What for the Husband?
by DiscipleN
Copyright (c) 2002, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.
This work may not be used for any commercial purposes without prior, documented consent from the owner.

"Master of Hell, I beseech you! Let me rot in your dankest cave. Boil me in your fieriest cauldron. Skewer my body with icicles and freeze my organs. Tear out my limbs at dawn and stuff them into my orifices come twilight. I ask not forgiveness, but grant me my due." An emaciated corpse groveled low before his new king.

"Why should I listen to even the scraping of your fingers, villain?"

"I lived in abeyance of everything moral and deserve your wrath, but there is one sin that I beg you not to punish."

"Insolence!", the mighty Lord of Hell blasted. "I shall pour acid into your veins for suggesting there exists a sin I shouldn't avenge." The powerful voice ripped the man into pieces, and for long years did he wail in agony, until his body was renewed for fresh torment.

"Master, it is true, this I have earned, I who have raped and seduced and impregnated and betrayed and abandoned one so pure. That victim has fallen in my absence, but I beg you let her pass above."

"Compassion and mercy are not allowed here, foolish despoiler. Yet I would hear your story as I gnaw on your bones." CRUNCH!

"Yeeeaaaaaaahhhhh!!!... as you command, my master."

I was barely out of high school when I met Her. In fact, I had narrowly survived expulsion. My exploits were not legend, for I carefully blackmailed any who knew. There were at least three pregnancies in the school which were a direct result of my education. Some of those frightened girls had felt a sharp knife to their throats, and others were black and blue from my fists before I had unleashed my seed into their wombs. Bigger, stronger kids in my classes had tried to play the hero, but none survived either the poison I slipped into their soda cups or my offers to let them bury their cocks into trembling, bruised cunts.

She was a new student, innocent as fluttering snow and as warm as summer. Her face melted my heart for nearly a minute before I decided she would be mine, forever, until death did we part.

Her name was Joclyn. I spent two years wooing her in the traditional fashion. Her parents found me a devoted and sincere young man, ready to make his mark in the world of business. My heroin enslaved, nun whores and junkie fundamentalists did not make me wealthy, but I wore fine clothes and drove fast cars. I sucked up to Joclyn's folks like a lamprey on a dolphin. I would have sucked her father's cock and made sincere love to her mother in order to win their affections. (Eventually, I did rape her mother, and hooked her as well, but I race ahead.)

Joclyn eventually swooned. I showed only my best, and I courted her with the least attention to my personal, villainous affairs. I remember one day we were walking along the main boulevard, having seen a romantic film, just talking, when she first kissed me.

"Wow," I eased off of her full lips and sighed. The streetlights and traffic lights swirled around my head. The roar of automobiles dropped away as if into a deep well. I could have taken her then and ripped her clothes and scarred her body and dug my cock deep, but her beauty and grace were armor my heart refused to pierce, directly.

She told me then, "You have been so kind and patient. I know I have dawdled too long, considering your proposal, but the warning I was given, before we first met, melts day by day in your presence. After two years of your kindness, my doubting intuition has certainly proved false. Never have I met a more giving and attentive man. I can no longer deny you." Joclyn swooned and hugged me.

For one minute only, Master, I doubted my mission. Her hair smelled of lilac and her skin was like cream. I met her eyes and recognized Eve before the fall. I could have forsaken you then. I could have changed my ways, and become a decent man deserving of her perfection. Yet my prick pressed painfully against my tailored trousers, and it was, by far, the ultimate persuasion. I held her tenderly but my brain swirled with victory and the many spoils I would take. Twenty months of perfect facade finally won her over, and I cursed her weakness and ignorance as I kissed her forehead. I told myself she deserved nothing but my worst until the end of our days.

We married in autumn, and winter was her honeymoon. I hurt her first on our wedding night. My hands mauled her perfect body, and my teeth left marks which lasted for days. My prick fouled her cunt and ass repeatedly with cum, and the blood on our sheets and nightclothes were my bride price. She cried and screeched, but her pure heart believed my profuse apologies in the days that followed.

"I did not know." I lied. "No one ever explained to me how a man should act with his wife. I curse the day I listened to my friends' stories. I beg your forgiveness. I am on my knees." She found, afterward, only tenderness and thoughtfulness in me, for a while. The most rewarding way to break a woman is to constantly assure her of love and provide hope, all the while you grind it away. It is an art few can learn. Joclyn would be my masterwork.

In our first year, I gave little opportunity for her to despair. I would rarely arrive home drunk and missed hardly a handful of our romantic rendezvous. She thought I was a manager of a jewelry distributor, but it was only a cover operation for primary school prostitution and life insurance investments. I would ensure the life of my junkie debtors as long as they pimped their adolescent children to pay their debts.

