Chapter 4: The Wall of Submission
The stale perfume and sex smell hung heavy in the bedroom, trapped by the dawn light filtering weakly through heavy drapes. Three bodies lay tangled on the ruined silk sheets, a tableau of spent exhaustion. Rhonda occupied the center, her fiery hair a dark spill across the pillows, one arm flung possessively over Marcus’s bare, sweat-damp chest. His powerful frame lay on his back beside her, breathing deep and slow in sleep. Jeff was curled on her other side, turned away, a tense comma of humiliation even in unconsciousness, his back radiating a silent, cold shame.
Rhonda stirred. Not from the light. A deep, familiar throb pulsed low in her belly, insistent. Marcus. The memory of him driving into her against the wall, her legs locked around him, Jeff’s open, waiting mouth beneath her dripping cunt… it surged through her, hot and liquid. She wanted that heat again. That brutal possession. Now.
Her eyes snapped open, sharp and alert despite the hour. She turned her head slightly, her gaze sliding past Jeff’s hunched shoulder, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. Her whisper was soft, yet it cut through the quiet like a knife.
"Jeff."
He flinched violently, a small gasp escaping him. He didn't turn.
"Wake up."
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, a tremor running through him. Pretending.
Rhonda’s hand snaked out from under the sheet, fingers digging into his shoulder with bruising force. "Now."
He jerked, rolling onto his back, his eyes wide with dread in the dim light. "Rhonda?" His voice was a dry croak.
She shifted closer, her body pressing along his side. The heat radiating from her was intense. Her hand slid downwards, under the sheet, finding his flaccid cock. Her touch wasn't gentle. It was a demand. She squeezed, making him wince. "He's still soft," she breathed, her lips grazing his ear again, her eyes fixed on Marcus’s sleeping form beside her. "I want him hard. I want him inside me. Fucking me. Now." Her grip tightened. "Suck him."
Jeff’s breath hitched. He stared at her, horrified. "S-Suck him? Now? While he’s… asleep?" The memory of Marcus’s revulsion, the brutal grip on his thigh, the look of utter disgust on the powerful man’s face as he’d been forced to service him – it was fresh, raw. The idea of initiating it, crawling over Rhonda to put his mouth on Marcus while the man slept… it was a new circle of hell.
"Did I stutter?" Rhonda’s voice was ice. She released his cock and pushed at his chest. "Move. Get him hard. Use your fucking mouth. Or do you need another lesson in obedience?"
The threat hung between them, colder than the morning air. Jeff remembered the wall, the pounding, the taste of their combined fluids dripping onto his tongue. He remembered the dark space under the bed, the slapping weight of Marcus’s balls on his face. He remembered the utter annihilation of his pride. This was merely… continuation.
Trembling like a leaf in a storm, Jeff pushed himself up. He moved with agonizing slowness, climbing over Rhonda’s legs, his bare skin sliding over the cool silk. Marcus’s broad chest rose and fell steadily. He looked powerful, untouchable, even in sleep. Jeff paused, kneeling awkwardly over Rhonda’s thighs, staring at the thick cock resting against Marcus’s thigh. It was soft, heavy-looking, the head nestled in dark curls. The reality of what he was about to do choked him.
"Stop dawdling," Rhonda hissed from beneath him, her hand giving his ass a sharp, stinging slap. "Put it in your mouth. Get. Him. Hard."
Jeff flinched, the slap a spark igniting his humiliation. He took a shaky breath, the scent of Marcus’s skin and dried sweat filling his nostrils. He leaned down, his heart hammering against his ribs. He hesitated one final second, then opened his mouth, his tongue darting out with instinctive, servile cowardice to touch the flared head.
It was warm. Soft skin. The faint, musky, sleep-heavy scent intensified. He pressed his lips around it, taking the head into his mouth. He began to suck gently, tentatively, his tongue swirling. Nothing. Marcus didn't stir. Jeff increased the pressure, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head slightly. He felt the flesh stir, thickening subtly under his ministrations. A low groan, almost a sigh, rumbled in Marcus’s chest.
