tagLoving WivesA New and Delicate Balance Ch. 09

A New and Delicate Balance Ch. 09


I think I went crazy the night Phil said he wanted to divorce me. Maybe it wasn't so much because he actually said it but because I expected him to say it. I had expected it for weeks. It was exactly what I knew he would do.

Then he did it.

I am Mary, remember? Phil's cute sub wife?

When he told me about the divorce, I was hanging from a hook in our attic, arms numb from the stretching. A spreader separated my feet, my mouth was closed with a gag and a blindfold covered my eyes. There was a vibrator in both my cunt and my ass. Little weights hung from my tits, stretching my nipples.

There was a clamp on my clitoris.

After all these years he had at last fucked his tall, redhead dream, my very best friend Irene (although I suspect they've been screwing ever since the day I introduced them to each other, years ago). And she fucked him back with all the treachery she could muster.

More over, he had forced me to watch them. From a secluded place I saw his ass spasm as he shot his seed up her adulterous cunt. I watched him getting her pregnant.

And that's when I started hating Phil. When I later heard she was pregnant for sure, the hate entered my heart. Because you know that I can't have a child, ever. You must know that.

The problem was I still loved him. I guess the only way to kill that love would be to kill him.

Dangling in front of him that night I remember thinking: "Maybe I'll kill him soon. But not now."

I wasn't really thinking, though. Sluts have a hard time thinking at all, you know. There were just too many moments that I — well — suspended my thinking around Phil.

I usually hated myself for that. Usually later

At that moment I was very close to a second orgasm. The gag muffled my begging. But right then he suddenly pulled out the dildos. He also took away the clamps, the weights and the blindfold. He left the ball gag in place.

I moaned in frustration. His eyes were level with mine. His icy blue gaze made me shiver. He grabbed my head and pulled my face into his.

"So now that I've fucked her with child, you worthless barren bitch," he hissed, "what do I need you for any longer? Go slut around in your precious ghettos, whore. Go sell yourself. Show them what you are prepared to do for a fuck."

He grabbed my cunt hard, making me wince. His fingers entered, pushing all the way up into my deepest niche. It hurt. But I was past hurt. He had trained me well. Pain aroused me. I had allowed him to turn me into a pain freak.

I screamed around the gag and came from his cruel probing.

He chuckled. He felt me spasm around his hand. He slid his fingers out and smelled them. Then he smeared the juices over my face and tits.

He once more grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him.

"I am going to divorce you, Mary," he said. "I have no need of you anymore."

That was when I started killing him.

I am not a strong woman. Physically Phil could break me with his pinkie. And as far as mental strength goes... I was his slave, remember?

But I have what he lacks - patience.

I had been brooding on a way to kill him ever since I knew about the pregnancy. By now I knew what to do and when. To hell with consequences. I was crazy, wasn't I? Deranged, loco?

Who needs a life after one's love has been killed?

I left Phil the day after he told me about his divorce plans. I booked a suite at the Plaza with one of his cards. I doubted that he'd block it any time soon. He may be a lot of awful things, but stingy is not one of them.

I went to a special parlor and changed my looks to match my insides. I also bought a new wardrobe. I went gothic nightmare all the way. It made me feel good. I needed to show my true self to the fucking bitch, so I went to see her. Of course I ended up crying like a baby. I am weak, and when she lied to me, I fled.

The next day I phoned Phil. I told him I needed to talk about the divorce. He said there wasn't much to talk about. I insisted. We had dinner at Sardi's, close to Broadway. It had a special meaning for us. Ah well, just for me by then, I gather.

He was good, Phil. Slicker and sweeter than ever. He complimented me on my new look. I had gone all the way. Low cut black silk top, studded nipples thrusting against it. I wore a tight leather skirt. Sheer black stockings, crazy heels. Abundant make up on a chalk white face. Never-ending dark red nails.

"At last you look like the whore you are," he said with the sweetest of smiles.

"Merci," I answered, dripping honey. "Isn't that just the company you prefer, lately?"