Do not think my fair Joclyn was spared so much humiliation. I still insisted on fucking her like a madman, cumming in her ass and cunt as I pleased, and I swiftly added her mouth and face to the list of my sperm receptacles. I told her it was all I knew, but wasn't I a near perfect gentleman at all other times? If only she could accept this one flaw in my makeup, then I promised I would keep her happy in every other way.

She reluctantly agreed.

I knew she felt no joy in my lovemaking, no, my raping of her. Yet by day and evening, I took her on picnics and to dances and bought her piles of flowers and thoughtful gifts. By night, I bound her hands and used butt plugs and gags and clamps and straps. I would tie her to the stove with the oven burning and I would lash her naked ass with wooden switches, lovingly carved from a peach tree in our yard.

I would spill my seed upon her and within her. I did not allow her contraception, nor would I even look at a condom, but I did not intentionally try to impregnate her. It was my private game of Russian roulette. I told myself I would have any child aborted, and if she refused, I would slip pennyroyal into her tea. It was my first, but perhaps my only mistake.

The peach tree died from over-cutting the next year. I grew steadily bored with Joclyn. The wounds of my rapes began to show more upon her once satin skin. Welts and bruises turned into small scars and callouses. I tried to withhold my hand from inflicting permanent injuries, but passion often blossomed beyond restraint. My words of endearment dried up, and my nights away and drunken returns increased. I would apologize with flowers and drives to the country, and she continued to forgive me. But in our second year, she became pregnant.

I was furious! She had deliberately delayed in telling me. Only when I began commenting on her steady gain of weight did she reveal her true condition. She tried to pose it as a blessing, but already I was thinking of a doctor who owed me plenty for his weekly fix.

Joclyn was not a stupid woman, by any measure. Certainly, I played her for every advantage, but I was the best. She must have suspected, even in the early, happy days, that I might not prove the greatest of fathers. Hiding my contempt for children has always been my most difficult act.

She defied me then, when I accused her of conceiving without my consent. She said she would live with her parents before she would abort her child. I nearly lost it and my future exploitations with it. I could have strangled her, but until then I had never raised my hand to strike her, unless my cock was already delving within one of her pummeled orifices. If she had left me who knows how I would ever bring her back into my elaborate plans of ruination. We compromised, and I still believe I won the better part of the bargain. We decided to let her mother move in to help her during the pregnancy.

Her mother soon took over the regular schedule of home life. I was thwarted in my plan to sneak something into Joclyn's food, as her mother did all the cooking. But it has been said so true, 'When in beauty the fawn dwells, so does the doe excel.'

Joclyn's mother, Jennifer, was an incredible specimen. Age seemed never to have knocked upon her door. Her body was fit and trim, but her curves were a little larger and little looser than my wife's. Jenny's round ass was a mighty example of flesh rendered just large enough. Her breasts hung better on her than other women half her age, except for her daughter's slightly smaller but firmer tits.

I called her 'Jenny' from the start and tried to create a pleasant and informal atmosphere. Fortunately, Joclyn's grace was a direct descendant from her mother. We got along merrily. For the next two months I returned to my role of husband perfectus. I even let up my harsher treatments to Joclyn in our bedroom, and perhaps for the first time, my wife may have glimpsed of the possibilities of actually enjoying sexual intercourse. Of course it didn't not last, nor did I consider to what she might have associated that glimpse.

During the first two months of Jenny's company, I began a stealthy campaign to enslave her will. I employed the tools with which I was familiar. Every night, after my wife was asleep, I would sneak into my mother-in-law's room and apply a topical anesthetic to her calf. Once it's numbing effect had time to work, I stuck my needle into her muscle tissue and injected a carefully measured dose of the white horse. My doctor 'friend' was invaluable for advice. Heroin doesn't addict a person as quickly or as deeply when delivered into muscles. Only when it is mainline into the bloodstream does it take full hold of one's mind.

I didn't want to turn Jenny into a zombie over a weekend. I wanted something far more seductive. At first, the only signs of my activity were the occasional comments Jenny would make about her exceptionally peaceful dreams. She was sweet enough to ascribe them to the pleasant atmosphere of her daughter's home and to how very welcome she felt I had made her. It was close enough to the truth that I nearly laughed.

After several weeks of injections, I cut off her supply almost completely. Poor Jennifer didn't know what had happened. It was like something was suddenly missing in her life. She was quickly beset with headaches. She soon had difficulty getting out of bed and helping around the house. Her thoughts became confused and were easily distracted. I would occasional sneak to her bed and relieve her suffering, but only to ensure the addiction wouldn't peter out from cold turkey. After two weeks of Jenny's 'illness', I offered to bring a doctor to examine her.

Fortunately for my 'friend', he performed exactly as he was told. He gave her a perfunctory examination and prescribed a daily injection. He told her it was something that was going around, and soon she would be fine. I of course was the person in charge of the medication. I did not trust my 'friend' the doctor with more than a few doses for his playing part. I quickly volunteered to give the injections each morning. Jenny thought I was a dear to help her.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to what my wife thought, but Joclyn was more concerned with her fetal brat than her once again charming husband. When I left our bed, each morning, to administer to her mother, my wife would curl up and hug contentedly the basketball that had become her stomach.

