Michael sat up in bed reading, waiting for his wife. The dog was up on the bed with him, trying to nose the book out of his hand and get attention.

Fucking obnoxious dog. Hadn't he made it clear to the mutt that he didn't like it? To leave him alone?

It was all his wife's fault. Somehow their household wasn't complete without some yipping little creature running around. Michael had been outvoted three

to one by her and the kids. But the fucking thing, some sort of little rat terrier, had separation anxiety. And it peed on everything. It made the

house stink. To top it off it had to sleep on the bed with them or it freaked the fuck out. Cindy couldn't turn it out. Somehow he had to make

her see that this just wasn't going to work.

Michael shoved the mutt back off of him for the fifth time as his wife entered the room and started shedding her clothes. He admired her body approvingly

over his book, even though she was hardly paying attention to him, off in her own world. He'd always made it clear she needed to stay in shape after

the babies and at 35 she was still a tight little package, with nice C-cup titties, and only a little pooching at the tummy. That was the benefit of

marrying her when she was young. Probably helped that he had said absolutely no breast feeding was allowed.

To his dismay she slipped on a pair of sweat shorts and a tank top to wear to bed, her universal sign for "no sex." What the fuck, thought Michael.

"I started my period," she said, as if reading his mind.

"Oh," Michael responded. "Fine. Ok." He was irritated. And horny as fuck.

By the lamplight, Cindy checked herself out in the mirror as she gathered her medium-length hair up into a pony-tail. Hot wives fucking preen like this.

Michael had gotten used to it years ago. The mutt had already jumped off the bed and was hopping around excitedly trying ot win her attention. She reached

down to give it a pat accompanied by a patronizing and long "aaaawwwwww." Then she climbed into bed and the dog hopped up right after her, panting and being

way too energetic for bed time. Michael set down his paperback and gave her an exasperated look.

       

"For God's sake Cindy, does he really have to sleep with us?"

"Are we actually going to have this conversation right now Michael?" She didn't want to look back at him. "I'm tired. I have to get up early and we've already

talked about this." She took her glasses off and set them on the night stand, then turned on her side, away from him. Michael had to lift the dog out of

the way to scoot closer to her. How could he help her to understand this situation just wasn't going to work? He put his hand on her hip under the sheets.

He could feel her tense up in response.

"What do you want Michael?" she asked with a bitter tone.

What do I want, he thought. He could think of a couple things.

"What do I want?" he barked. Then with forcefulness, "I want..." He squeezed her hip now for emphasis. "To make. Myself. Clear." Each word was hard and angry

to show her he meant business. He pulled her toward him, then effortlessly yanked her body up. He put his hand to her throat and pinned her to the headboard,

choking her just enough to hopefully get his point across. Michael put his face very close to hers. Now she was whimpering, frightened. She always was when he

got like this. Her terror fueled him. He felt himself getting harder.

The dog wanted to play too. He tried to climb on Cindy but Michael pushed him back into a sitting position, hissing at him. That got him to calm down a bit.

"Aaaaw," said Michael, parodying his wife. "You want to join the game puppy? You wanna join?"

A little tear formed and fell down Cindy's cheek as Michael held her there. He spoke with careful, deliberate words. "What I'm going to do is show you exactly

why this little situation" --he nodded at the dog-- "isn't going to work. Do you understand?" She didn't respond, her throat gurgling a little, her windpipe

tightly constricted.

"Do you understand me!?" Michael made it clear a response was necessary. With effort Cindy nodded, crying silently and choking.

"Let me show you." Michael pulled the blanket down off of her legs, uncovering her. Then with one hand he grabbed her shorts and tugged them hard down her

thighs. He gave her a threatening glare and she twisted to help him pull them off over her feet, leaving her naked from the waste down. She immediately

snapped her legs together.

"No. That's not how this game works, honey." The dog just looked from one to the other, puzzled but interested. Michael reached down and pulled at her legs.

He got right in her face again, with a full on don't-fuck-with-me grimace.

"Spread 'em cunt." She whimpered louder, grudgingly giving way. As her legs spread, Michael got a glimpse of the little white string dangling from her pussy

lips. Cindy knew what was coming now. She was shaking her head back and forth, trying to communicate with him, but not daring to speak. Michael just grinned

at her.

"Listen bitch. This is going to happen. You need to be taught a lesson. I need you to nod to show you understand me." He could see her will crumble as she

nodded, heavy tears now tracing her cheeks.

Staring into her eyes the whole time, Michael reached down and grabbed the string. Then slowly he tugged it out bit by bit, watching her expression at each

sensation, feeding on her fear. As he eased the tampon out, the dog's senses immediately perked up. He jumped forward, sniffing frantically. The scent of

fresh blood had a powerful effect.

Cindy squeezed her legs shut instinctively. Michael let go of her throat and slapped her across the face. Then he grabbed her pony-tail, pulling her head back

and glowering into her eyes. The other hand still held the tampon, dangling out of the dog's reach. The mutt was busy anyway, pawing at Cindy's lap, panting

with rapid breaths. Michael was fully hard now.