Damn, we were good at this. We should have started much earlier. Such a pity it would end so soon.

"I saw her, you know," he went on. "Irene, I mean. She is all excited about us, our child and all."

I watched his eyes. Maybe by now I was the only one able to see if he lied. It is hard. Especially when he believes what he is saying. I guess he believed that Irene was his. Well, he might be right.

Did I care?

"Phil," I said and laid my blood-tipped claw on his hand. "I want you to fuck me tonight. Just this one last time. Don't say no."

My heart throbbed. I knew his egotistical inclinations. His easy to tickle self-confidence. I ran a stockinged foot up his leg. My begging eyes were wide open. My nipples were like fingertips.

There was nothing fake about my eagerness. And there was nothing fake about his, either. I saw it in his eyes. The triumph. The anticipation. And I felt it confirmed by the hard bulge my toes found between his thighs.

He grinned.

"You are such a slut, Mary."

We rose to leave.

"I was taught by the best," I whispered.

The suite looked as instructed; the hotel staff had done a good job setting up.

The lights were low. A small meadow of candles spread a yellowish, living light, leaving a wide path straight to the huge bed. Long stemmed roses lay strewn all over the silk cover. They were dark red and had mean thorns.

"You are such a romantic," Phil mumbled, leaving my extended nipples just long enough to say it. "I'll miss that."

He had attacked me in the cab already, pushing my silk top up above my tits and running a greedy hand up my stockings. I must have looked a mess when we stumbled through the lobby and took the elevator up to my suite.

"You live expensively, honey," he grinned when we rode up. His fingers were inside me before we reached my floor. His teeth pulled on the studs through my nipples.

It felt all very good.

He tore my top off. Then he zipped down my skirt, making it fall around my crazy heels. His eyes went up and down my pale, naked body. Then he took me up and carried me to the bed. He dumped me on the cruel flowers. I felt them attack my skin. It just added to my arousal.

I lay gasping. I looked at him past my panting tits. He kicked off his shoes, then took off his shirt and pants. His lean, muscled body seemed to dance in the living candlelight.

His cock was up and hard. I always loved its elegance. Most cocks are ugly. His is tall and slender. And always ready. I love his cock. I love its shape, its force.

I love my Master.

Phil never hesitated. He climbed between my legs, brushing the roses aside. Then he pulled my stockinged legs on his shoulders, making the heels stick out. Their shadows touched the ceiling.

He plunged his cock into my cunt in one hard thrust. I felt the air being torn from my lungs.

The fuck was short and extremely rough. I came about the fifth time he hit bottom. My orgasm still echoed when he drowned it with his flood. But he kept on pumping. It seemed he'd never lose his hardness.

Then he rolled off me, forgetting the roses. He cursed. I laughed. He grabbed me, rolled me over and started spanking my thorn-pricked ass with his huge, open hand.

"You whore! You spineless slut! You - goddamn - bitch - in - goddamn - heat!"

He almost chanted the words while painting my skin with pink blooming handprints. I squealed and sobbed and felt the glow spread into me.

His copious sperm gushed out of me with every blow.

"Oh God, Phil!" I stammered. "Oh God, don't leave me. I love you! I love you so!"

I turned around and wrapped my body around him. I held on to him with all my might, kissing dark lipstick smudges all over his face.

He got hold of my head and pushed it away from his. Then he spoke and signed his death sentence.

"Crawl into your slimy hole, you cheap, barren whore," he growled, each word was clipped and neatly separated. "But first suck my cock."

His hands grabbed my new black hair and pulled me down on his drooping flesh. It shone with our juices. I smelled the raw sex. Then I tasted his sperm and my cum as my mouth sank down over his cock.

I worked on him like mad. My heart raced. My mind still could not accept the consequences of his verdict. The slave in me just needed to please him. Please him hard. Please him well.

But he did not rise.

I felt his flesh swell inside my mouth, but he never reached another erection. I sucked and licked, took him deep and squeezed his balls, but nothing happened.

