7 Sins: Wrath

Cyanlot's Forward

The stories in the 7 Sins collection of stories are not to be taken as morality tales, underscoring the seriousness of these alleged sins--well, not all of them, anyway. Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, greed, sloth, and wrath might all be character flaws, or even "sins", I suppose. But they're not the worst by far. How about selfishness, indifference to the suffering of others, cruelty?

The traditional seven deadly sins are just an organizing device for a set of stories. I wasn't the first author on Literotica to think of this vehicle. If you search "Seven Deadly" and '7 Deadly" on Literotica, you'll find lots of other stories using this device. If I'd known this before writing my own stories, I might have abandoned the project, but I didn't find this out until I'd written six of my own stories. So, giving due credit to the others who thought of this, too, I've chosen to publish my own "7 Sins" series.

Each story is independent of the others. There are no recurrent characters in them and there's no recommended order in which they should be read. They vary in length and in the themes explored.

Comments are always appreciated, even negative ones if they are thoughtful. But there's no need to leave comments of the following sort:

• "This story describes instances of unsafe sex--of people having casual oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse without protection." True, so true. It's a fantasy, numbskull, not a script to be followed.
• "I would behave very differently than the character in this story." Good for you! This story isn't about you.
• "Cyanlot is a sick puppy!" Well, no ... I'm fine, thank you. My stories don't convey some deep, dark yearnings. They're just stories.

One final note. I'm trying to place all of these in the "Gay Male" category even though several contain no gay male activity. Many do and, so, that seems the best category for the collection. I'll tag them as appropriate.

Enjoy the series ... or not.

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7 Sins: Wrath

["Wrath (Latin: ira) can be defined as uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. Wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. In its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate that may provoke feuds that can go on for centuries. Wrath may persist long after the person who did another a grievous wrong is dead. Feelings of wrath can manifest in different ways, including impatience, hateful misanthropy, revenge, and self-destructive behavior, such as drug abuse or suicide." - Wikipedia]

"Whatever is begun in anger, ends in shame." (Benjamin Franklin)

Part I: The Provocation

What does a man do when his wife has completely humiliated him? If he's really a man, he doesn't stand for it; he takes action to re-establish his dignity.

I thought that Ellen and I had a great relationship. We were young and healthy. We'd been married for five years and had been putting off starting a family until we felt financially secure. Now we did. Our careers were going well and we'd finally bought a house. And, now that we'd checked all the boxes, we were ready to start a family.

From every indication I had, everything seemed great. Ellen and I were living the American Dream.

That's why her infidelity hit me like a bolt from the blue--right between the eyes. I had no hint that there was a problem.

Ellen cheating on me was terrible. The mere thought of her with another man made me sick to my stomach. As soon as I found out, I couldn't help but visualize her kissing him, pulling him to her, taking his hard cock between her beautiful lips, and spreading her legs for him to enter her, filling her pussy with his shaft and his cum.

But it was much worse than that. When I confronted Ellen, she was completely without shame or even regret. Indeed, to my complete surprise, she seemed defiant. She never said the words but still she conveyed the attitude of: "Yeah, I fucked him. So what?"

It was a burning knife in my back. But, then, she turned it. Still without shame or embarrassment--maybe even with pride--she went on to tell me that she had been seeing fucking this guy, Lucas, for many months. Those girls' nights out had really been a night out for only one girl, Ellen, to meet up with Lucas. Those texting sessions hadn't been with her sister, but with Lucas, which hurt more when I recalled how Ellen had giggled during these exchanges and told me "it was nothing" when I asked what she and her sister were laughing about. And, she seemed to take pleasure in telling me that the weekend that I'd been away to visit my folks, Lucas had stayed with her in our house, sleeping with Ellen and fucking her in our marital bed.

My life was shattered. Everything I'd believed about my relationship with Ellen was a lie. She wasn't the loving wife who was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with me, raising our kids and growing old together. She was a heartless--in fact, cruel--slut.

But there was more to come. And it would crush me.

Ellen had one more secret to reveal, one that was unbearably hurtful. She knew it would be but, still, she revealed it casually, as if just catching me up on a trivial news item.

