Gods & Monsters(74)
“Maybe your parents should’ve spanked you more. Or maybe Father Knight should’ve purged the sin out of you.”
God, why’s that so arousing? It makes my cunt clasp him even more tightly. This is sick and wrong and so fucking beautiful. Because it’s mine. It’s ours. Abel was right. Nothing we ever do together can be wrong. The relationship between a wife and a husband — a man and his woman — is the most sacred of all. Sacred and unique and pure.
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I confess, picking up speed as my knees grind into the mattress and my body jumps. “I was born this way. For you. For my sick Abel.”
“Fuck yeah, you were born for me.” With his free hand, he winds my hair around his wrist and pulls my head back, arching me up.
He noses the bottom of my throat, my breastbone, the valley of my tits, and I close my eyes, sighing in wonder and pleasure and satisfaction. I have no control over this fucking now. Maybe I never did. It’s okay.
With my hair in his hand, he fucks into me. He moves his hips and pushes into my channel. I’m suspended over him on my knees, kept steady by his hand, while I grip his shoulders and hold on to him. He’s riding me hard, brutal, his rough jean-covered thighs smacking into my flesh, leaving it all raw and red and horny.
He bites the flesh of my breast, making my eyes water and my mouth sputter. He tugs on my hair viciously, while he scrapes his teeth over my nipple, whispering, “You feel good, Pixie?”
My neck’s arched and tight at an angle, but it feels nothing but good. So I moan my assent.
He lets go of my hair and brings my face down, still fucking me, still nudging me with his dick, deep inside. “You wanna tell them, baby? You wanna tell them how good it feels?”
My eyes go wide, my heart pounding in my lips, where he just whispered those words. I’m confused. What does he even mean? Tell them how.
When I focus on him, I understand. He needs this. He needs this power. I only tasted people’s open condemnation a month back, but he’s been facing it for years now. No wonder he’s so wounded.
He needs this validation to complete the fantasy, this ritual of ours, and I’m happy to give it to him.
I get up from his lap and off his cock. I’m teetering; my feet have no energy, no life. Abel grabs my sides and turns me, and I slide down on his dick, my back pressed to his wildly breathing chest, his thighs on either side of me.
My legs are closed and it looks like I’m simply sitting, innocently, casually. It might as well be that I’m sitting on a church pew on his lap. Only I’m naked and my pussy is speared on his big dick. He’s so big behind me, still clothed but lustful. All-powerful.
His breaths are fanning along the side of my cheek as he fists the flesh of my hips, moving me, rocking me with one hand, hitting the upper wall of my pussy.
With the other hand, he forces me to look into the camera. The red-blinking light, the black, inanimate object makes me gush like a river.
“Imagine everyone in that town, Pixie. Every single one of them. They watched. But they never came to help.” His whispers are making him wild as well. The force of his hands on my hips has increased. I’m grinding down, rocking against him, and my mind’s flying to that night in the past.
“Now tell them. Tell them how good it feels. Tell them how good I fuck you.”
My heart’s slamming, trying to break the bones of my ribs. My bounces on his dick become embarrassingly haphazard at his words. I don’t have to be embarrassed though, because he groans in my ear and pinches my nipple. A dam breaks inside me, then.
My mouth opens and I say it. I say it all. I tell them how good it feels. I tell them how amazing it is when he’s inside me, fucking me like a madman. I tell them that I love him and I can’t live without him. And I don’t care what they think. I don’t care that they hate him or hate me. I married him anyway. I’m his for life and he’s mine, too.
I say it proudly, my chest thrown back, my eyes open and staring at the camera. I say it with my hands on my tits, worrying my nipples because I just can’t stop. I can’t fight what he does to me. I don’t want to. I’m in love and I want them to know it.
He seems to grow even bigger, even stronger, even more seductive as I say the words. I lose myself in it. I lose all sense of myself, my awareness, and it pushes me over the edge. I come, gushing, my pussy fluttering over his shaft, as Abel’s still pounding into me, breathing with exertion, all sweaty and musky.
Like the cum spouting out of my channel, the whispered words burst out of me, “I love him, Daddy. I love him so much.”
And then, I close my eyes and I’m simply breathing, floating on the clouds.
My consciousness returns when Abel grunts. He’s about to come and he’s in the process of pushing me up so he can jack himself off, and spill his cum somewhere out of my body. But I reach back and pull his hair. “Don’t leave me.”
He halts all movement, studying my features. His jaw clenches and I can see the ocean of emotions in his dark eyes. I run my fingers down the sharp peak of his cheek and repeat my plea. “Please c-come inside me.”
Abel whooshes out a breath, visibly shaking, and stands up. I stumble, my pussy coming off his cock. I’m confused as to what he’s doing. But he doesn’t let me ask any questions. He throws me on the bed where I bounce and the sheets feel surprisingly nice and soft against my overheated curves.