A sudden blow to my head made me reel. He pulled me up to his face and bellowed:

"You lost it, you worthless slut! See? You can't even get me hard again. Didn't Irene teach you anything?"

He threw me away, making me fall off the bed.

"Get me a goddamn drink, you failure of a woman. Now!"

I scurried away. The fridge held all I needed.

I stirred the glass. Then I crouched at the foot of the bed, holding the glass over my head, like an offering. I felt his fingers when he took it.

I heard his throat swallow.

Knowing some of the darker minds on the seedier side of town has its advantages. Especially when some of them agree that they owe you. Nothing big, just enough to help you in a bind.

Poison is a creative means to reach the goals of a weak woman. It has never been praised enough for its possibilities to design the right kind of death for the right kind of person. I'd almost say poison can be a way to express the love of a woman.

The huge, fat old matron in a Harlem backstreet had smiled when she listened to my story. She had even chuckled when I told her about my desires.

"Ah, men," she had rumbled with her deep voice. "Mighty little men."

She gave me a tiny bottle. And some twice repeated instructions. She also gave me a little envelope with three diamond shaped blue pills.

Then she accompanied me down the stairs and to the street. She took my tiny frame into her imposing embrace.

"I feel sorry for you, lil Missy," she said. "Please don't lose your precious life over a worthless man. We need you."

She kissed me and we parted.

Now I looked up. My face was splotched with tears and mascara, my mouth must be a dark red smear. Spittle drooled down my chin.

Once more Phil yanked at my hair. He dragged me up across the slick silk until I was over his weak cock again. I took it in my mouth, suckling the head like a baby would suckle a teat. My red-nailed little claws rolled his balls in their sack.

I heard him swallow again. The ice cubes tinkled. Then he groaned and sank on his back. His swollen flesh filled my mouth, but the cock stayed soft.

After a few minutes I stopped sucking. I let the penis flop out of my mouth and looked up. He seemed to have fallen asleep. I crawled to his face and carefully brushed the blonde hair from his brow.

How lovely he looked. So sweet. And all mine.

I snuggled next to him, pushing my body into his. I listened to his slow heart and the soft snore of his breath. My hand rested on his dormant cock.

I closed my eyes.

I don't know what woke me up. I had not really slept, but had wandered around the rolling landscape of hazy half-sleep.

I looked up to see his still-closed eyes. His mouth had opened. His breathing seemed quicker, as was the beating of his heart.

My hand lay wrapped around his wide awake erection. I watched it with amazement. Never had I seen it this tall and fat. And I had certainly never felt it this hard. It throbbed against my palm. The blue pills had done their job well. A steady glow entered the soft flesh of my hand. The mushroom head shone with its inner tension.

It was a dark purple.

I slowly started pumping the rod. I watched a drop of clear moisture well up from the angry slit at the top, each time I pumped. I brought my tongue carefully to the cock and licked up the drops that ran down along the stem.

He groaned. His hips rose from the bed. More pre-cum gushed from the head. It tasted saltier than usual. And there was a lot more of it.

I knelt between his spread thighs. His cock now rested between both of my hands. I licked its crown, then looked up at his face. It was pale. Most of his blood must have gathered into his erection.

"Master," I whispered. "Sweet Master."

His lashes fluttered. He groaned.

"You are dying, sweet Master. But that is all right."

He struggled to open his eyes, it seemed. He also humped his hips against my slowly pumping hands.

"It is all right. I shall always be with you, Master. Your little whore will pleasure you forever, sweet lover."

I sank down and took his shivering crown between my lips. It was so hot that it almost burnt me.

I again looked up. My hands slid down to his swollen balls, kneading them.

"Do I please you, Master?" I murmured. "You are so hot to my touch. You throb inside my mouth, sweet Master."

I rose. I straddled him. And then I sank my wet cunt on the purple head.

"Please, Master. Enter your worthless slut. Fill her with your glorious cock. Stretch her. Use and abuse her. Please, Master."

