Love and Betrayal Ch. 04

Despite a turbulent and difficult start to their honeymoon, things between Becci and Paul improved after Prague. The night train to Kraków was a notable highlight, and Becci continued to be exceptionally loving and attentive towards him following their return home. Yet barely a day went by when she was not tortured by self-recrimination and regret.

She had found the photos of Paul with another woman while flicking through his phone as he slept peacefully beside her. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. She would always remember the visceral pain and betrayal she felt on opening the hidden album folder.

The photos were evidently from his stag weekend and although she assumed he had cheated on her, they didn't show any real sex. She had vividly filled in those gaps in her imagination, wounded and in anger. The girl was similar to her in many ways, but at least in Becci's eyes a better version of herself. She was probably a couple of inches taller, with fuller breasts. Insecurities that plagued Becci throughout high school had risen painfully to the surface, further clouding her judgement.

She now recognised that it may all have been more innocent than she first imagined. Even if he had cheated, he was undoubtedly drunk and perhaps manipulated. Nothing could excuse what she had done.

Becci had spent the rest of that sleepless night ruminating on what she imagined had happened, and trying to decide what she should do. She figured that if she confronted him she would either have to just accept a tearful apology, or call the wedding off. Neither were acceptable to her. She still wanted him, but she also wanted to punish him, and yes, to get even.

She had planned her revenge that night; it was extreme and now complete. She picked John and Nick in part because they were both more rugged and powerfully built than Paul. Perhaps subconsciously she recognised that this would further humiliate him. She planed how the poker game would be rigged, leaving the choice between throwing her body into the pot in the last hand or folding and losing their hard-earned cash. Of course winning seemed almost certain.

Paul had to watch these men do to her everything that she imagined that he had done with that bitch, and much more besides. She appeared to be the innocent victim of his greed and foolishness, and he responsible for her violation.

This was compounded by her infidelity in Prague. She was heavily under the influence and Paul had treated her like a china doll rather than a woman, leaving her so desperately frustrated. But he was simply consumed by misplaced guilt, while she had unleashed demons born from years of suppressed erotic thoughts and dreams, and had not yet come to terms with his presumed infidelity.

Now, after everything had played out, she would give anything to turn back time and simply and honestly admit she had looked at his phone as he slept, and given him a chance to tell her what really happened. The price of not doing so was much higher than she ever imagined. The only thing that could save her now was that he was oblivious to her scheming and her infidelity.

Her stellar performance for Paul on the night train to Kraków was born of guilt and desperation. This was followed by many others in varied locations as they traveled Europe. She threw herself into being his eager little fuckbunny, his slut and only his, and their relationship flourished. Erotic daydreams and thoughts still filled her mind, but they were focused on them as a couple. It was how things always should have been. She wished she could live each day as if she had no past; things could have been so perfect between them. She was now the one living an apology.

While on honeymoon Becci became increasingly disgusted by the crude stream of messages from John, and by herself for encouraging him. She simply blocked his number and felt an instant release. Just over one month after she returned home her world was torn apart; John confronted her as she walked through her front gate. She stood shocked for a moment, then trembling turned on John in a hushed and angry tone; "What? H... how did you find me? Get the fuck away from me! I never want to see you again!"

John blocked her path and clicked play on a video on his phone. Becci hesitated, watching and listening in stunned silence. The light was low and the image was grainy, but it was clearly her. He had recorded the deal she had made with Nick and him. John called after her as she turned and rushed inside, "Unblock my number or I'll post this everywhere... And send it to Paul."

Becci was terrified; she immediately complied and sent him a text. John grinned as he walked away. The memories of their previous brutal coupling flooded back to Becci. The shock when he ripped her nylons open, the weight of his body crushing her, the moment he thrust into her. It was brutal, but also one of the most intense experiences of her life. A message arrived from John with a photo of his erect penis, "I'm gonna fuck you raw!"

Becci was suddenly negotiating terms with her would be rapist, and justifying complying with his demands to herself; "Please... I... I mean I guess you... You've already had me... Been inside me... And you haven't left me another choice... Not really... But Paul must never know... Promise me that?"

