Defending His Right

The torturous feminine laugh of his wife further buried him in shame. Wincing he crawled from the ring as John turned towards his beloved Jazzy and waved her in to join him. Pinching his nose shut he hurried towards the restroom, his eyes filled with moisture. Davis refused to cry in front of the man and the woman he hoped to garner respect from.

Jasmine was a bit nervous when John invited her into the ring. He had easily trounced Davis, seemingly for no reason. Jasmine wasn't sure but she thought that maybe it was for her benefit.

"Alright are you ready, Jasmine?"

"Yes, I think so. Just don't do that to me," she whispered in awe of the speed and grace the man possessed.

"Don't worry. That type of training is more effective for men. Women very rarely will have to face down their attackers like a fighter would. We'll work on some grapples and breaks with you before we get into striking."

Jasmine felt a little appeased by the answer but didn't know what breaks were or how to perform a grapple.

"Okay. How did the men in the apartment approach you?"

"From behind," she said, her voice fading as she remembered the moment.

"Exactly. Almost always, attackers and rapists will approach their victims from behind. It gives them less time to respond and react. Some self defense experts recommend screaming and calling for help, but I believe that women need to be capable of getting themselves free of a situation to go get help. So, I want you to turn around and face away from me." John waited till she had looked the other way. He took the opportunity to appraise the tight little ass she possessed and the beauty of her smooth long legs. "Good," he muttered, referring to her body and not her obedience.

Jasmine wasn't an idiot and picked up the tone of voice that a man uses for double entendres. Instead of feeling offended, she felt grateful that she was being admired by a real man.

"Okay, I'll be your attacker. I'm going to jump on you from behind. Your job is to get free. I'll try and behave as realistically as possible. Ready?"

"Yes, I think..." before she could get out the so, she felt John's powerful arms grab her shoulder and spin her around. A heavy muscular leg snaked between her own and tripped her up just even to drop her to the ground. Before she could react any further, the knee had dropped between her thighs, forcing her legs apart, and exposing her to her "rapist".

Jasmine managed to swing one hand at the side of his head, but it was quickly engulfed in a massive palm and fingers and driven back to the mat. As her other hand spun upward simultaneously it too was hammered back to the mat. Too fast for her reaction time, they were brought together and clenched down by one mighty hand.

Then everything was silent and still.

Jasmine was breathing hard as she squirmed beneath John. His knee was pressed firmly into her groin and her hands were immobilized. She was entirely helpless to whatever he wanted. But all that roamed her body then were his eyes, drinking in her breasts as they heaved beneath the tight synthetic material that cradled them. She felt a little violated, watching her instructor drink in her body like it was item to be taken. Then with a regretful look he released her and quickly pushed himself back up to his feet.

"Let's try that again. You reacted too late. If you're on the ground before you can strike you've already lost."

For a moment she stared up at him, his imposing frame, and all the speed and power she now knew he was capable of. Jasmine pushed herself from the ground, determined to be faster the next time.

When she faced away from him she waited, waited for any signal that he was about to pounce. Silent seconds ticked away, her heart racing and her body braced for balance. Then she felt it in the mat, a springiness that belied movement. She tensed as she felt his arms wrap around her waist. Her elbows flew back then up again then back again. She managed sharp jabs into his forearms with her elbow to little affect. A leg of his once again swept underneath her and she found herself tumbling backwards, his body beneath hers.

Even before she had registered the fall John had pushed back up, his thick legs pushing their two bodies over, so that she was face down beneath him. Once more a single hand gathered up hers, and another found its way into her hair. He grinned as his erection pressed between the tightly clothed mounds of her backside. John liked doing doggy style, it gave him control and that was what his life was about.

Jasmine panted beneath him, her own attempts at escape futile and her blows useless. She could feel the heat of his body as it pressed against hers and she knew that he could take whatever he wanted from her once more. She was certain that his eyes were tracing the curves of her body and enjoying the sensation that their contact elicited. The only disgust she felt was for herself and the ease with which he had captured her.

