Kneeling before Him...



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Thursday, September 20, 2007

I wrote a part 3 of the Angel story. A part 3! That is unheard of for me. I wrote it because Mac was so in love with Angel. He found her exciting and erotic, yet sweet and gentle. He was turned on by my story about her. I liked it. This one though did not have the same effect on Him. He is not well, so that could be to blame but His reaction of "It's great but it's too long" was not exactly what I thought I would hear.

He was right though. This part in it's entirety is seven pages long. The first two parts were only five each. Mac suggested that I don't post it all at once, give you just the beginning and leave you wondering what is going to happen next. I think that it is mean and something only a sadist would do. But, well, I trust Him not to lead me astray, so I am only posting the beginning. (Just remember it is Mac's fault I am doing this! Blame Him!)

Angel part 3.1

She stood with the other women at the party trying very hard to pretend she wasn't bored. She had not wanted to come to another of these events but her husband had insisted that he could not turn up alone. She knew it was her duty as his wife to accompany him. She had never failed in her duty before and she was not about to start doing it now. She prided herself on being a good wife. And of course she loved her husband and supported him in all the important things.

She looked around for him and found him standing around a group of very important men, the type of men she knew that he one day hoped to become. Then she thought of him, her lover, and how he had told her he would have men, strangers fuck her. For a moment she allowed herself to wish that this party had been arranged for her, that these men, these rich, powerful men were the ones that would use her as they wished, or at least as he wished. Her cunt clenched at the thought.

But of course, she had been disappointed. It had been two weeks since he had told her there would be others to have her. Two more visits and both times she had spent the day in anticipation only to turn up and have him be the only one there. Still, both visits had been exciting. She was still using both as fantasies to masturbate to when she was not thinking of being used by many men. He was never boring and always managed to find a limit to push.

The first week he had beaten her like she had never been beaten before. He used his belt again, this time not stopping at three. Or four. She had no idea how many times he hit her but she had been unable to sit down comfortably for a good four days afterwards. He had stopped at one point and asked her how her husband would feel when he saw the marks and she had been too ashamed to tell him that her husband rarely looked at her anymore, that sex was something they did in the dark. So she just shrugged and then screamed as he hit her again. That day he had not come inside her, but had straddled her chest after he had beaten her tits to bloody welts and bruises and made her push her breasts together around his cock. He had spurted over her tits and neck before laying beside her, stroking her hair and telling her what a good girl she had been. She had been surprised again at how important those words were to her. She always tried to be the best girl she could be.

When she had dressed to leave, she had asked him about his friends. He had laughed and told her that she had not been ready when she had left the week before. He said he wanted her panting in anticipation. He asked her if she felt that way about it yet. She bit her lip and shook her head, hoping he could tell she meant yes. She was ashamed of her desire, yet she wanted it so badly she could hardly think of anything else. He kissed her and sent her on her way. She had wondered if he had understood.

But the next week he had been alone again and this time he had tied her hands above her head. Then he held up a knife. Her body had broken out in an all over light sweat. He used the point of the knife on her, tracing it down her cheek, over her neck, around each nipple in a scratching line that didn't break the skin. She had started to plead with him then, started to beg him not to hurt her. He didn't speak to her ignoring her requests to promise not to make her bleed. She had been a gibbering mess by the time he reached her feet, inscribing his name across the bottom of each foot before coming back up the inside of her leg. She didn't fight him, he had a knife and her hands were tied. She screamed when he pushed the knife inside her. It burned her like she was cut open. She screamed and he put his mouth over her clitoris and sucked. She came, pushing herself up to his face, into the knife. She lay there sobbing, exhausted, feeling the life drain out of her. He pulled the knife from her and held it up to show here there was no blood. He told her he had used the handle to fuck her, that he had placed it in the freezer the day before and held it carefully so that the handle would stay cold. He smiled at her, like everything he had done had been fun, a game, just sex.

"I hate you." She spat at him. "You arrogant prick. I hate you. Untie me, you bastard."
"Soon." He said calmly. "I am going to fuck you first."

He was already between her legs, and though this time she did fight him, she fought him until her cheeks stung and her thighs were bruised, he still just took what he wanted from her. She had no choice. He pushed his cock into her and it burnt her a second time, this time with heat. She realised that he was turned on by her pain, he was turned on by her fear and she found herself pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts. She wanted him, god how she wanted him. He kissed her and she pushed her tongue into his mouth in a desperate attempt to make him come. It worked. He laid beside her and held her a long time after they were finished. She cried harder than he had ever made her cry. She told him that she loved him while she was sobbing. He held her tighter and told her he loved her too. They fell asleep in each other arms and she had been really late home. She was lucky that her husband had been late home too.

She smiled as the women she was standing with laughed. She knew it was important that she keep up appearances. Her panties were wet from her memories of the times spent with him. She had been disappointed that he had not used her with friends, but really he had given her enough.

She was still smiling blankly, still pretending to be interested, when she felt the heaviness of someone's stare on her. She glanced around, expecting it to be her husband and she felt herself go pale when her eyes met the blue of his. She almost screamed. She had no idea what he was doing here, but this was something she did not need. She looked around and found her husband still standing with the important men before looking back at her lover again. He smiled and turned back to the people he was talking to. She felt her face burn as his friends started to laugh. Even though she knew he wouldn't be, she still wondered if he was talking about her. Suddenly she felt like she was suffocating. She needed to get some fresh air.

Excusing herself she made her way across the room. She stepped out onto the already occupied balcony and moved to the railing. This was a beautiful function centre, and she took the time to admire the beautiful view while she took deep breaths to calm herself. Then she allowed herself to wonder how she would get through the hours to come with two men she loved in the same room.

Posted by Sarah McBroden at 1:45 pm

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