Encouraged – or simply desperate to succeed and end this – Jeff took more in, sinking down until the soft shaft pressed against his lips. He worked his tongue along the underside, sucked harder. The cock swelled rapidly now, hardening, filling his mouth with alarming speed. Marcus shifted, his hips pushing upwards slightly into the warm, wet heat.
Jeff gagged as the head nudged the back of his throat. He pulled back, gasping for air, but kept his mouth working the rigid length. Marcus’s eyes fluttered open. Confusion blurred his gaze for a split second, then sharp, dawning horror as he looked down and saw Jeff’s head bobbing in his lap, Rhonda watching with burning intensity from beneath.
"What the FUCK!" Marcus exploded, his voice thick with sleep and fury. He tried to shove Jeff away, but Rhonda’s hand shot out, clamping onto Marcus’s wrist, her nails digging in.
"Leave him," she commanded, her voice low and absolute. "He’s doing his job. You’re hard. That’s what I wanted." Her eyes locked onto Marcus’s, challenging. "Now you’re going to do yours."
Marcus glared at her, then down at Jeff, who flinched but kept sucking, terrified into mechanical obedience. Marcus’s cock jerked in Jeff’s mouth, fully hard now despite the rage in his eyes. "Fucking cunt," he spat at Jeff, then turned his venom back to Rhonda. "This is bullshit. Using him like your fucking alarm clock."
"It’s efficient," Rhonda said coolly, sitting up, the sheet pooling around her waist, revealing her bare breasts. "And I don’t recall asking your opinion on my methods. Get up." She swung her legs off the bed, standing. "Against the wall. Now."
Marcus snarled, but a familiar, dark heat warred with his anger in his eyes. The undeniable demand of his erection, serviced by the man he despised, warred with his fury at being woken this way. The sight of Rhonda, naked and imperious, her gaze daring him to refuse… it was a potent cocktail. With a final, disgusted shove that sent Jeff sprawling backwards off the bed onto the floor, Marcus surged upright. He was a tower of furious muscle, his cock jutting aggressively.
Rhonda walked backwards, never taking her eyes off him, until her shoulder blades touched the cool plaster near the window. "Fuck me, Marcus," she ordered, spreading her legs. "Like you mean it. Like you own it. Because right now, you do."
The taunt, the reminder of his temporary power within her game, ignited him. He crossed the space in two strides, his hands grabbing her hips, fingers biting into her flesh. He lifted her effortlessly, slamming her back against the wall. Her legs locked around his waist before her feet even left the floor. He didn't pause, didn't tease. With a guttural growl that was pure possession, he drove his cock into her with one brutal, shearing thrust.
Rhonda cried out, a sharp sound of shock and intense pleasure as he filled her completely, stretching her, the angle deep and punishing. Her head thumped back against the plaster. "YES! FUCK! Like that!"
Marcus set a devastating rhythm immediately, hammering into her, his hips pistoning with ruthless force. The wet slap of flesh against flesh, the creak of the wall, his harsh grunts, her escalating cries – they filled the room. His hands held her pinned, her back scraping against the wall with each deep drive, her breasts jolting. He fucked with a focused, almost angry intensity, claiming her, proving his dominance within the confines of her control.
"Look at him!" Rhonda gasped, her eyes finding Jeff, who had scrambled to his knees on the floor, watching, his hand unconsciously stroking his own half-hard cock, his face a mask of agonized arousal. "Look at your pathetic cuck! He loves watching his wife get destroyed!"
Marcus didn't look. He buried his face in the curve of Rhonda’s neck, biting down hard enough to make her yelp, driving into her harder, deeper, as if trying to obliterate himself in her heat. "Fucking take it," he snarled against her skin, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. "Take every fucking inch."
Rhonda wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on, meeting his thrusts, pushing back, urging him deeper. The raw power of him, his anger, his strength channeled entirely into fucking her senseless against the wall… it was exquisite. Her climax built fast and fierce, a pressure coiling tighter and tighter. "Harder! Don't stop! Make me feel it tomorrow, you bastard!"
