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I shiver when the tip of the leather crop skims over my flesh.
“I’m gonna spread you over my knees and whip your ass raw, Marika…”
My pulse quickens. Arousal surges. Marcel has never whipped my…ass.
It is not a threat. It’s a promise.
One he plans on keeping. Marcel is always a man of his word.
He swats my ass for emphasis.
Why had I ever doubted him?
“And then I’m gonna eat that sweet pussy…”
I moan low in my throat.
Marcel reaches between my legs, pats the crotch of my cum-sodden panties.
“Look at ya pussy all wet.” He presses into the fabric with his fingers, then pinches my clit. “All this for me.”
It isn’t a question.
He already knows. I am always wet for him.
He brings his hand to his nose, sniffs, then licks his fingertips.
And then…
“I’m gonna fuck you i
n ya ass. I love you, Marika. But tonight, I’ma split ya shit open. You’re gonna learn to never put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me.”
I groan against the gag. “God, yes…”
My need for him swells. Hotter. Wetter.
My God, I wish he’d stop torturing me. Wish he’d dole out my punishment. And just fuck me already!
I can’t take this anymore.
The heat is becoming so unbearable.
I cry out against the gag, “Oh, God! Just fuck me already. Please.”
My breathing hitches when he reaches for my taut nipples and pinches them hard.
“You still talking shit, right?”
My cheeks flush and I bite down on my lip, shaking my head.
I swallow when I notice his dick twitch and start to swell again.
Despite everything, I know Marcel’s desires for me are real. As are mine for him.
He walks over and grabs the ball gag, then stalks back over to me. “I got something for that shit. Open ya mouth.”
Again, I do as I am told. Do whatever is necessary to make things right with my husband. I open my mouth. Allow him to push the ball into my mouth, fitting it between my teeth, then fasten the leather straps behind my head.
