place) and helped me up off the machine. My legs were weak, and she almost had to carry me to the chair overlooking the machine.
She then got another set of three clover clamps out, applied them to her own nipples and clit, tightening them until she was clearly in pain, until her own nipples and clit were clearly deformed by the clamps, and then she climbed onto the machine, only having to lube the anal dildo, as the finger and thumb one was so slick from my cunt. She did up the thigh to ankle restraints and secured them to the machine, then said next time I’d get a chance to do to her what she did to me.
But for now, she said this was real Cowgirl, producing a ten gallon hat, putting it on, then starting the machine. Even though she had no movement at all, like I had, she seemed to be riding it like a horse, the first orgasm taking a while, but then them coming thick and fast, with clover clamp adjustments after they happened, all under my watchful gaze.
I have no idea if it fucked her or me longer, but eventually, she stopped and released her legs.
And then, without cleaning us up, she put my dress on me, one on herself, bundled me in her car and took me home. She’d broken me.
Once home, my husband helped me to get to the sofa, where I slumped, messy cunt on full view. She lounged in the chair opposite, legs spread wide, and my husband knelt down in front of her. I had forgotten she had offered him our messy cunts to clean up, and the machine had left us both in a hell of a state. Slowly and with precision, he licked Carla’s cunt clean first, stopping every so often to share a cunt flavoured kiss with either her or me. Once hers was clear, he started on mine, not stopping until it was clear of stickiness.
They kissed, snogged really, then she lent over me and kissed me, properly, lovingly, a long tongue jousting kiss that went on forever.
She apologised for breaking me, but I told her it was an easy price to pay for that night, and I’d be there tonight, no matter what.
As Carla got up to leave, she gave my husband a memory card. I queried what it was, and she said it’s my machine fuck, for him to enjoy and wank over. My hell and ecstasy laid out for him to see, to get him hard, to get him worked up. I just knew before we got back to the pub tonight that he’d watch it, and that his cock would be ridiculously hard because of it, and he’d fill my cunt or asshole with it before I go back to Carla. I’d like that. But in the meantime, I needed to rest. It was a hell of a twelve hours.