"You are going to give him what he wants." He spoke calmly, charging his words with venom. "It's that simple. I want to watch you give it to him. If you try

to close your legs again, so help me..." Michael let the threat hang there. Cindy nodded through her sobs, then slowly spread her legs.

The mutt couldn't wait. It was a heavy flow, absolutely perfect. Blood had dripped from her cunt and soaked into the sheet. Of course, the dog wanted to get at

the source. Lapping up the blood, it drove its muzzle deep into her cunt. Michael drank in her wife's disgust as her body suddered and squirmed. She cried out

in pain. Apparently the dog wasn't being so careful with its teeth. Michael searched for some sympathy in his heart and found none.

"What? Does that hurt cunt? Now do you understand?" The dog was still slurping away, rubbing her raw. She continued to squirm and whimper, but didn't dare

close her legs again.

Michael returned his hand to her throat, the blood-soaked tampon wrapped around a finger of the other.

"Do you want it to stop Cindy? Do you?" She nodded frantically. God he loved having her under his thumb like this. "Then you'll do as I fucking say. Understand?

Look at me! Tilt your head back. Open your mouth." Her slow compliance charged him up, turned him on so much, sending jolts of energy to his cock. "Stick out

your tongue." He dangled the tampon above her, lined up just right. The dog was still going to town on her ravaged pussy. She trembled but stayed in position,

resigned, broken, tongue outstretched. These are the moments to relish, Michael thought, as he squeezed the tampon ever so slightly between thumb and forefinger.

He watched as each blood droplet fell into her open mouth.

"Don't even think of swallowing this, understand?" She wasn't in a great position to respond. Then he gave the tampon a thorough squeeze and a stream of blood

sponged out. She murmured her slight dissent. "Fuck you," he said in response. He dropped the tampon down into her mouth a bit. "Bite it." As she chewed methodically,

it yielded even more blood. He yanked it back out and inspected.

"Let me see how much you got in there. Good. Don't swallow it. Now take off your shirt." She did so anxiously, not at all seductive or sexy, but it turned him on so

much to see her submission. He twisted one tit hard, making her cry out, then he gave it a few hard slaps for good measure. The dog yelped, but calmed again after

he gave it a swat as well.

"Get on your hands and knees bitch. You spill a drop of that dirty mess in your fuck-hole of a mouth and I will break your fucking nose." He forced her roughly

forward, the dog looking on quizzically. Michael pulled down his boxers, his dick springing free as he moved in behind her. She craned her neck to stare back

at him, empty and resigned. Maybe she thinks it's almost over, Michael reflected.

"I hope you know that there's no way I'm going fuck that foul bloody cunt." Leaning down, he spat on her asshole, then shoved a finger into it. She moaned in

protest but didn't open her mouth.

"Get ready," Michael grunted, then slammed his hard cock into her back door. She shrieked in pain and he marveled at the sensational feeling of her tight ass

twitching and reflexing. He felt some pain in his skin too from the barely lubricated intrusion, but it was worth it. Maybe she'd bleed for a week as part of

learning her lesson. Michael would heal before she would. He pulled out and slammed back in again angrily.

"I know how much you love that mangy mutt," he groaned as he pounded away. "Now it's time to show it. You know what I want. Give him a kiss and make sure that

it is with feeling!" Michael gave her a deep painful thrust for each of those last words. She was bawling now, but he could see from above as she leaned down

toward the dog, bouncing forward each time he pistoned in her. His angle was good. Fuck, should he be videotaping this? She opened her mouth to proffer her tongue.

The dog was all too eager.

What a feeling, thought Michael, seeing his sexy cunt wife in a bloody make-out session with a mangy foul-breathed little rat dog. Knowing that each time he pounded

into her, it hurt her more and more. Hearing her shrieking and gurgling, tongue-tied.

That's when he lost it and filled her asshole full of cum. As he did he brought his fist down onto the back of her head. Just hard enough so she'd see a few stars.

It made that final wave of orgasm that much better. What a night to remember.

He was spent but he wasn't done. He pulled out and laid back. Cindy was sobbing. The dog was in a sitting position, panting with a macabre, bloody smile.

"Come here," he slurred, grabbing her hair and pulling her head toward his cock. It had a small brown streak on the tip.

"Clean it off bitch." Not that she had a choice as he grasped her head firmly and positioned it for her. He pushed his dick right to the back of her throat, making

her gag and foam, her nose already bubbling from all the crying. He shoved her all the way down on his cock a few times until he started to soften.

"I'm not done yet cunt. Turn around. Shit that cum into my hand." He pushed her into a squatting position. She seemed dazed, but wearily farted the goop out.

What a hilarious sight.

"Now lay down bitch." He smeared it all over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tight but didn't protest.

"Don't think of cleaning this off. That's your final punishment." Her sobs were repetitive and soothing to him. He turned off the lamp and laid back.

Time to conclude the conversation? "So...if you really, really want to let the dog sleep with us Cindy, I'd understand. And as your husband, I'd respect your decision."

Huddled on her side, she said nothing. Michael smiled into the darkness.