He was so thick. I was wet and slick, but his new girth pushed against my cuntlips, stretching them further than ever before. I moaned tiny squeals. My little heart raced with delight.

At last I took his head in.


His eyes were open. He tried to talk, but it seemed his tongue had swollen.

"Shhhh, Master. No need to talk anymore. Nevermore. I know your every thought, lover."

He started to scream. It came out like demented, guttural nonsense. I smiled. Then my face contorted. He pushed up and made his cock enter me deeper. God, was he big.

I was so proud of him.

"I am so proud of you, Master. And I thank you humbly for rewarding me with your cock. Never before has stupid little Mary had such a grand cock as this. Ooooooooh..."

By now I felt my inner thighs reach his. He felt hot, consumed by a terrible fever. There was maybe one other inch to go. I felt so gloriously full already.

His screams died down. There was just a gargling rattle now. I was glad he saw the inevitability of my gift to him. No need to torture him, was there?

I sank fully on him, taking in deep gushes of air.

"Yesssss!" I screamed victoriously. I rested my buttock on his thighs. Then I leant forward, cupping his face in my hands.

"Dear, dear Master. I am so thankful. Thankful for your wanting to spend this last time with me. Thankful for making it so special, too."

I reached deeper and kissed his pale lips. I felt his swollen, frenzied tongue plunge into my mouth.

Then I started to fuck him slowly. God, it was so very good. The friction, the stretching. I went faster, leaving his mouth and arching my back. I took his hands and clutched them to my tits.

Then I started to ride him hard.

A soft buzzing entered my head. Hot glowing waves spread from my cunt into every niche of my sweating body. I sobbed by now. I gasped and babbled.

I felt myself float away.

I lost sight of his face. It drowned in the haze that sank over me. I was alone with my Master's cock. It was everywhere. It made me shudder and arch. It made me scream and cry.

The first of several giant orgasms crashed into me. It ran in circles down my spine and up my chest. It came in boiling waves drowning me forever. Waves followed by waves. They expanded my being. I had no borders. I spread into the cosmos. I was All. And I came... came... came.

When I returned from my incredible journey I felt an icy cold invade me. I dreamt I lay stretched on a marble slab of polished stone.

My fingers started exploring.

The coldness was everywhere. I felt shapes and curves. A mouth? A face? So cold and stiff. I shuddered. Then shot upright. I looked down and a new terror washed over me.

"Phil? What happened? Phil?"

He was ice cold between my legs. And inside me. He was still inside me. Hard and cold. I screamed and tried to jump off him. His rigid pole plopped out of me.

I ran to the farthest corner of the room, stumbling in a forest of burnt out candles. I crouched into a fetal ball and sat panting, moaning, my eyes wide open.

Consciousness streamed back in. I remembered why I was here. I had saved Phil. I had saved our love from the claws of the adulterous bitch.

My love would be forever mine.

A cool, new peace invaded me. I rose to my feet and went to the bathroom to take an endless shower and rinse out a glass. Then I wrapped myself in a fluffy robe. I took a bottle of water from the fridge and stabbed the numbers on the lovely designer phone.

There was an admirable sob in my voice when I told the police dispatcher what had happened.

Heart failure is such a treacherous disease, isn't it? And so young, too. Yes, Inspector. Uhm... this is so embarrassing. My husband and I, we were indeed...

Sorry, no, I'll be all right, Inspector...

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byangiquesophie© 35 comments/ 75365 views/ 16 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by angiquesophie05/22/18

thanks, brian

you are very welcome.

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by BrianBenson05/22/18

Fabulous story!

Thank you so much for sharing this story. You are a truly talented writer.

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by Anonymous09/26/17

Gone Gothic,Look at Them Boots!

Man,has mousy Mary changed from when she was 1st introduced! From a do-gooder, inner city,savior,to a pain-loving slave,and finally a kinky Goth murderer!
(Rumor has it that after this story,Mary wasmore...

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by Anonymous08/03/17

One down...

... three to go. Or three and a half?

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by Anonymous06/21/17


You are one sick bitch, aren't you???!!!

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