He realized by her silence that something was wrong yet when he inquired, “Nothing,” was the jaded reply. It is like a bell ringing in your head, or a pungent odor that is impossible to miss when she was angry. You know it is there and uncomfortable but also not easy to characterize or explain. He never knew how to diffuse the anger before it completely erupted. He loosened his tie, and with a smooth stride, made it to the far wall and stood looking into the liquor cabinet to pick the elixir that he hoped would take the tone of the bell away. Then it happened. As swiftly as a beam of light it came and the staccato sounded like an automatic weapon and out flowed the harsh words she had been storing for some time.
He turned from the cabinet and faced her. Her eyes flashed anger and he broadened his stance as if to brace for the oncoming blow. He squared his shoulders. Although he was focused he knew that his job was not to argue, but to listen. His objective was to try and determine the source of the anger, however addressing it at this time would be futile. He listened and responded as appropriate, but that was not what consumed his thoughts.
He learned long ago that he would not win this argument in fact there is no winning. The issues are always real and the anger almost violent, but now he needed to manage the collateral damage and restore order to the discussion. He turned back to the cabinet as almost to ignore her and lifted the bottle of scotch from its place. He selected a tall glass again as if to say, I will drink this away if need be. He placed one cube of ice in the bottom of the glass and then opened the 16 year old bottle and poured generously. Not a waste, but he knew now he would not be enjoying this soothing drink anytime soon.
She approached him from behind and as she did her voice became louder and more agitated. Just a bit closer Baby Girl, he thought. Much like a survivalist mentally coaxing an animal into a snare, he dared her to come closer. He lifted the glass to his lips like bait for the trapper, and then it happened. He realized she was less than one step behind him and in one nearly practiced gesture he slammed the glass onto the wood cutting board and the sound filled the space like a rifle shot. The moment froze. He spun and with his left hand reached around her slender waist and pulled her frame toward him, and with his right firmly grabbed her throat. The motion surprised her. The pressure against her throat made words impossible to utter. Now rather than anger her mind raced to survival. She could not breath.
She could see in his eyes a familiar look. A look that comes not from his eyes but from his soul. She tried again to breath and there was nothing.
He waited what seemed like an eternity, completely in control, now he uttered the words, “Stay quiet and don’t scream, Baby Girl, know one knows you are here.” She nodded. His grip loosened. Her eyes saw his fury. Not fury as in anger, but she knew generally what was in store.
With his left hand, he spun her around and shifted his right from her throat to a full grasp of her long sensual hair. He pulled hard to force her chin up, then with his thigh he pushed her off balance so she had to reach out for the counter. Her hands were outstretched in reflex and she caught herself. She felt her head jerk back at the same time. Not violent but firm. His knee between her legs forced them apart. Not so wide, only shoulder width. She closed her eyes.
He lifted her dress and started to talk to her as if they had never met. “Ah, pretty girl, you are wearing some very sexy panties. You must have wanted this. You did isn’t that true? You were hoping that a man, strong and handsome man would see these, otherwise you would not have them on. You whore. I wonder who you belong to?” SWAT was the sound of his hand on her sexy firm ass. The words continued. “If you were mine, I would never let you wear something like this in public unless it were for me.” SWAT. “Don’t scream and you will be OK, I wont hurt you… much.” SWAT.
His left hand kept pressure on her hip and then she felt it tug hard on the waist of her black lingerie. He pulled it first to her thighs, then with one continuous motion, forced them to the floor. His foot pushed her legs far apart now. He spread her. She could not flee as she was just trying to maintain balance. SWAT. “Oh, such a nice pussy you have pretty girl. I’ll bet you are all wet and ready to be fucked. Are you wet down there little whore?”
A slight nod.
A turbulent storm of emotions was crashing through her, the initial waves of her anger were colliding with the fear and lust, (lust? where did that come from?), this sudden turn had thrown at her.
His detached demeanor had finally pushed her and she hadn’t been able to contain everything inside any longer. She snapped. Her head was pounding from banging against him to open up to her. Now her heartbeat and heavy breathing rang louder.
What the hell is he doing?
Even from her awkward position, she thrashed against him trying to get away. A hint of terror sizzled through her as adrenaline fueled her pushing her to fight him, and whatever he was doing. His grip tightened on her hip as the cool air licked her sex that was surprisingly covered with her desire.
