That night, asleep next to her husband, Steven, Anne Marie dreamt, reliving the moments leading up to her arrest. She remembered the touch of Tonya’s skin against her own – soft and sweet and moist with the sweat of passionate lovemaking. She tingled at every remembered embrace and kiss. The scent of Tonya’s hair filled her head and the taste of her sex was on her lips, on her mouth, in her body, and in her soul. Anne Marie hungered for it. She felt a familiar heat grow inside of her. The sudden presence of the Light Patrol breaking down the door of Tonya’s bedroom did not soften the heat. Remembering the feeling of knees in her back and hands on her wrists didn’t stop her from wanting to be touched. The cold metallic confines of the handcuffs made her wet. After she was dragged out of the room and down the stairs, she was in the open, naked for all to see. The force, the menace, the exposure, the eyes, the whispering neighbors –– all the elements of the scene mixed together and overwhelmed her, making her orgasm hard. Her stomach clenched and she screamed as wave after wave of pleasure and passion washed over her. Nothing seemed to stop the onslaught. The patrol stuffed her in the back of the Detention Van with her lover in another cage. Anne Marie threw her head back and screamed until her body was spent and she rested on the cold steel floor of the van.
Then, she woke up. Anne Marie looked around her modest living quarters and lamented that she was not with Tonya after all. Would they be together again? She couldn’t be certain. They definitely shouldn’t see each other until after their sentences had been served. Then, they could resume their secret rendezvous, far from the prying eyes of society, where they make a serene island of peace while the ocean of chaos that composes the rest of the world swirled outside.
That heat was still there. In reality, she did not orgasm when she was arrested. She screamed and cried like a child as she was dragged out into public, exposed for judgment. Embarrassed and ashamed, she lay on the van floor and wondered what had gone wrong. The two lovers had always been so careful. Who knew what no one should know and ruined their wonderful but fleeting time together? Who destroyed the plans and notions and wishes for a future? Who robbed her of “Anne Marie and Tonya”? “Anne Marie and Tonya.” When they were together, they really were like one entity. They moved together. They understood each other. They connected. Sex was wonderful and love was possible.
Her satin pajamas were soaked with sweat. She peeled them off and lay on top of the bedclothes. Her mind far away in another time and place with her Tonya, her hand found its own way between her legs. In mere moments, she felt her second orgasm of the night. Her mind stayed caught in the passion between her and Tonya, playing and replaying it in her head. She couldn’t escape the thought of it, though she knew she should have.
It wasn’t enough. She was still so very hot. Her stomach clenched again. Hungry. More. Had to have more.
Luckily, Steven was sleeping on his back. She touched his crotch and felt how hard he was. Quickly, but gently, she unfastened his lounge pants and let his erection spring free. He woke up to her sucking on him, making him harder. Before she could finish, he grabbed her and pinned her to the bed with his body. He slipped into her wetness hard and fast. She screamed from the pain. He knew how tight she was but still roughly forced himself into her again and again.
“Does it hurt?” he asked without pausing his strokes.
“Yes!” she screamed, clutching him closer to her.
“Good! I hope it always hurts.” He smacked her face. “Did she hurt you? Do you like to be hurt?”
“Oww…No! Stop hurting me!” she whined.
Angrily, he pressed down on her shoulders and thrust himself into her thin small frame hard. She screamed anew. “Stop hurting you? Stop hurting you? Why don’t you stop hurting me, you lying, cheating bitch!” He forced himself into her and each time she grunted a scream, some mix between extreme pleasure and gut- wrenching pain.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she said. Her head lolled from side to side. She kept her eyes closed, incapable of looking at the man she betrayed.
He slapped her again. “Not yet, you’re not.” He almost did not finish his sentence when he tightened up and gave in to a powerful orgasm. She could feel each spasm. The feeling of him filling her caused her to go over again. The heat had to be quenched. This rough usage had to do the trick.
But, when he lay next to her, spent and angry, she felt that heat and it burned her. That need made her ravenous. That voice in her wanted more. She couldn’t stop.
Anne Marie rolled over to him and rubbed her soft skin against his body. “Again?” she asked.
He pushed her away. “Forget it. Call your slut and ask her to fuck you ‘again’!” He walked out of the room and slammed the door.