Now that I was openly supplying a fix to my mother-in-law's habit, I began flirting with her more. I would play games with her about withholding the needle. When I injected her I would often target her vein, and then she was out like a light and sent to her own personal heaven for the rest of the day. I would fondle her beneath her bedclothes and jack off at her side. I probably could have fucked her, but I wanted her to know it when I did that. I wanted her to beg me.

Not too long thereafter, Jenny learned to fear when I teased her about withholding her treatment, because occasionally I would do so. I would complain that we were out, and I couldn't get to the doctor's that day. If she offered to go herself I would remind her how much her daughter needed her with the baby, now enormously pregnant with that grotesque creation of my loins.

I know that she and my wife looked for my stash of 'medicine', or perhaps the prescription, because Joclyn came to me one day and asked me about it.

"My love," I reassured her. "Let me fetch the doctor, and make sure we're following his exact orders. I think you mother's recovery is taking too long. We seem to run out of medicine so quickly."

"Perhaps we should find another doctor. I'm not sure I like this one." Joclyn suggested.

"Perhaps." I mused, plainly considering it. "First, I should ask your mother if she want's another doctor. If she's willing, I'm open to whomever you would like."

"Thank you, dearest." She brushed my forehead tenderly.

I smiled and stood up. I walked into her mother's room.

"Jenny?"

"Oh, son. Forgive me if I don't get up. I'm feeling so drained. Did you bring my shot?"

"Yes, I did mother." I took a syringe out of an interior pocket of my robe. "Unfortunately, I can't give it to you."

Her eyes shot open. "W-why not?"

"Well, your daughter, my dear Joclyn, has asked me to fetch another doctor and get his advice. You see, you haven't been recovering as well as we expected. If we were to send for a second opinion, I don't think it would be right to continue the treatment that was originally prescribed. I wouldn't want to make things worse."

She caught her breath.

Here was the turning point I had sought. I looked deep into my mother-in-law's eyes. My every pretense fell away, and for the first time she realized exactly the kind of person her son-in-law was and the position I had placed her in. She was my slave.

She gulped. "You t-take me too seriously, s-son. I'm feeling better every day. I just need a little start to get me going. You can see that, right? Son? I-I don't think we need to pay for another doctor's advice."

"Of course you are improving. I should have been more considerate. You look beautiful." I turned on my charm, but she knew it was just another facet of my horrible sham. She stared at me with a look of utter helplessness as I called her daughter to join us. Her face immediately brightened, deceptively, the moment Joclyn came in. I hid the syringe in my robe.

"It would be best if you told her, mother." I commanded in a natural tone.

She gave a big smile to her daughter. "Honey, you're so kind to think of me, but let's not jump to conclusions. I'm sure your husband's doctor is perfectly qualified and very experienced. I liked him."

"Okay, whatever you say mother. You seemed so distraught earlier." Joclyn knelt at her mother's bed.

"I was thinking more of myself than you. I'm here to help you, don't you remember."

"And here we are trying to help you. Are you sure you don't want to go back to dad? He's missed you."

"But I'm almost well. I would hate to waste an airline ticket to arrive home perfectly fit to assist here, let alone miss the celebration of your delivery."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

Jenny dared to look at me, with a quick glance. My eyes for her hadn't changed.

"That is what I want. Let me get a good night's sleep, and I'll be up singing and folding the laundry come morning."

They kissed, harmoniously. Joclyn returned to the living room. I smiled terrifically at my mother-in-law, and then I injected a full dose into her arm.

Jenny was up at dawn, folding clothes, but she wasn't singing. I went off to 'work', knowing that she could not now betray her need for the drug.

A couple days of freedom is all that one needle can give, before the cravings return. I woke up early one bright morning and went to Jenny's room. She looked like hell. She hadn't slept, and her head was no doubt pounding. I closed the door behind me and pulled out the syringe.

She licked her lips and gave me an 'anything' look.

My wife was in her last stage of pregnancy. I knew I could have sex with her right up to the day of delivery, theoretically, but my personal disgust for the thing that lived inside her robbed me of my desire to fuck my still fuckable wife. I had been getting blow jobs and ugly ass from my own hookers to sate my desires. Now I had a new toy to play with.

I placed the syringe on the dresser, well out of Jenny's reach. She stared at it longingly. She wasn't even distracted when I unzipped my pants and pulled down my briefs. I walked over to the bed, half naked. My cock jutted over the bed expectantly.

Joclyn's mother wasn't stupid, but she was naive.

"Please son, don't do this to me. I-I know you can be forgiven. Help me, and I'll pray for you."

"It's too late. The only thing you have left to pray to is this. Now get pray'n." My voice left nothing uncertain.