Marcus roared, his thrusts becoming almost feral, savage. The wall shuddered. Rhonda screamed, her body arching, clamping down on him in violent spasms. He drove into her pulsing depths twice more, then froze, burying himself to the hilt with a final, guttural shout as his own release tore through him. He pulsed inside her, hot and deep, his body shuddering against hers.
He held her there, pinned to the wall, both of them gasping, dripping with sweat. Rhonda’s legs trembled. Slowly, carefully, Marcus lowered her until her feet touched the floor, his softening cock slipping out of her with a wet sound. A thick trickle of his seed immediately began to seep down her inner thigh.
Rhonda leaned back against the wall for support, breathing hard, a triumphant, predatory light in her eyes. She looked past Marcus’s heaving shoulder at Jeff, still kneeling, still stroking himself, his gaze fixed on the glistening mess between her legs. A slow, cruel smile touched her lips. "Jeff," she said, her voice hoarse but commanding. "Cleanup time. Come here."
Jeff scrambled forward on his knees, drawn like a moth to a flame he both craved and feared. He stopped between her spread legs, his eyes fixed on the creamy fluid leaking from her swollen cunt. He leaned in, his tongue darting out instinctively.
Marcus straightened up, a look of profound disgust twisting his features as he watched Jeff’s tongue swipe through the glistening mess on Rhonda’s thigh. He turned away, grabbing his discarded pants from the floor. "I need a fucking shower," he muttered, his voice thick with contempt, the echo of his furious climax already hardening into a cold resentment. He stalked towards the en suite without a backward glance, the bathroom door slamming shut behind him.
Rhonda watched him go, then looked down at Jeff’s eager, servile mouth. Marcus’s seed, his anger, his forced submission – it was all hers. She ran her fingers through Jeff’s hair, not gently, guiding his mouth exactly where she wanted it. The power thrummed through her, dark and intoxicating, a storm far from over. Marcus’s exit wasn't retreat; it was the gathering of thunderheads. And she was ready for the lightning.
The shower’s roar cut off abruptly, leaving a thick silence that hummed with the aftermath. Rhonda watched Jeff’s tongue, pink and desperate, chase a stray rivulet of Marcus’s seed down her trembling inner thigh. The scrape of his stubble against her sensitized skin sent a jolt through her spent body, not pleasure, but the electric thrill of absolute control. He lapped diligently, swallowing Marcus’s claim, his humiliation a palpable heat radiating off him onto her legs. She tightened her grip in his hair, forcing his face harder against her sticky flesh, relishing his muffled whimper.
Marcus emerged from the steam, a towel slung low on his hips, water beading on his sculpted torso. He avoided looking at them, radiating a cold fury that tightened the air. His gaze swept over the rumpled bed, the discarded wine glass, the dust still smudged on the rug from under the bed, his jaw clenched. He moved with stiff, deliberate purpose towards his discarded clothes, his silence louder than any shout. The contempt in his posture as he pulled on his boxers, then trousers, was a shield against the violation he’d endured licking his own spend from her.
Rhonda released Jeff’s head with a dismissive shove. “Enough. Go shower. You smell like despair and dust.” Jeff scrambled back, scrambling to his feet, eyes downcast, scurrying towards the en suite Marcus had just vacated. Rhonda watched Marcus button his shirt, the fabric straining over his powerful shoulders. “Leaving so soon, Marcus?” Her voice was smooth, dangerous silk. “The party’s just getting started.”
He finally looked at her as he fastened his cufflinks, his eyes chips of obsidian. “I have a meeting.” The lie was flat, brittle. “Unlike some, I have actual work to do.” He picked up his jacket, his movements sharp, economical. He didn’t glance at Jeff, disappearing into the steam-filled bathroom.
“Try not to drown in self-pity, dear!” Rhonda called after him, her laughter sharp and bright. She stretched languidly on the bed, the cool silk a counterpoint to the fire still simmering low in her belly. She heard the front door close firmly a minute later. The game was far from over. Marcus’s retreat was tactical, not surrender. She knew the look in his eyes; it wasn’t defeat, it was calculation. He’d be back. They always came back for what they couldn’t resist. She drifted, the lingering ache between her legs a pleasant reminder of her dominion.