As Davis emerged from the rest room, his nose plugged with toilet paper, John released his hold on her and stood. He could see the sudden spark of interest that the husband had in his teaching habits, but also knew that Jasmine was desperate to feel control once more. Any conflict would be won by the wife and not the spineless husband.

"One more time, then we'll try Davis again." A bitter and pissed off Jasmine pushed up, gave her husband an angry glance and then turned to face away from her instructor.

"Don't be afraid to use your surroundings. Grab a hold of something if you need to try and stay up. Don't worry about hurting me. You can't worry about your attacker. Right?"

"Right!"

"Good. Now are you, ready?"

"Yes."

"Lets get it on." John had chosen the phrase to amuse himself. He knew that Jasmine at least might see something of a pun in it and perhaps the pussy man would too. Once more he admired his pupil's body, waiting to strike. She was tense, as before, and he was eager. His gym shorts were still struggling to hide his engorged member. He wanted to be on top of her again.

This time he went with the hair, grabbing the pony tail she had with one reach of the arm and pulling her to the side and back. Jasmine stumbled her eyes wincing in pain, but she managed to keep her balance. Trying to pull away from John only increased the burning of her hair at the scalp and she found herself spun repeatedly around the ring. Tiring of his game, she drove forward quickly, the length of her hair allowing her make contact with his torso. It was John's turn to stumble and at the last second Jasmine hooked his ankle just enough to spend him sprawling.

All the while, John never released her hair and Jasmine found herself laying across him, between his thighs. She paused thinking she had won and was given a moment to feel something hard pressing into her stomach. But the sensation was fleeting and John had rolled them over and straddled her chest. His body weight pressed down into her breast, and he maintained his hold on her hair.

Jazzy was face to face with a very tented pair of shorts, and a sudden warming sensation in her stomach silenced her. John leered down happily at his prey allowing the suggestive shaping in his pants indicate his desires. Then he pushed up off of her, leaving her on the mat, her mouth dry and eyes wide.

Already, Davis was climbing into the ring. The little displays he had witnessed between his wife and instructor were pissing him off. John just continued to stare down at Jasmine, his back turned on Davis. A little phrase intended for her husband did all that was needed.

"Try it."

"Try this, jackass!" Davis said as he lurched forward his face beet red with anger.

His raised fist was caught by a whirling backhand and once more he found himself stumbling to the floor. Wincing he pushed back up, charged again, and was rewarded for his efforts by a disapproving slap to the back of the head.

"First rule of fighting is never fight angry. If you're pissed, you don't think straight."

Davis wasn't really listening, just charging again. This time the slap was more forceful and caught him on the side of the cheek. He felt as if he was being reduced to a child right before his wife and right before himself.

"Fuck you," he yelled as his arms whipped out. Some of the blows actually landed on John, but none did any injury. Instead John dealt him the most injurious blow of all. A knee right to the groin. That ended the fight right away. Davis doubled up and crumpled to the floor, the haunting whimper creeping from his lips once more.

Jasmine was sitting in the corner against the post watching her husband try and defend his honor. It was embarrassing. Even she could see the wide sloping angles his fists took and the delay that each attempt at a blow carried. John was by far his master. When she heard him begin to whimper she knew that it was over. She accepted John's outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

They stood inches apart, evaluating each other silently, weighing options, actions, and possibilities. Then they broke apart.

"Time's up," John called as he gave Jasmine one last pointed look. Wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, he hopped from the ring, his erection swaying proudly in front of him. He gave his clients one last glance as he entered his office and shut the door. Jasmine was standing over her husband, hands on her hips, a disproving sneer covering her cute mouth.

By the time they managed to gather up Davis and leave the building, John was furiously masturbating in his office, thinking about all the things that he would do to the young woman he was teaching. And how humiliated her husband would be when he found out.

Davis was exhausted, his ego and body beaten and bruised by the day in the gym. When Jasmine's car pulled in behind him and she followed him up the steps, he let a bit of it out.

"What the hell were you doing in there with him? Letting him touch you all over like that?"