He pulled again on her hair, jerking her head back and throwing her off balance. She lashed her hand out trying to strike him from fear, anger, automatic reaction, pick one, they’re all there. His right hand reached out and captured her wrist in a vice-like grip and spun her around pulling her arm up behind her almost painfully, and crashing her body against him.
Now captive, there was nothing she could do.
“Let me go,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
He kicked her feet apart again and wedged his knee between them.
“Dip your fingers between your legs and touch yourself, little whore. Show me how wet you are,” his voice was low at her ear, his breath warm against the skin of her neck.
A ripple of desire slipped through her.
His hand tightened fractionally around her captured wrist telling her again to do as he commanded.
Slowly she lowered her hand until it disappeared between her spread thighs. Her loins pulsed at the contact shooting hunger straight through her. As she raised it, she watched his eyes as he followed her every movement.
“Look at that, ready to be fucked like the good little whore you are. Give it to me.”
She stared at him as she positioned her fingers at his mouth, watching his lips and tongue clean her arousal from her fingertips.
His hard body pressed against her, his heartbeat pounding into her, his complete control of her were all consuming her. His hard cock pressing into her ass made her pussy clench with need.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, little whore.”
“No,” she squirmed against him, throwing herself off-balance.
“Yes,” his teeth clamped down on the tendon of her neck as he held her up with the arm he had behind her back. “If you fight me, you only give yourself pain. It’s your choice,” he whispered roughly at her ear.
She stood perfectly still pressed against him.
“Good choice, now move to lean over the back of the couch.”
He slid his knee from between her legs and walked her slowly to the couch, still holding her firmly. Guiding her forward, she was exposed and open to him bent over.
“Raise one leg, I’m going to spank you.”
Her eyes flew open as she looked at him over her shoulder.
SWAT. His hand came down hard on her right ass cheek.
“I told you, you can have pain that hurts, or pleasure. It’s your choice.”
Slowly she lifted her right leg to rest on the back of the couch.
Her heart was crashing against her ribcage and her breathing was ragged.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he said quietly.
He released her wrist and laid it on her lower back, holding her firmly in place.
His hand lands in rapid successions against her sex, each one sending jolts of desire from her clit throughout her body. She clenched her teeth as her orgasm came rolling over her so quickly, she screamed out.
Shoving two fingers into her dripping cunt, he bent his tall frame over her body and gripped her throat tightly with his other hand.
“I’m going to fuck you now, whore. I’m going to fuck you because you wanted this, with those pretty panties. I’m going to fuck to show you if you were mine what would happen if you wore those out in public.”
Her breath caught from both, his hand at her throat and his promise.
Releasing her, she felt him moving behind as the sound of the zipper from his pants filled the space. She felt the head of his swollen cock sliding over her slickness, sensitive from his slaps, making her moan.
“Quiet, little whore,” his hand slaps her ass as he whispers gruffly again at her ear.
Giving her only the head of his cock, she stifles another moan, wanting more.
Residual fear and longing send shockwaves through her igniting her nerve endings as she clutches the cushions beneath her. In then out, he teases her with only the tip of his cock. She bites the pillow under her face stifling a cry.
Wrapping her long hair around his hand and gripping her hip, he says roughly, “Lift your face, I want to see you when I’m fucking you.”
When she lifts her head, he slams his thickness into and pounds into her cervix.
“Oh, God!” she can’t contain the cry.
His thrusts are hard and demanding, each one a punishment and a gift. He is relentless, each one going deeper, pushing her higher. She can feel him swell as he gets harder as her walls close on him, another orgasm building inside her.
“You’re going to cum again, little whore, you love cock,” he grits out.
“Yes,” she whispers hoarsely.
He buries himself inside her and grinds into her, rubbing her inside and pressing hard against her cervix.
“Cum, little whore, cum all over my cock,” he commands.
Exquisite pain, incredible pressure, complete fullness thrusts her over making her soar.
His thrusts pound into her again, pushing him to explode inside her, with each. Demanding. Thrust.
Catching his breath, he leans over her again to bring his mouth to her cheek.
“The next time you have something to say, don’t scream at me.”