She looked down and reached out for my prick. I let her jack on it a for a little while, but when I brushed her hand away, she looked at me, questioningly. She had tears in her eyes. I pointed at her covers.

She could have been quicker to pull them down, but she wasn't slow. Again, I was struck by her beauty. Her curves were accented by a thin, power blue, negligee. Dark nipples hinted in just the right places. Her pubic hair was closely trimmed. If I were not already married to the loveliest creature on the earth, I would have set my sights on Jenny's one notch lower. My cock tried it's best to throw me on the bed, but I held back.

"Tell me, what do you want?" I commanded.

"Please, just give me my shot." Her last plea vanished into silence.

"It's right there on the dresser. I could get it for you, but I seem to have a problem."

"Wh-what?"

"I need to fuck you."

"Then just DO IT!" Her nerve finally shattered.

I slapped her face. "Shut up! I don't want another word of disrespect, or you'll never feel that needle."

"F-forgive me." She dripped tears directly onto the bed.

"I need you to beg me, bitch."

"Please, m-master," The word did please me. "Let me give you release."

"That's right my sweet, slave, bitch. Again, but with feeling this time!" I sneered.

"I-I beg you, master. Let me be your b-bitch. I would do anything for you, if only you would inject me."

"I will inject you mother, my bitch. Twice!" Still, I hovered over the bed.

She shook her head. "At least wear a condom, please..."

I hit her, hard.

She fell away to the bed and huddled naked before me. "But I might get pregnant!"

"This cock wears condoms only when it enters a diseased pussy. Are you diseased, cunt? Diseased cunts don't deserve this kind of medicine!" I pointed at the syringe.

"No. I'm not diseased. I've never made love to anyone but my husband." She fell to pieces. "It hurts so bad!"

"Love! Love is bullshit. I'm going to rape your three holes and you're going to beg me. Got that?"

I'll give her credit. She faced me when she finally spread her legs and begged me.

"Please son, fuck me."

I crawled into the bed and immediately placed my hand between her tits. I felt the negligee's thin material in my fingers. I could feel her heat through it. Her nipples were soft, exhausted as the rest of her. I rubbed her tits not gently, and I leaned over to stick my tongue down her throat. She only moaned from the pain in her head.

This wouldn't do. I had dreamed of more life from my conquest. Fortunately, I had the solution. I got up again and brought forth the needle. I injected her with a third of the fluid inside. In a few minutes, she was halfway between heaven and hell. Jenny looked at me more fearfully the second time.

I tore her nightgown off and told her to never wear clothes to bed again. She cried and nodded. I tied a gag over her mouth and raped her hard. My dick hadn't spent that much time in three wet holes for months. I poured enough cock juice into my new bitch to breed a dozen creatures like me. I didn't give a damn about laying a bastard into her, but I got turned on, all over again, at the idea. If I hadn't heard my wife begin to putter around, I would have fucked her mother all morning.

It was great fun, and I wanted to keep this new cunt around. So I fed her the rest of her medicine, and she dreamed until sunset.

Over the next few weeks, I took some real risks. I preferred to fuck Jenny when she wasn't in a stupor and when she wasn't jonesing. I'd catch her cleaning the bathroom and I'd have to have her. I'd poke my cock up her slit and into her ass even when her daughter was in the next room. Joclyn nearly caught her mother sucking on my cock one day when she came into the kitchen craving a snack. We pretended Jenny was sewing a button on to my pants, an emergency procedure. I left for 'an important meeting' immediately thereafter.

The safest times I threw a fuck into Jenny was when she was just going to bed. As per my orders she didn't wear any clothes. I would sneak into her room after telling Joclyn I was going to have a chat with her mother about her mother's health. (Jenny was doing much better now that she was getting regular shots.) I'd start out fucking her cunt and chewing on her tits, and then I'd stick a plug up her butt and force her on her knees to suck me. I never sucked her. I don't do that.

The funniest thing is, I think the old bitch started to like it rough. I'd be giving her some dick to cunt action and pinching her nipples or slapping her face and suddenly she'd start to cum, sometimes even before I shot a load of potent cum into her. To be sure, she hated my guts, but the intensity of her orgasms really surprised me. I thought the notion of women liking the rough shit was a figment of bad storytelling. Maybe she was faking it, but she didn't have any reason to. I'd fuck her just as hard if she never moved.

I began to fuck her harder. Jenny learned a new level of torment to her body. Soon she was sporting bruises and even deliberate scars. Only the regular doses of H gave her a measure of relief. I don't know how Joclyn was able to miss all the fucking that was going on under her own roof.

At her best, my mother-in-law didn't shirk her duties to her daughter. When the dreaded time came, Jenny told me in no uncertain terms that I could go fuck myself while she helped my daughter give birth. Both women knew that I refused to hire a doctor for the procedure, unless there was a threat to the mother. It would be 'family' thing, is how I spun the event. Only I wasn't included and didn't want to be. The moment my child screamed and sucked air into his lung for the first time, I was slapping the face of the doctor who owed me life itself as he sucked on my barely interested cock.

