The Paradox of Marital Compatibility.

A bit like a hammer and anvil.

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

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

His flop hand landed precipitous on the leave cheek of her font. 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 straightforward back.

"Dirty slut prostitute,"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 hard than that,"she said back at her husband, speaking her word of honor slowly and deliberate."Much, often harder. But I don't care, because it means he's going to rape me. Rape me good, Clive. violation me for hours."

He raised his hired man as if to strike her again. His whole eubstance was shaking. Was it storm, or something else ?

He lowered his arm.

"That's right, Clive. Don't try to contend. You don't equivalence, you pitiable wimp. You're not even close."

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

‘ He'was a huge wall of muscle. ‘ He'had the toughness of a airstream horse. ‘ He'was hung like a donkey.

‘ He'was her brutal, cruel rapist.

‘ He'had raped his married woman respective times now. Slapped her around. Slapped her until she didn't know which way was up. Then he'd dragged her into the sleeping accommodation, ripped off her wearing apparel and threw her onto the bed. Their married bed. Where husband and wife slept together. And when his knee found their way between her defenseless legs and forced them apart, she was wet. Sexually aroused. Her physical structure had made itself set up for him.

Ready to be fierce ridden as he fucked entire senseless.

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

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

"He's evil, Clive,"she tells her husband."Pure iniquity. 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 add up near me. I don't want to suffer that atrocious ‘ thing'he has dangling between his peg. 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 demise. But if I don't answer the doorway straight away, it makes him tempestuous. He starts hammering on the door then. I hate that, Baron Clive of Plassey, when he starts hammering. It means he's gotten furious. And when he's furious, he's mean and nasty. I know he'll slap me just and knockout then. Much harder than you just did, Clive. He'll slap me ‘ till he's made me see wizard. 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. assault me mean and filthy. He's said that from now on, if I don't let him in straightaway away, he's going to drag me away to be gangbanged. He said he knows a place of deserted privateness where no-one would know where to find me. Then for 60 minutes and hours, maybe even days, I'll be subjected to disgusting misuse. But, don't you see, that's given me a option, Robert Clive ? If I decide not to let him in straight away one fourth dimension, I know exactly what will come about. It will activate a chain of events where my twat will be brutally ravaged. He said they'll be horrible to me, Baron Clive. I'll be fucked over and over as they rape me for hours, but the thinking of it surely makes me wet. slopped than I've ever been for you, Baron Clive. I'll be wet for him and his ogre shaft. Wet for my sadistic, brutal master. The fauna 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 wish to see that Clive ? sentinel those cruel love child pull a rape-train on me ? Watch as their atrocious tool make me cum. I know you wouldn't have the balls to try stop them. You'd just support 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 caput ‘ 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 take the air straight. But that's what you want, isn't it ? differentiate the verity, Baron Clive. You want to watch me being brutally gang-banged, don't you ?"

Again, Clive nods his oral sex ‘ yes'“

"Call yourself a husband ? You're nada but a pathetic thriftlessness 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 search 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 digit, and travelling bag tight."

He complies.

Although Clive is quite a bit taller than her, it doesn't lessen the painfulness when she delivers the first open hired hand slap on the English 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 handwriting 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 clip you get hard from hearing my stories. You like my floor, don't you, Baron Clive ?"

He nods his head again.

"Go to the bedroom, then, and nibble out a strap-on from the top drawer of my chest of drawers. Lay it on top, ready for me to put on when I come in. And for your saki ”, she adds with a growling,"it had better not be the smallest."

She didn't have to threaten. He'd select the large. He always did.

She started grinning from ear to ear when she heard Baron Clive of Plassey'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-spot second later when she entered the bedroom, she couldn't assistant 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 get across his ears, and where his hands held it firmly in office. Was it to shroud his shame, or mute his cry, or block out all but the raw, painful delight ? Whatever way, his open cattle ranch handwriting clasped the pillow to his ears, with his nerve buried deep in its centre. His mask of stifling, his downy shadow sanctum sanctorum, was now resolutely in place. On top of the dresser was the bottle of lubricant, succeeding to the strap-on he'd picked out. The one his quivering bridge player 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 heavy by far.

No-one had forced him. He'd had a relinquish choice.

He'd selected"The She-Devil's Bull-Dick".