Cool linen sheets brushed Rhonda’s skin as consciousness seeped back hours later. The room was dark, the city lights painting faint stripes across the ceiling. Jeff lay beside her, asleep on his side, his breathing shallow and uneven even in rest. The space Marcus had occupied earlier was cold and empty. But the familiar throb, the insistent pulse deep in her core, was back. It wasn’t gentle need; it was a raw, demanding hunger for possession, for the brutal force Marcus wielded. She wanted the wall again. The ruthless hammering. The surrender forced upon him even as he dominated her.
She turned her head slowly. Jeff’s profile was tense in the gloom, etched with the residue of the night’s degradations. Her gaze slid past him, landing on Marcus. He lay on his back on the far side of the wide bed, one powerful arm flung above his head on the pillow, the sheet pooled low around his hips. The dim light caught the sculpted planes of his chest, the strong column of his throat. And there, unmistakable even in the shadows, tenting the thin sheet over his groin, was the thick outline of his cock. Hard. Demanding attention even in sleep.
Rhonda’s lips curved. Perfect. Her whisper sliced through the quiet, aimed directly at Jeff’s ear, a viper’s hiss. “Jeff.”
He jolted awake, a choked gasp escaping him. He didn’t move, frozen.
“Wake up,” she breathed, the command laced with dark promise.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a tremor running through his frame. Denial.
Her hand shot out, cold fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulder, nails threatening to break skin. “Now.”
He rolled onto his back with a whimper, eyes wide and white with terror in the darkness. “Rhonda? What…?”
She shifted closer, her heat radiating against his side. Her hand slid down, under the sheet, finding his soft cock. She grasped it roughly, squeezing the flaccid flesh, making him gasp. “Look at him,” she breathed, her lips brushing his ear, her gaze locked on Marcus’s sleeping form, the prominent ridge beneath the sheet. “Hard already. Dreaming of fucking me, no doubt.” Her grip tightened painfully. “I want that cock inside me. Now. Wake it up properly. Suck him hard.”
Jeff’s breath hitched audibly. He stared at her, horror dawning. “S-Suck him?Now? While he’s… asleep?” The memory of Marcus’s fury earlier, the disgusted shove, the look of absolute loathing, flooded back, icy dread washing over him. “He’ll kill me.”
“He’ll do nothing I don’t allow,” Rhonda stated, her voice glacial iron. She released his cock and shoved his chest. “Move. Get your fucking mouth on him. Get him ready for me. Or I’ll remind you what happens when you refuse.” The unspoken threat – Marcus’s hands, Marcus’s strength used against him – hung in the air, colder than the sheets.
Jeff shuddered, the images flashing: pinned against the wall, choking beneath the bed, Marcus’s semen coating his chin. This was merely the next step down. With trembling limbs that felt like lead, he pushed himself up. He moved with agonizing slowness, climbing over Rhonda’s legs, the silk cool beneath his knees. Marcus’s powerful chest rose and fell steadily. The sheet’s outline was obscenely clear. Jeff hovered, kneeling awkwardly over Rhonda’s thighs, staring at the bulge. The scent of Marcus’s skin, sleep-warm and musky, filled his nostrils, triggering a wave of nausea mixed with a sickening, traitorous thrill.
“Stop stalling,” Rhonda hissed, her hand landing a sharp, stinging slap on his bare ass. “Put it in your mouth. Get. Him. Hard.”
The slap jolted him into motion, a spark igniting his shame. He took a ragged breath. Leaning down, his heart hammering like a trapped bird, he hesitated one last second. Then, with a whimper of pure submission, he hooked a trembling finger under the sheet’s edge near Marcus’s hip and lifted. The thick cock sprang free, fully erect, jutting up against Marcus’s stomach, the head dark and swollen in the gloom. Jeff flinched. It looked predatory even in repose.