"Fuck you. He was acting like any other rapist would. Since I don't have a husband who can protect me, then I had better learn to do it myself."

"Yeah right, acting. You saw the goddamn erection he had. He wasn't acting. The fucking prick. Then beating up on me because I bothered to interfere."

"Ha. He didn't even beat you up. He just made you look like a fool. John would never whimper like you did. No man would. You just curl up in a ball and cry and let other men do whatever they want with your wife. If you were a real man you would've stopped it."

Neither Davis or Jasmine were sure if they were talking about the initial rape or the instruction at the gym.

"That's the last time we're going."

"Yeah right. I'm going back with or without you. I'm not getting raped again," Jazzy yelled at her husband.

"Fuck you!"

Davis stormed up the stairs as best he could. He had to step gingerly, unknown aches and pains were popping up all over his body. It wasn't even that late, but he sprawled himself on his bed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick away the time. At some point he would fall asleep, his mind reeling from its ordeal.

Sleep would come less easily for Jasmine that night. By the time she crawled into bed next to Davis, still in her gym clothes, her mind had turned to other things. Like sex. She had not had any since her attack and had been increasingly aroused by everything. The time in the gym had been especially arousing for her. Being around a man was strong, confident, and capable of taking what he wanted, was suddenly very arousing. The smell of her sweat on her body increased the vividness of her memories.

Quietly, laying next to her sleeping husband, Jazzy slipped a hand down the spandex shorts that hit her most precious center. Practiced touch slid downward, parting her aching lips, finding them already moist and hot. With a small gasp, she pressed one into her vagina, feeling its sensitivity and long delayed release. Back and forth that digit would rock in her opening, held tight to it by her bottoms. The wetness there was building, but the one finger was not capable of getting her what she desired. With her eyes closed she imagined John pinning her on the ground exploring her with his own longer fingers at will.

She was so close, but so far away. Her arousal overtook everything else, and for the first time in a great while she looked at Davis, that look in her eye. She squirmed her tight little ass from her shorts and dropped them to the side. Rolling out from beneath the covers she straddled him, and watched as his eyes opened in surprise.

It took him a moment to register what was happening, but once he caught sight of her naked pussy lips and the liquid glow they carried, he knew what she wanted. Davis mistook it for something else though- believe that his wife was apologizing or trying to repair things through sex. Not one to refuse, his hands jerkily went to her top and peeled it off of her tits.

The two full globes fell free for the first time in eight hours and the nipples perked up at the naturalness of the air's caress around them. Jazzy let out a little moan of delight as Davis' hands began to roam her body, feeling out once familiar nooks and crannies and erogenous zones. Her hips were rocking back and forth on the growing erection in his own gym shorts, pinning it to his stomach. Her cunt left a wet trail across the polyester material that would absorb in, then be released by more fluids as she gyrated.

Davis would not notice that her eyes were closed, that she wasn't looking at him. He wouldn't hear the soft repeated whispers of another man's voice. All he could hear was his own desire and his own believed victory. Jazzy was being no help, so he shifted his hips enough to slide his shorts a bit farther down on his legs. Just enough to free his cock from its trap.

The sudden sensation of naked flesh against her labia perked Davis' wife right up. Her long legs lifted her from her press and allowed his cock to stab upward, brushing against her twat. With an excited groan she slipped backward, allowing her husband's long slender cock to penetrate her fully for the first time in a great while. Her fingers dug into his chest as she began to quickly and eagerly ride up and down on his shaft.

Jasmine loved the sensation of being filled by cock and had lied to her husband about being a virgin when they married. She had many partners and had enjoyed sex to the point of it being an art form before settling down. Now her practiced vaginal muscles seized and jerked over the long rod penetrating and filling its channel. Her arousal made their fucking smooth and efficient. Jazzy could lift her pussy three to four inches off his cock before burying it entirely in her again.