As every parent knows, the introduction of a child into a family changes everything. At least, that's how I expected it. Sure, the squalling lump woke me up at the worst times, and since I blamed my wife, while she went to coddle it, I crept into grandma's room and fucked her violently. I had expected the house junkie to leave within a month of the child's birth. She had her own husband to abuse her, and frankly, I was getting bored again. That she could cum when I was beating her tits with a leather belt was a new turn on for me, but even that paled as her skin began to wrinkle and grow cluttered with marks. The drug was having it's wasting effect. God, how I hate junkies! They never last.

Grandma kept inventing excuses to stay, (either the baby or its mother really needed an extra pair of hands), but when I promised her a month's supply of pure shit, she finally agreed to return home. Joclyn cried at the airline gate. Sonny boy bawled all the way back home. I was smiling. I had laced Jenny's departing supply of heroin with poison. I called grandma and warned her of the 'bad batch', adding my sincere apologies, hah!

I think Joclyn was surprised when I didn't immediately return to tying her up and raping her. She certainly wasn't looking forward to it, for my little black bag of toys had mysteriously relocated itself to the back of a walk in closet and under a pile of diapers. I didn't notice it for a week. I had much to think about.

What next? I felt strangely dispossessed of direction. So many things had fallen my way, except perhaps for the brat, although my run with granny had its high points. I reassessed my relationship with my wife. She seemed as devoted as ever, except, like any mother, the little piece of shit came first. She prepared my meals, and spread her legs, and talked about everything my son did and didn't do. I thought I wanted to fuck her silly and make her pay for bringing my sperm to fruit. But my efforts in the sack were meager shadows of my original passions. Her milk filled breasts were now much larger than her mother's. I enjoyed sucking on them as much as the brat did. I played with their milky streams until I grew bored again. I even tried playing the overjoyed father, but that lasted until the first time it puked on me.

With a terrible insight, I realized that I wasn't important anymore. All of my attempts to destroy this woman's life for my pleasure were now empty memories. She had found true fulfillment. I wondered if my still beautiful wife even loved me any more.

"Of course I love you. How would your son and I survive if we didn't have your strength to protect us?"

So, I was just a tool. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. She was suppose to be my ultimate trophy. I contemplated a dangerous plan to reverse this fate that had come upon me.

Many a stupid person would think that if I got rid of the child, much would be solved. Only, I'm a pusher and a pervert, not a murderer. I know my limits. The poison I gave Jenny was carefully calculated to look like an overdose, as prescribed by a doctor. He would take the heat if anything went awry. I was in the clear.

No, my plan had to do with usurping the defacto control my wife had over my life. Legally, I was her and the child's sole support. I may sell drugs to fools, but I pay my taxes. Some evils must be worshiped. I had a respectable audit trail all the way back to my first deals in high school. I was going to legally ruin my wife's credibility.

I started on my knees. I decided to break one of my rules, and I sucked that gorgeous woman's clit until she creamed heavily into my face. It didn't happen overnight. I had to work her up to it, but I told her that she deserved to feel joy in our marriage bed. I had been cruel only out of ignorance. I told her it was time I learned to give her more than my seed.

For nearly six months, we reignited our romance. I was determined to explore fresh methods of control. I already knew how to enslave a woman with drugs, but I didn't like the eventual results. Now, I knew that orgasms were no match for a mainline of china white, but I was willing to experiment. With a little luck, an orgasm might be an interesting gateway to even greater power.

By the time word of grandma's death arrived, I could console my wife in a new way. The old bitch had held out for more than four months. I can imagine how she tried to tough it out, time and again, trying to rid her neural receptors of their artificial dependency upon a superior opiate. But when it's as easy as reaching into a bag to ease the agony of withdrawal, Jesus himself would have poisoned himself with the shit.

I gave head to Joclyn nearly every night, for half a year. At the end of them, she might not have been hooked, but she sure looked forward to it. She started calling her cunt, her 'slurpee'. Of course, she never had called it her cunt. I rarely called it anything else.

One night, I observed her first, significant behavior modification. I was down and juicy, with several fingers stroking inside her cunt. My lips were perfectly curled around her aroused clit when the baby started caterwauling. Oh, shit there goes lunch, I told myself. But then I felt Joclyn's hands pressing the back of my head.

"Hurry baby, please! Don't forget to drain my slurpee all the way." She said with surprising vigor. I couldn't see her face, but it must have been torn between the need in her cunt with the duty of her station. I didn't disappoint her, but I didn't hurry either. I wanted to see just how long she'd let the brat wail before she went to him. When she finally bucked her loins into my head and spread her lubrication all over my face, I was most pleased. The kid had to yell for nearly two minutes. Finally, she rushed off. I toweled myself proudly.