He opened his mouth, his tongue darting out instinctively, wetting his lips. He leaned closer, the heat radiating from Marcus’s groin intense. He pressed his lips to the flared head. Warm, velvety skin. The musky scent intensified, primal and overwhelming. He closed his lips around it, sucking gently, tentatively, swirling his tongue over the sensitive ridge. Nothing. Marcus didn't stir beyond a soft sigh.
Jeff increased the pressure, hollowing his cheeks, taking more of the thick shaft into his mouth, bobbing his head slowly. He felt the powerful organ pulse, thickening even further, becoming impossibly rigid under his ministrations. A low groan rumbled deep in Marcus’s chest, a sound of unconscious pleasure.
Encouraged by the reaction, desperate to succeed and escape this torment, Jeff sank lower. He took Marcus deep, until the engorged head nudged the back of his throat. He gagged, pulling back slightly, gasping for air, but kept his mouth working the rigid length, sucking hard, his tongue massaging the thick vein underneath. Marcus shifted. His hips lifted slightly off the mattress, pushing his cock deeper into Jeff’s throat.
Jeff choked, tears springing to his eyes. He fought the reflex, forcing himself to relax his throat, taking the brutal intrusion. Marcus’s eyes flew open. Confusion clouded his gaze for an instant, then sharpened into dawning recognition, morphing rapidly into utter, livid horror as he looked down and saw Jeff’s head in his lap, Rhonda watching with fierce intensity from the shadows beneath.
"Jesus FUCKING Christ!" Marcus roared, the sound raw with sleep and explosive rage. He surged upwards, hands flying to shove Jeff violently away. "Get the FUCK off me, you disgusting piece of–!"
But Rhonda’s hand shot out like a striking snake, clamping onto Marcus’s bicep with surprising strength, her nails biting deep. "Leave him," she commanded, her voice low, absolute, cutting through his fury. "He’s doing precisely what I told him to do." Her eyes, gleaming in the darkness, locked onto Marcus’s, a challenge burning in their depths. "You’re hard. Mission accomplished. Now," her lips curved into a predatory smile, "you’re going to do what I want."
Marcus froze, glaring down at Jeff, who scrambled back onto his knees, gasping, saliva slick on his chin, terror etched on his face. Marcus’s cock stood rigid and angry, untouched now, pulsing with the adrenaline of shock and fury. He turned his venom back to Rhonda. "You fucking psychotic bitch," he spat, the words thick with disgust. "Using that pathetic worm like your goddamn alarm clock? Waking me up with his fucking mouth?"
"It gets the job done," Rhonda said coolly, sitting up, letting the sheet fall to her waist, her bare breasts pale in the dim light. "And I don’t recall requiring your approval for my methods." She swung her legs decisively off the bed, standing fully naked, powerful. "Up. Against the wall. Now."
Marcus snarled, a feral sound, but a dark, undeniable heat warred with the fury in his eyes. The insistent demand of his erection, serviced by the man he despised, clashed violently with his outrage. The sight of Rhonda, utterly exposed, utterly commanding, her gaze daring him to refuse… it was an intoxicating, infuriating lure. With a final, contemptuous glare at the cowering Jeff, Marcus surged upright. He was a monument of barely leashed rage, his cock jutting aggressively from his body like a weapon.
Rhonda walked backwards, never breaking eye contact, her hips swaying faintly, until her shoulder blades met the cool plaster beside the window. She spread her legs deliberately, planting her feet apart. "Fuck me, Marcus," she ordered, her voice dropping to a husky growl. "Like you fucking mean it. Like you own me." A slow, cruel smile touched her lips. "Because right fucking now, you do."
The taunt, the reminder of his sanctioned dominance within her game, detonated something primal. He crossed the space between them in two swift, predatory strides. His hands seized her hips, fingers digging in brutally, lifting her off her feet and slamming her back against the wall before she could fully register the movement. Her legs instinctively locked around his waist. He didn't hesitate, didn't seek entry. With a guttural roar that vibrated through her bones, he drove his full, rigid length into her with one savage, shearing thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Rhonda cried out, a sharp, guttural sound torn from her throat – shock, intense pleasure, the brutal stretch stealing her breath. Her head snapped back against the plaster with a dull thud. "YES! FUCK! JUST LIKE THAT!"