She managed to secure two crucial concessions; John agreed to settle for only one day with her while Paul was at work, and he would leave no incriminating marks on her body or lasting injury. There would be no physical evidence that anything had happened after he was finished with her. He even agreed to throw in his share of the winnings. Becci agreed; the alternative was too horrific. Her hands were trembling as she typed, "You must, must promise me that this will be the end of it."

John had lost count of how many times he had jerked off to the photo she had sent him on her wedding morning. The raised red scratches he had left on her pale inner thighs while tearing her nylons apart were still clearly visible and intensely arousing. Soon he would have her again.

Becci did not recognise the girl who could have sent that image to him on the morning of her wedding; enticing this brute and considering giving herself to him again just to get the cash she had surrendered back. Even her current predicament was of her own making. For John, weeks of pent-up frustration had sent his fantasies into uncharted territory. He finally sent his 'non-negotiable' instructions to Becci, giving her just 12 hours notice to comply.



Becci kissed Paul goodbye as he left for work, then called John on FaceTime and rushed upstairs. She carefully placed her phone in the bathroom, ensuring that he had a clear and full view of her. She used Paul's razor to shave her pussy in the shower, then washed, dried and moisturised her skin. She repositioned her phone in her bedroom to continue the show. John nearly came just watching her kneel naked before a mirror as she dried and brushed her hair, then stood and posed to spray a little Coco Mademoiselle on her naked body.

Becci obeyed each command John barked at her, while he intermittently stroked his cock, trying to edge. He watched her point her toes and ease her stockings over each foot in turn, running her hands along her shapely calves and thighs, stretching and smoothing the fine material up her legs. Her hands were trembling as she fixed the lace stocking tops to her suspender belt. Her evident fear and apprehension left him painfully rigid.

Becci suddenly felt afraid to the point of nausea. No one else knew what she was doing or where she was going. She was so slight and petite. He could do anything he wanted to her. Her complete submission, possibly placing her life in his hands, engulfed her.

John's voice sent chills down her spine, "Becci... B... B... Becciii! Good girl. Now let me see your most slutty dresses... Fuck yes! That little red one! That and your highest heels!"

Becci tearfully pleaded, "I... I can't wear that!" She remembered how she had blushed when she bought the dress, and again when she modelled it for Paul in their lounge. She told him she would never wear it out, "It's just for fucking!" It was ridiculously short and backless, with a plunging neckline. Broken, she again complied. Becci looked at herself in her bedroom mirror and saw a common whore.

She scurried out to her car and jumped in, hoping that her neighbours hadn't noticed her. Still on FaceTime, she mounted her phone on the dash and left. John issued further commands as she drove; "Pull your tits out!... Pinch your nipples... Show me your tight, pink cunt... Imagine my cum leaking out of you! It soon will be, little whore!"



Oh God, what was she doing! Panic gripped her again as she imagined what was to come. She found the address John had sent quite easily, and pulled up outside, still on FaceTime. "That's too easy Becci! Park at the bottom of the street and walk up." It was perhaps just over 150 meters, but she could only take short steps in her heels, slowing her down terribly. Becci could sense people staring at her; what if someone knew her? She felt so ashamed.

John was waiting for her as she approached, but he made her linger at the door in full view of any curious eyes for several minutes. Finally he opened the door and stood back to let her walk in. As the door closed he pushed her against the wall. His hand was suddenly pressing on her neck and his eyes burning into her with pent-up lust. His cock was already seeping, leaving a damp patch in his strained jeans. He snarled, "Strip bitch!" Becci took a slow deep breath, then hesitantly unzipped her dress and let the silk fall from her shoulders.

Her body was just as perfect as John remembered. Petite, pale delicate skin, supple young breasts and prominent pink nipples. He stared at her for a moment then pulled her to him, crudely and savagely kissing her, his tongue probing inside her mouth. Becci could feel his tense muscles. His powerful hands groped her breasts and pussy before his mouth broke off from hers, "You're gonna have to do so much better than that, Becci."