"Oh, and by the way," Ellen said in an upbeat tone. "I got some wonderful news this morning."

I was flustered, wondering what could possibly be good news in the midst of Ellen's shattering my world with her unrepentant infidelity. I didn't say anything but I guess I looked perplexed.

Ellen went on, unprompted, "I'm pregnant, silly! Isn't that great?"

I was stupefied. Finally, I sputtered, "It's not a great time for us to be having a baby, Ellen--not when our marriage is so rocky."

"Oh, Justin ... it's not yours!" She smiled. "Lucas and I are going to have a baby!"

I sat stunned into silence for a long moment. Then I said, "How do you know who's the father?"

"Oh, I'm sure. I've been very careful for months. When I was ovulating, you were nowhere near my uterus. Remember those times when I had a headache or I gave you a handjob instead of fucking you?"

I did remember. And it hit me like a sledgehammer. Ellen's pregnancy, that she was so excited about, was no accident. It was painstakingly planned. The woman I thought was my loving wife was, in fact, a sadistic monster who, for reasons I couldn't fathom, had set about on a campaign of cruelty to destroy me.

I couldn't stand to be in the same room with her now. I went to our guest room and slammed and locked the door. Once alone, I began sobbing uncontrollably.

Sleep would have been a pleasant relief from the pain but it eluded me completely. My emotions were churning. They were also changing. First, I was hurt--crushed, really. Then I felt embarrassment. How could I not have seen any signs of this? And, then, shame. What was wrong with me that Ellen needed someone else? What was it about me that provoked such cruelty in Ellen? And those thoughts led to humiliation. I was inadequate--a loser.

As the long and painful night wore on, I left behind all of those emotions. My psyche became filled with anger--rage, really. I needed some way to deal with what had happened to me and anger fit the bill. It worked for me. Anger is an easy emotion. It is directed outward, externalizing the source of any problems you have. It was what I needed.

I began fantasizing about finding Lucas and Ellen in bed together and shooting them both dead. (I didn't even own a gun, but that didn't stop me from fantasizing.) I ran through variations on this. Maybe I'd shoot Lucas in the balls first, blowing them off and letting him bleed out in front of Ellen, before I killed her. Maybe I wouldn't kill him but, instead, castrate him in front of Ellen and let him live the rest of his life as a eunuch.

None of that made much sense. If I let him live, he'd surely extract revenge on me. If I killed either of them, I'd surely be caught and spend the rest of my life in prison. Still, there was a kind of comfort in these fantasies.

As the morning light crept in through the window, my anger had led me to a more practical approach. There was nothing I could do to win Ellen back. Her casual cruelty toward me made that abundantly clear.

Our life together was over. But I could regain some of my self-respect, my dignity, by confronting Lucas. And, when I say "confronting", I mean beating the crap out of him!

Not only would that not save my marriage, it wouldn't be the sort of permanent destruction of Lucas's and Ellen's happiness that I so desperately wanted to effect. But, not finding a good way to do that, I settled on the plan to regain my self-respect by beating Lucas to a bloody pulp and, then, walking away from my relationship with Ellen with my head high.

And, I decided, there was no time like the present. My anger would be my secret power. Strike while the fury's hot, I told myself. I felt the energy of my anger surging through my body. For the first time since Ellen destroyed my life with her revelations yesterday, I felt powerful.

I snuck into our bedroom while Ellen was still asleep and grabbed her phone. She never put any security on the phone so it was easy to open it and find Lucas's address in her contact list. I left Ellen's phone on the kitchen counter. I liked the fact that she would wake up to find it missing from her nightstand and wonder why that was.

Part II: Revenge Served Hot

It was about 8:00 am when I got to Lucas's house. It was an okay house but nothing special. Whatever Ellen saw in Lucas, it wasn't a sugar daddy. It gave me some satisfaction to think that, at least economically, Ellen would be downgrading.

Instead of ringing the doorbell, I banged on the door with my fist. That somehow seemed more forceful--demanding, rather than requesting, that he answer the door.

When Lucas opened the door, I pushed past him into the foyer. I didn't want this to unfold on the front porch, where neighbors could see it and call the cops to put a stop to what I was planning for Lucas.

