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Stories in DB: 54651
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The Paradox of Marriage

Categories Fantasy, Domination/submission, Humiliation, Rape

Author: missyoujayne

Published: 27 June 2019

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The Paradox of Marital Compatibility.

A bit like a hammer and anvil.

I abhor domestic violence in all its forms. Perpetrators should be crushed by the full weight of the law.

However, sometimes, all is not quite as it seems……

His right hand landed sharp on the left cheek of her face. The force made her stumble, but she put her hand on the kitchen table and regained her stance in a second. She stood defiant and glared him straight back.

“Dirty slut whore,” he spat, then slapped the same cheek again. Harder this time.

Even then, she recovered her balance in an instant, but her own left hand went up to the resulting burn. The coolness of her massaging, open flat palm offered some relief to the sting.

“Oh, he hits me much harder than that,” she said back at her husband, speaking her words slow and deliberate. “Much, much harder. But I don’t care, because it means he’s going to rape me. Rape me good, Clive. Rape me for hours.”

He raised his hand as if to strike her again. His whole body was shaking. Was it rage, or something else?

He lowered his arm.

“That’s right, Clive. Don’t try to compete. You don’t compare, you pathetic wimp. You’re not even close.”

His eyes started to fill with tears. He knew he could never compare. Not with ‘him’.

‘He’ was a huge wall of muscle. ‘He’ had the stamina of a race horse. ‘He’ was hung like a donkey.

‘He’ was her brutal, cruel rapist.

‘He’ had raped his wife several times now. Slapped her around. Slapped her until she didn’t know which way was up. Then he’d dragged her into the bedroom, ripped off her clothes and threw her onto the bed. Their marital bed. Where husband and wife slept together. And when his knees found their way between her naked legs and forced them apart, she was wet. Sexually aroused. Her body had made itself ready for him.

Ready to be rough ridden as he fucked full senseless.

Even if her mind didn’t want him, her body did.

And he would take full advantage. He would just do her. Do her for hours.

“He’s evil, Clive,” she tells her husband. “Pure evil. A demented mad-man who does what he wants. When he knocks on the door, shivers go up and down my spine. I want to go and hide, Clive, pretend I’m not home. I don’t want him to come near me. I don’t want to suffer that horrible ‘thing’ he has dangling between his legs. I don’t want it in me. Medically speaking, it’s a penis. But it isn’t, Clive. It’s a monster. It’s huge. When it grows erect It scares me to death. But if I don’t answer the door straight away, it makes him angry. He starts hammering on the door then. I hate that, Clive, when he starts hammering. It means he’s gotten angry. And when he’s angry, he’s mean and nasty. I know he’ll slap me good and hard then. Much harder than you just did, Clive. He’ll slap me ‘till he’s made me see stars. But sometimes I want him to get angry. That’s when I wait before I unlock the door. But I can’t stop myself letting him in, Clive. I let him in, knowing he is going to rape me. Rape me mean and nasty. He’s said that from now on, if I don’t let him in straight away, he’s going to drag me away to be gangbanged. He said he knows a place of deserted seclusion where no-one would know where to find me. Then for hours and hours, maybe even days, I’ll be subjected to disgusting misuse. But, don’t you see, that’s given me a choice, Clive? If I decide not to let him in straight away one time, I know exactly what will happen. It will trigger a chain of events where my pussy will be brutally ravaged. He said they’ll be horrible to me, Clive. I’ll be fucked over and over as they rape me for hours, but the thought of it sure makes me wet. Wetter than I’ve ever been for you, Clive. I’ll be wet for him and his monster cock. Wet for my sadistic, cruel master. The brute who could abduct me anytime he wanted. Abduct me to where his mates will be waiting. Men who are much rougher and meaner that him. He said they’d take turns on me, one after the other. Would you like to see that Clive? Watch those cruel bastards pull a rape-train on me? Watch as their horrible cocks make me cum. I know you wouldn’t have the balls to try stop them. You’d just stand there as they all took turns on me, wouldn’t you, Clive? Say it. ‘I’d stand by and watch them all do you.’ “

Clive nods his head ‘yes’.

“I knew it. You’d let them all do me ‘til they’d used me all up. Used me ‘till I couldn’t even walk straight. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell the truth, Clive. You want to watch me being brutally gang-banged, don’t you?”

Again, Clive nods his head ‘yes’ “

“Call yourself a husband? You’re nothing but a pathetic waste of space.”

Clive’s eyes were brimming with tears now. Some had started to roll down his cheeks. Some had dripped off his chin.

“Just look at you”, she mocks. “Wimp boy. I don’t know why I married you in the first place.”

Clive starts to sob.

She starts to laugh.

“Put your hands behind your back,” she barks as an order.

He complies.

“Entwine your fingers, and grip tight.”

He complies.

Although Clive is quite a bit taller than her, it doesn’t lessen the pain when she delivers the first open hand slap on the side of his face.

She loves this part of their game.

“How do you like it, wimp-boy?” she scoffs, before striking him hard again.

His eyes struggle to see her through the tsunami of tears.

She lashes out and strikes him again. Then twice more, as hard as she can.

He whimpers, like the wimp that she calls him.

Her hand alights on the crotch of his trousers and squeezes his rock-hard erection through the fabric.

“I’m going to rape you now, you know that, don’t you, Clive?”

He nods his head to acknowledge defeat.

“Rape you good, like I do every time you get hard from hearing my stories. You like my stories, don’t you, Clive?”

He nods his head again.

“Go to the bedroom, then, and pick out a strap-on from the top drawer of my dresser. Lay it on top, ready for me to put on when I come in. And for your sake”, she adds with a growl, “it had better not be the smallest.”

She didn’t have to threaten. He’d select the biggest. He always did.

She started grinning from ear to ear when she heard Clive’s gasp from the bedroom.

He’d gasped out loud when he had opened the drawer.

She glowed with triumph as she yelled out to him from the kitchen.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’ve bought a new one to add to the collection. It’s called “The She-Devil’s Bull-Dick.”

Five minutes later when she entered the bedroom, she couldn’t help but smirk at the scene. Clive was fully buck naked with a bursting erection as he knelt on the bed with his ass in the air. He’d buried his face deep into a big fluffy pillow, which was curled up and around to cover his ears, and where his hands held it firmly in place. Was it to hide his shame, or muffle his cries, or block out all but the raw, painful pleasure? Whatever way, his open spread hands clasped the pillow to his ears, with his face buried deep in its centre. His mask of suppression, his fluffy dark sanctum, was now resolutely in place. On top of the dresser was the bottle of lube, next to the strap-on he’d picked out. The one his trembling hand had lifted out of the drawer and carefully laid down on the dresser.

The strap-on he wanted his wife to use when she raped his ass for the third time that week.

It was the newest and most scary, and biggest by far.

No-one had forced him. He’d had a free choice.

He’d selected “The She-Devil’s Bull-Dick”.

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