Suddenly his fist struck her stomach. It was a controlled and relatively restrained blow, but she was unprepared and crumpled in agony, barely able to breathe or speak. He pulled her to his groin on her knees; "Suck it!" Her hands were shaking so wildly she could barely unbuckle his belt. Eventually she freed his cock.

Becci screamed and cried as John viciously twisted her hair in his fist, but she knew she had to please him and fought to regain her composure. She inhaled the musky smell of his precum, milking it from his cock with her hand and licking the little beads of fluid with her tongue.

His cock pressed through her fingers and into her mouth as a few tears followed down her cheeks. After a few deep thrusts to the back of her mouth, John paused and yanked her back by her hair, "Imagine if you're husband was watching like last time! You dirty, fucking, filthy, little whore! Upstairs!"

Becci was visibly unsteady as she stood. John dragged her tripping behind him in her fuck-me heels to the master bedroom and flung her on the bed. "On your back... Your head just over the edge... You are so fucked, little slut!" He was now so hard his cock head was purple. More crystal clear pre-cum oozed from the tip as he mauled her soft breasts. Becci accepted him into her mouth, trying her very best to please, flicking her tongue over his glans. Maybe if she made him cum quickly he wouldn't go too far?



In truth deep down some part of her wanted this. She had often fantasised about being so desired by a man there was nothing he wouldn't do to have her. She imagined being taken, claimed, fucked, and yes, forced by him. Raped by him. In turn John obsessed about what Nick had done to her. Above all else he wanted to choke her with his cock, but he intended to take her much closer to the edge than Nick ever did.

John held Becci's jaw and neck firmly, pressing her head back as it hung over the mattress. He smiled as he looked down at her mouth and throat, perfectly in line. "No hands little whore, or you leave here without a penny." Becci steadied herself and nodded as best she could. She fought her gag reflex as his fat cock forcibly advanced into her throat in a single thrust, popping over the back of her tongue. It was impossible for her to breathe as he rocked back and forth, "Fuck! If you could see the bulge in your neck!" Becci clenched her fists gripping the sheet, but she couldn't stop squirming as her body fought for air.

After perhaps thirty seconds John withdrew briefly to allow her to gasp a few breaths, then forced his way back into her throat. Each time he stayed longer, watching her intently. She became lightheaded and disoriented. Her legs were writhing but her muscles felt so weak. Each time he pulled his cock out of her throat air rushed into her lungs in a sharp inhalation, and her body surged back from the edge, her head-spinning. Each time she gasped and spluttered obscenely.

John tightened his grip on her head and cut off her air once again. Ninety seconds this time. The veins in her neck and face were so distended they looked like they might pop. She flushed, at first crimson, but as her oxygen slowly depleted her face took on a dusky hue.

When John finally pulled his cock out of her throat pre-ejaculate fell on her vocal cords, sending her voice box into spasm. Becci made the most disturbing high-pitched, sharp, rasping squeaks as she desperately fought to draw air into her lungs. Gradually the painful sound softened and eased. John stroked his cock inches from her face as she recovered. Watching her struggle to breathe brought him so close to the edge. He gave her less than a minute reprieve before thrusting back into her mouth for a final vigorous throat fuck.

The wet slapping sound built then suddenly stopped; "Aargh... ff-fuu..ck..." Streams of cum pumped into her. Becci coughed and spluttered as he withdrew. Her head was still tipped over the edge of the bed and his cum dripped from her mouth and ran down into her eyes, stinging painfully. Drips of semen, drool and tears coated her hair and fell on the polished floor.

John straddled and mounted her petite body. She squealed and sobbed as he pinched and twisted her nipples and tits. Becci thought for a moment that his mood had softened when he stopped to gently caress her slender legs. Any Hope of that was quickly dispelled as he painfully stretched her wide open and secured her ankles to the bed posts. A slap stung her face to refocus her attention on him.

As John cuffed and restrained her wrists his lecherous grin terrified her. He snapped bulldog clips on her nipples and began to flick them; the pain was searing! It shot deep inside her. Another firm slap sent both flying. He smiled as she winced, enjoying her pain; "Teasing little whore!" John sucked her bruised and tender nipples, then bit down on each in turn.