Alone, her hands found those spots on her body that made her feel best and did not stop stimulating them until yet another orgasm washed over her. In the brief aftermath, she checked the clock. 6 AM. She should make breakfast, or at least some coffee since Steven did not get a full night’s sleep.
She stood to walk out of the room and doubled over immediately. The heat within her raged, unabated. She needed love, release, comfort, affection, and she needed it all now. It did not matter that she was tired and drained. She had no energy for passion. That drive in her still pressed on, a hot poker inside her body that only seemed to respond, however briefly, to sexual satisfaction.
She needed more.
Unable to walk, she crawled out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room, where her husband slept on the couch. She kissed his sleeping face and started to touch his body. He awoke instantly and pushed her away again.
“Get off of me, Anne Marie!”
She started to cry. “I can’t! I have to! Please touch me.” While she wept, she started to play with her body. He looked at her display – her splayed legs and her hand between them; her stiff nipples, sensitive and suffuse with blood, her hand rubbing and pinching them; her tears pouring down her face; her obvious torture – then he looked away.
“I have to get ready for work,” he said, abruptly, then walked past her towards the bathroom.
“No, Steven, don’t-!” She tried to beg for his attention but another flood of pleasure blocked her pleas. Her knees were weak and her legs were weary. “Should I make you breakfast?” she asked between ragged breaths.
“I don’t give a damn!” he called from behind the closed door.
Slow and unsteady, she staggered into the kitchen. She tried to focus on the task at hand: make coffee, scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Each step betrayed her as the friction of her legs rubbing inflamed the reignited heat. Before she could reach the refrigerator, another orgasm racked her body powerful enough to bring her to her knees.
She crawled up the appliance and opened the door. She bit her lip, hoping the pain would block the burn of the heat. Focusing for just a moment, she withdrew the eggs and set them next to the stove before she dropped them. Next, the sausage. Feeling the long phallic foodstuff caused the heat to rise again. She grabbed the bread quickly, sat it all on the counter, and then slammed the door. Opening the cupboard door for the frying pan was torture when stretching her hands over her head caused the heat to shoot through to her head. Still, she managed to procure the pan and get it settled on the stove. In the time between turning on the burner and finishing cooking the meal, Anne Marie had five more orgasms, not that she was counting any more. They caused her to drop eggs, spill coffee, and burn her hand on the pan. The pain cleared her head very briefly, but never for long.
When Steven emerged from the bathroom, naked and drying himself after a shower, Anne Marie had his breakfast on the table for him. Next to it, she was another offering, bent over and baring her backside for him. Though she wanted to control herself, she begged him to use her. He placed the plate on her back and slipped himself into her again. She didn’t mind being used as a table, since the heat felt better when she had his cock in her. It wasn’t much relief, but it was some. He used her while he ate, finished his breakfast, finished in her, and then walked away – not a word spoken. Anne Marie tried to follow him, but could not walk very far without coming again. As he prepared himself for work, she lay fetal on the living room floor, begging for his attention and coping with the heat as best she could. She tried to simply ignore the feeling. She still came, just not as quickly. When he came back out in his work boots and blue overalls, she was a pathetic, weeping creature on the floor.
There was a knock at the door. Steven pulled it open as far as the chain would allow. A man’s voice came from the other side, hidden from Anne Marie.
“Hello, Mr. Thomas. I’m Warden Jefferies from the Department of Corrections. These are my guards.”
Steven said, “I forgot you were coming today. Please come in.”
When Steven opened the door, three men in black uniforms and silver stars of law enforcement entered the room. One of the men had a red armband and seemed to be in charge.
“Ah, I see it’s taken effect already,” Warden Jefferies, the man in the red armband, said when he saw Anne Marie’s condition. He impatiently snapped his fingers. The guards picked her up and carried her quaking, nude form into the bedroom. The warden entered, followed by Steven. “This will do nicely,” Anne Marie heard the warden say. “Not too small or cramped. Now, we need two chairs.” A guard helped Anne Marie get comfortable, placing a pillow under her head and another under her hips, focusing on his role and ignoring her attempts to take his clothes off or pull him on top of her. The other guard vanished into the hallway, but then reappeared with two chairs from the kitchen. He sat them on the far side of the bed. “OK, looks like we’re ready to begin,” the warden said.
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ev8bzl/an_excerpt_from_wages_of_sin