Marcus set an immediate, punishing rhythm, hammering into her with piston-like force. The wet, meaty slap of flesh on flesh, the scrape of her back against the wall, his harsh, rhythmic grunts, her escalating cries – they filled the room, drowning out Jeff’s ragged breathing. Marcus held her pinned, her body jolting with each deep, brutal drive, her breasts bouncing. He fucked with focused, furious intensity, a desperate claim staked against the control she wielded, trying to obliterate her command in raw physical power.
"Look at him!" Rhonda gasped, writhing against the wall, her eyes finding Jeff, transfixed on his knees, his hand unconsciously stroking his own hardening cock, his face a mask of agonized arousal and shame. "Look at your worthless cuckold! Getting hard watching his wife get ruined!"
Marcus didn't look. He buried his face against her neck, biting down hard, drawing a sharp yelp, driving into her with even more brutal force, as if trying to pound her through the wall. "Take it, you controlling bitch," he snarled, hot breath scalding her skin, sweat dripping from his brow onto her collarbone. "Take every fucking inch of it!"
Rhonda locked her arms around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders, meeting his thrusts, arching into him, demanding more. The raw, untamed power of him, his rage transmuted into fucking her senseless against the unyielding surface… it was transcendent violence. Her climax coiled, tight and fierce, a pressure building relentlessly. "Harder! Don't you fucking stop! Make me feel this tomorrow, you animal!"
Marcus roared, a sound ripped from his core. His thrusts became frenzied, almost brutal, uncontrolled. The wall shuddered in its frame. Rhonda screamed, a raw, primal sound, her body convulsing, clamping down on him in violent, rhythmic spasms that milked his cock. He slammed into her pulsing depths three more times, then froze, buried impossibly deep, roaring again as his release exploded, hot jets pumping deep inside her. He pulsed, shuddering violently against her, his grip on her hips like iron vices.
He held her there, pinned, both of them gasping, slick with sweat, the air thick with sex and exertion. Rhonda’s legs trembled violently where they locked around him. Slowly, deliberately, Marcus lowered her until her feet touched the floor, his softening cock slipping free with a wet, obscene sound. A thick stream of his seed immediately began to seep from her swollen, abused opening, tracing a glistening path down her inner thigh.
Rhonda sagged back against the wall for support, breathing raggedly, a triumphant, feral light blazing in her eyes. She looked past Marcus’s heaving shoulder at Jeff, still kneeling, frantically stroking his own hard cock now, his gaze fixed on the creamy fluid leaking from her cunt. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. "Jeff," she rasped, the sound raw but utterly commanding. "Clean up your mess. Get over here."
Jeff scrambled forward on his knees, driven by a compulsion he couldn't resist. He stopped between her spread legs, his eyes glued to the glistening evidence of Marcus’s possession. He leaned in, his tongue extending, trembling.
Marcus shoved himself away from the wall, stumbling slightly, a look of profound disgust twisting his handsome features as he watched Jeff’s tongue swipe through the sticky mess on Rhonda’s thigh. He snatched his discarded trousers from the floor, yanking them on. "I need air," he growled, the words thick with revulsion and something more dangerous – a cold, seething fury barely contained. He grabbed his shirt, not bothering to button it, and stormed towards the bedroom door. "This is fucking depraved." He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the suddenly silent room.
Rhonda watched him go, the slam vibrating through her. Then her gaze dropped to Jeff’s eager, servile mouth working between her legs. Marcus’s seed, his rage, his forced submission – it was all hers. She tangled her fingers in Jeff’s hair, guiding his head roughly, forcing his tongue deeper. The power was absolute, intoxicating, a narcotic coursing through her veins. Marcus’s exit wasn't retreat; it was the fuse being lit. She felt the coming explosion deep in her bones.