Becci tearfully squealed, "Aghh! N... No marks! Ahh... You promised no marks!" Working down to her groin, John licked and sucked her vulva and clitoris for several minutes. She smelt and tasted divine. He was pleasuring her now rather than hurting her. Her clit engorged, swelling to twice it's size; she was ready.

Becci heard the sound of leather sliding through the loops of his jeans. Suddenly he struck her swollen clitoris and pussy five times in quick succession, pausing only to finger her and grinning, "Nice and wet!"

Further welts rained down on her body and tits, as Becci protested, "Ahh! No! No marks! Ah.. Aghh... Please! We agreed! Aghh... No, no marks!" His hands caressed her delicate neck then clamped down on her mouth, muffling her screams and smothering her as she lay spread eagle and powerless before him.

John stared into her eyes and changed his grip to squeeze the sides of her neck. He felt her strong pulse weaken. She could now breathe, albeit with difficulty, but it was of little use. Taking his cock in his free hand he lined it up at her entrance and slid it back and forth along her slit to cover the head in her juices. He loosened his grip on her neck, feeling her pulse return, bounding more vigorously than before. He paused smiling at her, "Look at me, Becci, look at me!" He wanted to ensure that she would never forget the moment he violated her newly wed pussy. Becci winced as he violently claimed her, but she obediently did not break his gaze.

John pounded her petite body as if it existed only to satisfy his cruel desire. A little fuck-toy, his cock-sheath, his whore. Broken and in shame, Becci tried to clench her vagina to resist him, only adding to his pleasure. Her hair was twisted in his fist. She was crushed under the weight of his body and the power behind each lunge into her. John continued to slam into her. His other hand first squeezed her tit, then moved down and held her pelvis firmly to receive his thrusting cock to the hilt.

Becci felt as if every sensation was heightened. She was acutely aware of her body, but particularly her vagina being stretched and her heart pounding in her chest. She felt his rhythm change as his cum spurted into her pussy. He lingered on top of her, adding to her sense of shame and violation. When he finally rolled off her, John scooped up his cum as it oozed from her and crudely smeared it over her face.



Becci lay captive in stunned silence while John told her how intense he felt when the strong pulse of blood in her neck weakened and briefly stopped as he gripped her throat. Her breathing was still erratic as he released her wrist and ankle cuffs. He kept kissing her as he set her free, then sat back against the headboard and ordered her to clean him. She lapped and sucked his cock and balls, certain that she could smell and taste both him and herself.

Strangely, Becci found complying with John's instructions unexpectedly easy. She just had to empty her mind and obey him. John held her head firmly and lifted her off his cock whilst she tried to keep sucking it. He pushed her back to his scrotum; her lips and tongue went to work on his balls, but that wasn't enough. John opened his legs and pushed her further back. He gasped, "That's it, good girl!" as Becci's flicking tongue teased his perineum, then moved further back to his anal ring and slid into the centre.

Becci had never rimmed anyone before, but she didn't dare object or break contact for a second. As long as he didn't hit her again she could probably conceal the marks that were there. She traced a circle around the outer ring of his anus with her tongue, then working in smaller circles until the tip pressed through his channel. John barked, "Roll your tongue and keep it out!" He grabbed her head, pressing her tongue in and out of his ass, buggering himself with her. She could only hold her tongue rigid for so long; the muscle cramped painfully and felt like it was on fire.

John finally pulled her off him and threw her on her back. He spread her legs and slipped his cock inside her cum-coated pussy, lubricating himself with their secretions. After a few strokes he pulled out, hooked her ankles in the crook of his arms and pressed his bulbous cock into her ass. She bit her lip as his flesh invaded her. He began to pick up the pace until he was nearly there, finally pulling out to cum on her tits and face. When he cleaned his cock in her hair and walked towards the shower she sensed that he was finally done with her.

John placed £800 in her bag and told her to dress as she was. She was not allowed to clean herself. She looked like she'd been gangbanged as she hurried down the street in broad daylight, her face burning and heart pounding. She was disgusted with herself. Thoughts of Paul crept in followed by waves of guilt. Her hands were shaking as she reached her car.