I didn't let her first sign of sexual capitulation hasten my plans. I merely added a little more 'normal' sex into the mix. I fucked her slowly, bringing her to orgasm with my hands, as my cock rutted her. Again, ignorant men who think orgasms are won solely by prick technique, haven't had sex with more than one, unlucky bitch. Odds are, the second woman would have required more deliberate measures to please.

I could tell when Joclyn began to believe she lived in a perfect world. She had a healthy son. Her husband was dutiful, kind, and generous, and now that I had finally fulfilled her sexually as well as as economically, she could rest her worries, once and for all. I prided myself on being a master world builder. Soon I would earn the title, Destroyer of Worlds, to my credentials.

I felt a perverse pleasure, knowing that I would soon reach my ultimate goal of my wife's total corruption. It enabled me to stay focused on my efforts to undermine her goodness, just long enough to ensure it.

One day, Joclyn wept at my side after I announced that I had grown bored of her. Quite true. The moment her tears soaked into my tailored shirt, I knew that my gambit had won. She was now only a book I had written, and I could foresee the ending, needing only to be written on paper.

"Husband, perhaps there is another way I can please you?" She seemed eager to return the joys she had learned and had grown accustomed to. I acted perfectly sincere in pleasuring her, often faking my own climax.

"You please me that you are willing to continue our marriage. It is all I require." I told her. "But I have not found joy in our bed for many months. I grow weary of my efforts to please you there. It has have become a burden."

Her head fell.

"But life is not lost. You are my wife, whom I love beyond physical vows. Keep faith in that, remain true, and I shall never forsake you."

"Yes, my love." She wept openly. My shirt trembled in anticipation of future drenching.

I took the next step towards her doom months later. She had not been pleasured in bed in all that time. Her only comfort was taken in my lifeless arms at night and at her breast by day as she nursed the brat. I told her that formula was by far the more efficient and proper nourishment in modern times, but she defied me in that.

I realize now it was not a small thing. Her loneliness grew. I would not have been dutiful, if my next step had not sought to relieve her of sexual isolation, among other things.

It is true that I was a vile, enslaver of human lives and corruptor of their souls. In this I fed you, oh Master of all Evil, far more than the flesh of mine you swallow as I account my deeds. But, I was a man, and I found friendships that suited my human needs for company. Other beasts of man live upon the world and we found occasional fraternity. One man, a giant, black hulk, muscular and lean was Jim Ferris. He sometimes supplied me with my raw stock, but I was wise enough to not rely on a single source.

We often swapped lies about our cunning evasions of community servants who sought to capture us. We drank and boasted of our sexual conquests and laughed at the mighty we had brought low with primitive chemicals. He claimed to own an entire police precinct, one of his more reliable sources of shit.

I had never boasted of my wife to this man, and he occasionally asked about her, knowing I was married. I only told him, she was a plaything I used to keep honest appearances. I told him she was pretty enough, but lazy and stupid, and that she lay like a tuna in bed. I convinced him she was not worthy of his curiosity.

Now I began to reverse this impression. I casually commented that I had accidentally stumbled upon a dildo she kept hidden. I hinted that it was a bit lengthier than my more 'comfortable' size. I do not remember if I mentioned the first time that it was black. When I did, his eyebrows raised involuntarily. Jim and I conducted business together once in a while, and sometimes we were confidants of petty information, but we were primarily competitors and rarely shared our true emotions.

When I confided that my wife was wholly ignorant of my real business, he was intrigued enough to inquire further. Eventually, our conversations led to a invite to visit my home. I extracted his promise not to reveal our profession, warning him that my wife could not be trusted to keep it in confidence. I did not lie about that. Joclyn's moral fiber was likely stronger than our marriage bond. No, I needed something much stronger to bind her when I finally possessed her.

Jim did not hide his smile when I offered to share my home and table for an evening. He was totally blown away when my wife answered the door. Five years of marriage, the birth of a son, and the loss of her mother had left Joclyn's figure barely less than a goddess'. The purity of her soul never failed to enchant her smile. My utterly ruthless, occasional, business partner was reduced to a soft-spoken and polite guest before he even could enter our home. Yet in his heart, he smoldered like a log newly placed on a bonfire. No more than time was required before he burst into flame.

The dinner went famously. Joclyn had never entertained one of my equals in business, and instinctively she knew he was far more important than the rare idiot invited to lend credibility to my supposedly legitimate industry. She had outdone herself as hostess, dressing conservatively but alluring in her innocence, serving hearty food and rich desserts for powerful appetites, conversing intelligently but almost suggestive with sweet tones. My wife could not have been rightly accused of tempting Jim. He fell like a tree, his magnificence humbled by her chaste glory.

Still, I did not hurry my plan. It had to execute perfectly for reason greater than simple success. My goal was absolute victory, constructed solely by my will.

Similar to continuing her mother's injections in order to maintain her addiction, I would, once in a while, present myself to my wife and seduce her until she was personally satisfied, but I left her in full knowledge that I had not shared in her comfort.