She barely registered his voice as it cried out that it was close. It did so only to remind her that she had to finish quickly. Davis had not been inside a pussy in sometime and it was only natural that his ability to restrain himself would have eroded by the delay. Jasmine eagerly fucked herself up and down on the dick buried in her, still imagining someone else's body beneath her. Over and over again she slammed her crotch back down onto her man's letting it push to its furthest depths. A loud grunt signaled that Davis was coming and she felt the familiar burst of heat inside her as his come splashed over her pussy walls. Jazzy was so close, as his dick spasmed the last of its seed from its tip. Angrily, she ground her pussy down onto him, trying to eke out her own release.

But it was to no avail. Davis was a loud partner and his voice and the swiftness of his orgasm had brought her out of the fantasy world she had been so aroused in. She found herself sitting atop her husband's softening cock, listening to his whimpering of pleasure. Jazzy was somewhat surprised by her actions but the intensity of her arousal was overwhelming and she desperately needed to come.

For a bit she tried grinding herself off on his body and limp penis, but with no results. Angry, disappointed, and saddened, Jasmine rolled off of Davis and left him wondering what in the hell had just happened.

The next morning was more confusing to Davis. He had woken after a good night's rest, thinking that everything would be different. Even the ugly bruises that covered much of his body didn't dissuade them from this notion. When Jazzy woke besides him, he was quickly informed that no such change had happened and that she was merely horny. Disoriented, he would stumble off to work, puzzling through his life and its meaning. More depressed than ever he would return home to a house devoid of love, comfort, or affection.

The dream would return that night and the night after. And each time he woke, his wife would be staring out the window, same as always, seemingly incapable of sleep. For Jasmine, the truth was in a growing obsession. She had been unable to sleep, to be sure, but her memories of evening she had spent beneath the strange men had begun to change. As she would lay awake, looking past Davis, past their room, past the house, and into the universe, she would find herself pinned once more, but this time by John. His member would be pounding in and out of her and his snarling visage would be cheering her on as she cried out in pleasure.

By the time Saturday came around, both members of the couple could not wait to return to the self defense lessons. Davis thought that maybe the ongoing physical activity and fighting would break Jasmine loose and that the sex would not have been a one time thing. Jasmine had an undeniable itch to scratch, one that she had found herself incapable of. She was fairly convinced that John was the only one would be able to.

Davis had worn his gear the entire of the way, although his wife's clothing had remained carefully hidden beneath a warm up suit. As they entered the warmer air of the gym and she removed her shoes, tops, and bottoms, he understood why. As did John. Jasmine had worn a bathing suit of sorts. It was a bikini top, one intended for athletic swimming, and the bottoms were a tiny pair of boy shorts. Little was left to the imagination for either men and both had a series of mental thoughts go trolling by as they pondered the possibilities her body offered.

John was especially excited by the outfit. He had felt something of the connection with Jasmine and knew that her desire to have a strong man would create strange and conflicting emotions within her. The fact that her husband was such a weakling would only magnify those feelings. His erection pulsed as she bent at the waist and tied her ankle guards on. Her beautiful ass pulled the tight material higher and higher up until a good portion of her cheeks were on display. He was pretty certain that he could make out the cleft of her pussy beneath the bottoms as well.

For Davis, the moment was a torturous one. At first he thought the display was for him, then the startling recollections of their previous visit came rushing back. The show Jasmine was putting on was an offer intended for John. Davis would be damned if he allowed what had happened the previous week occur again.

"Alright, Davis. You want to go first," John asked. He intended to beat the snot of the boy until he could take his wife on the mat.

Davis saw through the ploy. A twisting knot formed in his stomach as he realized this would be a battle of wills. He hoped that the two years of marriage and the several years of dating that he and Jasmine had shared meant more then the viciousness of her assault. His answer was guarded and cautious: "No. Jasmine can go first. I'm going to stretch a bit."

"Fine by me. That okay with you Jazzy?"

Flinching as he heard his pet nickname for his wife used by another man, Davis bent to stretch. In reality, he was hiding his burning red face and watering eyes. Jasmine meant the world to him, and he could not, would not lose her.