Chapter 4: Forbidden Submission
Later, driving home with Joni, Michael was silent. They cooked pasta, the domestic normality a hollow shell. In bed, Joni reached for him, her mouth working him to hardness before he rolled her over into a sixty-nine position. Staring at her wide open cunt, he imagined her boss fucking it, and then he turned her over so he could. He entered her with a single, deliberate thrust, her legs wrapping high around his back.
He stared down into her eyes thinking of just one thing, her infideltiy, and he saw her realising just why his attitude was so hard - he knew. Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes, guilt, shame - but he carried on fucking her with the same steady determination until it started affecting, started driving out her guilt and shame, started making her feel like a whore or a slut, started loving the fact that two men were now fucking her on a daily basis. Soon she was convulsing and descending into a desperate, wailing climax. They fucked again near dawn, a quieter, emptier transaction.
The next morning, as she gathered her bag, he pushed her down onto the kitchen worktop, hiking her dress up onto the small of her back. He eased her panties down over her stockong-clad legs and then drove into her, one hand pinning her neck. She came with a sharp cry against the cold granite. He tucked the torn lace into his pocket. “Go,” he said, not gently. She left without them, the ghost of his possession a secret between her thighs.