Jim often asked to visit, and I did invite him again and again, after lapses undoubtedly painful to his patience. He was so blinded by his passion for my wife he failed to conduct himself as he once might. I lacked any contingency if he had simply invaded my home and raped her during one of my absences. Fortunately, the truly evil are often ignorant of good's power to ward corruption. I felt myself incredibly superior to Jim in that knowledge. I would triumph where he succumbed.

Already, you have deciphered my plan. I will not delay in telling it's course. My absences began to overlap periods where Jim was welcomed to visit. Joclyn must have felt great accomplishment in finding a new friend, one platonically committed to her. Jim could be coarse. More often he was jolly and bright. I'm sure my wife found him an imperfect but warm acquaintance. Truthfully, her godly soul could not restrain Jim's lust forever.

I was never far when they met, although I claimed distance. I was fortunately close enough to witness the inescapable event when it erupted.

Jim was nearly kissing sweet Joclyn when he finally took her in his arms and ravished her. She screamed, of course. Her belief in Jim's virtue shattered.

"Stop, Jim. Release me! This is madness!!"

"Teasing bitch, shut up!" Jim did not strike but shook her instead. He buried his face between my wife's breasts.

"I thought you were my friend!" She exclaimed.

"Damn, you smell like the freshest cunt." Jim was lost in his desire.

She lashed out with her hands and tried to kick him, but she was like tissue to his steel. "No! Get out!" His hand pressed into her skirt.

"Scream if that'll make it better for you. Today, I will not be denied."

She did scream, loudly and long, but what neighbor in this age of fractured community would dare aid her? Not that one would have survived Jim's determination.

His ripped her dress like it was cheese cloth and he threw her on the coffee table. Her naked, trembling body lay before him.

I spied them through a convenient window. My binoculars shook from excitement.

My wife might have escaped him, temporarily, as he unbuckled his trousers and heaved them to his knees. I smiled at her sudden lapse of fear, or was it a different fear that paralyzed upon the hard, cold, smooth wooden surface? A hard bound book pressed into the flesh of her back.

Jim's iron shaft transfixed her. I too was significantly impressed, not so much by it's size, but its strange expression spoke of overwhelming power. Did poor Joclyn's legs relax their defensive tightness somewhat in its presence? Their strength insignificant to her fate, Jim grasped her ankles and spread them like sheaves.

"God have mercy!"

"I am your god, bitch! Beg me for my blessing." The giant now smiled confidently.

"Never!"

He impaled her.

"AAAAHHHGGGGGG!!!!! NOOO!"

His cock fucked like a black, steam piston.

I didn't think even Jim could sustain fully fucking my wife for more than a minute, considering his pent up lust, but I was wrong. He lasted nearly two before his nigger sperm injected in between my wife's child bearing hips. If he impregnated her, it would just be more fuel for my own engine.

"Oooohh, Noo, I'm not protected!"

Jim shouted with his release. "I've got all the protection you need. I'll kill your husband if you like." He didn't slow his fucking even if his cock had begun to soften, as I imagined.

"No, he must never know!"

"Know what bitch?"

"Oh, god no, I- I'm cumming!!! OOooooohhhhh! Oooohhhhh!!" Her body convulsed with unwanted pleasure.

A smile the width of the river styx lit Jim's face like a bonfire. He waited for her to stop hollering before he withdrew his cum coated prick. But he had only begun. Jim grabbed Joclyn's hair and dragged her face before his drooping cock.

"Suck it."

My wife gave him only one pleading look before she knelt and bent to his will. Jim was better than I had expected. It was nearly time to make my move. I discarded an expensive pair of binoculars in my attempted un-haste.

The black giant wanted her mouth on his prick just long enough to return it to full mast. Her cunt had drained him too quickly for his ego. The second time he took her slowly and mauled every part of her fantastic body.

I know my wife came almost continuously from his deliberations. I was there, standing just out of sight of their pinhole pupils. He fucked her for nearly an hour before issuing a second load of his seed into my wife.

Finally spent, in so many ways, Jim raised himself to his feet. Sweet Joclyn nearly fainted from passions so fully released.

He discovered me then, standing a safe distance away.

I smiled with a satisfaction that could only have confused him.

He found clarity suddenly at the sight of the gun in my hands.

Joclyn screamed.

Before the mighty soiler of my bride could lunge, I shot him, perfectly.

I am not a murderer, I told you.

He fell to the floor grasping his thigh. Bright blood spilled between his fingers.

I ordered my wailing woman to go to our room.

She looked dreadfully at her rapist and ran up the stairs.

If I had killed Jim, all would have been ruined. By catching him in the act and wounding him seriously, I knew I would never have trouble from the bastard ever again. He knew I had every right to shoot his heart out of his rib cage.

I tossed him a hand towel from a carefully measured distance, weapon at the ready. He bound his wound efficiently, his lips curled in pure hatred.