Lucas was a big man. He had several inches and more than a few pounds on me. And he looked pretty ripped. But, I reminded myself, rage is my secret power. I can take this guy if I use the force.

"You God damned fucker!" I screamed at him, my face contorted in a way that should have given him pause.

The asshole responded calmly, "You must be Justin." He said it like he was meeting me at a cocktail party. "It's good to meet you finally."

"Good to meet me?! Fuck you!" I yelled. I was furious--consumed with rage. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"

And, with that I threw my first--and, as it turned out, my last--punch at Lucas. It was a roundhouse right, aimed precisely at Lucas's jaw. That's where it was aimed; it's not where it landed.

Lucas, seemingly effortlessly, batted my arm away with his left hand and, then, landed his own blow with his right. I felt myself stagger and then everything went dark.

I awoke sometime later, groggy and confused, to find myself tied up, spread-eagled, on a bed. Lucas was nowhere to be seen. I struggled with my restraints but to no avail.

"Let me out of here," I screamed, not knowing whether Lucas was even in the house. He was, though, and my scream brought him into the room.

"Oh, good," Lucas said, "you're back with the living." He approached the bed. "So you were coming here to beat me up, huh? How'd that work for you?"

From this perspective, it looked like a stupid plan. Hindsight's 20-20. But all I said was, "Untie me!"

"Not so fast, Justin." And he added with a bit of a chuckle, "How do I know you're not going to try to punch me again?"

"Just let me go!"

"No, Justin. We've got some things to get straight, first." I pulled ineffectively at the ropes. I knew they wouldn't come loose but somehow this made me feel as if I was at least trying to get out.

"The first thing we need to settle, Justin, is: who's the man here? And we don't want there to be any backsliding on the answer to that once it's settled. So, you'll excuse me for a few minutes while I get set to document our discussion."

I had no idea what he was talking about until he came back into the room with a tripod and a camera. He set it up, pointing the camera at me on the bed. I saw the red flashing light indicating that the camera was recording.

Lucas checked the camera to verify that it was aimed well to "document" my predicament. Seemingly satisfied with the set up, he walked over toward me.

"First, Justin, there's just the simple physical test of "who's the man?" Lucas said, as I saw him raise a pair of scissors I hadn't noticed he'd been holding. Lucas brought the scissors to the leg of my pants and began cutting them off. I rocked violently, no doubt making it harder for him to complete his plan. But I couldn't stop him. And my protests were, predictably, to no avail. In a few minutes, he had cut off all of my clothes, leaving me completely naked.

I glanced over at the camera. The damned red light was flashing. I was certain that Lucas would be showing this to Ellen. No doubt they'd have a good laugh together at my plight.

Lucas walked over, grabbed the camera and held it over me, focusing on my dick.

"There, now we have a good close-up of your 'manhood', as people call it. How about a comparison?"

With that, Lucas began stripping off his clothes. I saw that my initial impression that he was ripped was right. This guy had a physique like a male model, lean, angular, with well-pronounced muscles.

When he pulled off his pants and boxers, I saw that he had a few inches on me in that department, too. Even soft, his cock put mine to shame.

He walked in front of the camera, giving a good closeup of his cock. "Well," he said, "there's certainly a big difference in that department. At least it looks that way. But, maybe you're not a 'shower' but a 'grower'. We'll find out," he added ominously.

"You know, Justin, size isn't everything, though," he said as if he was educating me. "Don't believe it when a girl says 'size doesn't matter'. It does. They say that to guys who disappoint and then they seek out, or at least fantasize about, guys that will really stretch their cunts."

"Size does matter," he went on. "But it's not the only thing that matters. Women like a man who is dominant, powerful. Oh, they'll marry betas if those betas are 'good providers', but what they lust after is an alpha male."

How long was this humiliating lecture going to go on? I wondered. But soon, Lucas got to the point.

"So, Justin, who do you think is the dominant male here?"

Well, that was fucking obvious. I was tied to a bed, splayed out and vulnerable. Lucas was in charge. But he had a more tangible test in mind.

"Let's find out, Justin," he began. "Don't you think that you can figure out the dominance hierarchy by seeing who services who?"

"Fuck you!" I yelled. "I'm not 'servicing' you!"