Minutes after having raped my wife, Jim hobbled out of my house forever.

I locked the doors and bolted the windows. Then I replaced the gun in its rack in my den. Then I climbed the stairs.

Joclyn was a trembling heap on our bed.

I removed my clothes, contemptuous of her her rueful wailing.

I raped her.

Once more my cock buried itself into her cunt and her ass and then between her choking lips. She did not move one finger against me. I came twice but not in the hole already dripping with black spume.

She did not get pregnant.

It might have been due to the fact that she was still breast feeding the brat, which can act like a mild, contraceptive pill. I didn't care either way.

I owned her, completely. After fucking her so gloriously, so reminiscent of my first rape when she worn a bride's raiment, I spit upon her.

She flinched but did not speak.

I told her she was a whore that she was unfit for my bed and for being my wife.

She whimpered, fully ashamed. For we both had witnessed the power of her orgasms from the ministrations of another man. I didn't even have to mention it.

Instead, I played my ace. I told her she was unfit to be a mother.

She bolted up in terror! "You can't..."

"Shut up." I silenced her.

"If you ever try to, or even imagine that you can escape me, I will take your son away, and you will never see him again!"

She grasped my legs and pressed her face into my feet. "Please!"

"You will obey me."

"Yes!" She swore.

"You will never contradict me."

"Never!"

"You are nothing more than trash."

"Please, our son."

"Fuck him. I only want you, utterly and forever."

"I promise, husband." She stared up at me begging.

"Don't ever call me that again."

She dropped her head. "Yes, Sir."

"Now go stuff something in that brat's face and smother his screeching. I'm sick of it."

She raced from the room to touch her son.

In that one regard, I was weak. I should have tossed the kid into some abusive foster care family, but he was my one, perfect hold on my wife's total capitulation."

From now on, I would rule my house with an iron fist.

I should have taken a lesson from my wife's continuing strength. With her son in her care, she never fell completely apart. The house remained tidy and efficient, even when I brought junkie whores and jail bait home who often trashed the place If they didn't, I would thunder in from a night of serious drinking and smash everything in my way, including my beautiful wife.

I would rape my wife to remind her of her place, but I never again gave her an orgasm. I only restrained myself from cutting her in obvious places, but her ass and torso and thighs and cunt were a maze of scars.

I should have seen her quiet strength, but I was too confident in my perfect victory. She never raised herself against me, but as has been said before, 'When in strength the fawn lives, so does the buck give'.

Twelve years into my marriage, the father of my bride heaved a wood axe through my face. He caught me sleeping in my bed. It had taken the simple fool, nearly a decade to piece together what had happened to his beloved wife and his dearest daughter.

Every plan has it's wrinkle.

My Master guffaws and nearly chokes upon my fetid corpse. "This is the sin of your wife, to summit to your evil? That is no sin."

"Wait, Supreme in Hell, before you grind my skull in your teeth. Let me conclude."

The Master stared, his black eyes burned into my rotting skin.

"Poor Joclyn was left with nothing. Every potential source of comfort died with me. Her father was imprisoned for my murder. My business was quickly taken over by Jim, but he lost all emotion for Joclyn after seeing the scarred flesh I had left for him."

"My wife was able to establish a small income from savings she had invested, secretly. In that she had defied me, but it is a pittance, and she barely escapes a hand to mouth existence."

"You ANGER me, fool!" The Master chomps my torso neatly in twain. "Your bride's theft is no sin."

"I must explain!" I screamed and did not wait for the next bite. "To my bed, she has taken the child of my corrupt seed!"

My remains drop from his slackened grasp. The neck that connects my maggot ridden face to my crushed body snaps as I fall upon sharp rocks.

Suddenly, I am buried beneath such vomit as a land fill might contain. His stomach acids dissolve my flesh and bone.

"Now I understand, you thing that was once a man." The Prince of Darkness laughs once, and sneers. "She has one comfort left in all the world. It is the thing you hate most of all, a shadow of your own self.

"I like it." He laughs again.

My last words escape as I vanish from immediate existence. "I beg you, let her pass above."

"That is not my privilege. I punish only those who arrive, but I can see into the future and know her reward." His bony heel grinds my half digested remains into the rocks. "Even better, I know your eternal punishment. These initial torments have been but play as I am wont to do with new toys.

"Hear this day, your fate." My master proclaims. "Even now, as your son pokes his young cock into the holy place that gave him life, there are those who smile. They write in their books, and they type upon their machines. They have heard this story, as it is legend from the beginning of life. Their aroused pricks and cunts juice at the thought of it.

"This mother is an archangel, neither held high nor fallen as her son crawls up her skirt. She lives between heaven and hell, joyous, yet grieved. Above her, the father morns for his own secret lust. Below her, lies you, the dreck that was discarded.

"Eternally reviled in lore,

"Where the son assumes your place,

"In every story where mother is whore,

"All shall learn of the husband's disgrace."
The End