"We'll see about that, Justin."

With that, Lucas pulled something out of a drawer in his dresser. As he walked toward me, I saw that it was one of those ring gags I'd seen in BDSM porno flicks, the kind that holds a woman's (or, I shuddered to think, a man's) jaws open but allows access to her mouth. Despite my violent resistance, Lucas strapped the gag around my neck, rendering my mouth and throat vulnerable to his penetration and leaving me with no ability to prevent or punish that invasion.

Lucas walked around next to the bed and lay his cock, which was already beginning to swell in anticipation, next to my cheek. "Let's see who does the servicing," he said, as if there was anything to be seen. Well, I guess there was something to be seen, but there was no doubt about what it would show.

I gagged as Lucas shoved his cock into my vulnerable mouth. I felt the shaft harden as he used my tongue and throat to excite it. My mouth salivated--not with excitement, I reassured myself--but as a defense against the intrusion.

Apparently, it wasn't enough for Lucas to humiliate me by turning me into his unwilling cocksleeve. He had to abuse me further by spewing a line of gab.

"There you go, Justin. That's good. You're doing a great job servicing my alpha cock."

The truth was, I wasn't servicing him at all. He was just using my mouth for his pleasure.

"You like having a big, hard cock in your mouth, don't you. I mean, you don't have one between your legs, do you. So, this is the only way you can have a big dick, right?"

Even if I'd wanted to answer, with his cock filling my mouth, all I could have done was mumble. He didn't really expect an answer, though. This was just about humiliating me further.

"There, now, you see. You've done your job. My cock is all slick with your spit and you've gotten it hard with your mouth. Good job! Now you can admire an alpha cock and know that you've done your duty by it."

Lucas pulled out and displayed his hard cock above my face, turning to the side for a moment, probably to make sure the camera got a good angle on it. Then, he turned back so that his rigid rod, still wet with my saliva, stuck out inches above my face.

"Now that you've used your mouth to get me hard, we can compare size again. Of course, it's not fair to compare my hard cock to yours when it's not aroused."

He stepped back and, then, to my everlasting shame, I heard him say, "Oh, wait ... you are aroused, aren't you?"

It was only then that I realized that my cock was standing up at full mast.

"Well lookie here at this cute little thing. It's not very big but it's very excited, isn't it?" He flicked my dick with his finger making it flop back and forth like a metronome, showing how rigid it was.

"Now we can compare our cocks, Justin. Now it's a fair comparison." He moved so that his enormous cock jutted out above mine, dwarfing it by comparison. "Well," he continued, "it's not fair like you have some chance of winning, is it? It's fair like it gives an accurate reading of who's the dominant male here and who's the little beta wimp."

I looked away from the focus of his attention. Unfortunately, I turned my head toward the camera and saw the little red light still blinking, reminding me that this was being "documented".

"Who knew that you'd get so excited just from me putting my cock in your mouth?" he taunted. "Just imagine how excited you would get if I fucked your ass?" he threatened. "Oh, wait ... why just imagine it when you can experience it!"

I shook my head violently and tried as well as I could with that damn gag still in my mouth to say, "No!"

"Oh, I can see you're already getting excited. Well, I won't make you wait much longer."

With that Lucas loosened but didn't remove the ropes binding my feet and shoved a pillow under my ass. With my hips thrust up like this, my cock was even more exposed. And, to my shame, it was still rigidly erect.

Lucas positioned himself between my thighs and I watched him slather lubricant over his engorged cock. He raised himself up on his knees, stroking his slick shaft slowly and said, "See this, Justin. This is what you want, isn't it? You want a big alpha cock to take your virgin ass, don't you?"

I shook my head again.

"Oh, I know ... you're scared. You're worried that it will hurt. And, of course, it will ... at first. But that's what makes it so exciting for you. You know that, after the pain, comes the pleasure of having your boipussy stuffed with a huge alpha cock. You know that you'll love the feeling of milking that cock with your ass to drain it of all its sweet cream."

I felt the tip of Lucas's cock touch my asshole. He flicked it gently across my tight sphincter, spreading the lubricant. Unfortunately, this also had the effect of making my own cock twitch uncontrollably.