**Note: Part 7. I do not, nor will I ever, condone violence against women. I actually finished this chapter before Part 6.**
**Trigger Warning: contains r#pe.**
***
“We’re out of sour cream, ice cream and chocolate syrup.”
I looked at her in confusion then replied with skepticism, “sour cream AND ice cream? You’re not eating those at the same time are you?”
She looked at me with her left eyebrow cocked and a tired look on her face. You only run out of sour cream OR ice cream but never sour cream AND ice cream, at least not at the same time. Shit’s weird, I swear.
I’m sitting on the couch, playing with Maribelle pumping her legs to and fro. The little bug is laughing and giggling as she kicked her little legs, she’s such a happy child. “Alright I’ll get some. I’ll just take my bike since it’s only three items.”
“It’s kind of late out, just take the car,” she reasoned as she moved in to sit next to me.
“I haven’t ridden my bike in a while. Beside, it’s cool out”
I went upstairs and slipped on a pair of windbreaker pants, a white shirt and jacket and gave my wife a kiss as she sends me off with Maribelle sitting against her hip.
“I’ll only be a minute.”
It’s a cool, crisp night and it actually felt great riding my bike. The grocery store is nearby so it wasn’t a long trek really. The moon is bright but the lights of the city muted the star’s own.
I met Harry inside, one of the people I see often enough to actually strike a casual conversations with. He’s a young kid, probably 17 or so, and he’s friendly enough.
“Hey David, how’s it going?” He said as he scanned my items.
I shrugged, “wife’s craving some Ice cream and I wanted to watch my shows. I compromised and I’m getting her ice cream.”
He laughed. He’s always been a little nerdy. He’s mentioned joining the Air Force after he graduates, I wish I thought of that. I probably could have gotten a college education through them and have some money.
But then I’d never have met my wife, and have never built our wonderful life together. Sometimes I wonder how my life would be if I did go to college and have never met her, but I honestly couldn’t think of a better life than now. A loving, albeit sexually insatiable, wife, weird ass in-laws, and a cute daughter.
I bid him farewell as I made my way outside, grabbing the plastic bag.
The little bike rack that I parked my bike in has always been a popular hangout but usually by store employees taking their break. I can see a guy standing against the wall, probably a homeless guy.
But my instincts are telling me something else. I can see his pocket, a little tight on him but I can make out what looks like a pocket knife. That’s fine, I had one when I lived in the streets, but next to it is what looks like a crack pipe. I took in my surroundings and I passed by some sandbags and some potted plants. There’s not much in terms of weapons, but I can make do.
The light flickers and in that flicker I saw a shadow. The bike rack is on an awning with a pillar on the right side, and there’s a person behind that pillar.
I saw the little sign, a quick nod. I sighed as I kept walking. I know I’m walking in a trap, but these people might target someone else. Someone more frail or weaker. I can’t have that.
So when I passed the pillar, I heard a little scurrying and when I heard his footsteps behind me so I threw my shoulder right at him. The other guy, caught unaware, rushed me but he’s met with sand in his eyes. I had to set my items down, I almost lost the ice cream to the ants, but the blinded mugger screamed and shouted.
I kicked him straight on the chest and he fell against the bike racks. The second guy, finally standing up, ran up to me with a knife drawn. I had to take my jacket and wrapped one of my arms with it. I’ve been in enough fight to know that, it may not work much against stabbing but the way he held the blade looked like he wanted to slash me.
And he did. He made wide slashing attempts at me and I guess in their alcohol and drug fueled movement he didn’t have enough energy behind it. By this time a crowd has gathered but kept back because of the knife.
I guess I’m a little rusty, but he’s managed to land a flew slashes on my arm that made it through the jacket. It could have been worse.
“Call the cops!” Said a woman’s voice and I guess that made him realize that he’s not going to win this fight and made a rush at the crowd, his knife leading him. I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt, I’m fine with him hurting me, but no blood will be spilled on my account.
I chased after him and caught him by the shoulder and when I turned him around he flailed wildly.
Then he caught me.
I felt a wetness running down my legs. No, I didn’t piss myself I’d have done that in the beginning. He ran his knife against my thigh.
I looked at him, his crazed eyes, and slammed my forehead into his nose. I couldn’t think straight. I wasn’t sure what happened afterwards because I blacked out.
The next thing I remember is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Something that I will forever regret and I wish my wife did something more to punish me for it.
I’m looking down on my wife with tears running down her cheeks. It’s not like the type that I’m used to seeing, the one where she’s been choking on my dick kind of tears. No, these were tears of pain and suffering, but at the same time she smiled as if she hadn’t seen me in a long time.
“Welcome back,” she said as she let out a pained whimper and she brushed my cheeks. “Welcome back, my love.”
I looked around me to find myself in a familiar surrounding. I’m home, in my living room specifically, but how? She’s half naked and I’m on her. I looked down and my dick is inside of her. I looked at her body and she’s covered in blood. My blood.
“Did… did I…”
She threw her arm around me and hugged me tight. “No!… No no no don’t… shh shh, David, don’t think of it like that. Okay? Look at me, look at me babe. I’m fine, I am fine! Okay! Don’t, just don’t.”
“Did I… rape you…?”
She pushed me up and cupped my face and her face is alarmed but comforting. “Honey, no you didn’t, okay? I.. this is a game okay! We’re just pretending, okay honey? Don’t… don’t.”
“I… I….”
I started crying. My tears joined hers and I couldn’t bear to look at her. I buried my face on her chest. I swore to myself, on the day we met, that this girl would never shed a tear because of me. I swore to her father that I will protect her. I swore to her mother that I would forever love her. Growing up, the kids at school called me a rape baby. They teased me and said my mother was raped and I’m the result of it and that’s why she never wanted me. That’s why she couldn’t bear to look at me and she gave me away. The people at the orphanage never really confirmed it, but they didn’t deny it either.
What have I done? Have I possibly turned out to be just like my father?
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go to the police.”
She stroked my head and held me tight. “No! No, no, David… Shhh, shhh, David, my love. It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re safe now, you’re home.”
***
David’s been gone for an two hours now. The grocery store is, at most, a 10 minute bike ride. I’m starting to get worried.
I hear the door opening and I rushed downstairs. I had just put Maribelle down as she has finally gone to sleep.
I stood at the top of the stairs and horror rushed through my entire body. David looks ragged and bruised up! He has cuts on his arms and across his chest, his left arm has a rather large one running across it. His left thigh is bleeding pretty badly. His jacket is gone.
I panicked. I didn’t know what to do but he just calmly walked over to the kitchen, I followed him, and took out our first aid kit from the cupboards.
I looked at his face. He has that glazed look on it, he barely blinked but he’s doing the things he needed to do. He cleaned and applied gauze on his thigh wound and wrapped it in ace bandage. He cleaned his cuts with alcohol and the large gash on his arm is covered and sterilized. He washed his busted up knuckles and dressed them too.
“David, honey? Are you ok?”
He looked at me with that same empty, blank look, and I could tell my husband wasn’t there. Then, he pushed me against the wall and stuck his tongue down my mouth. He’s kissing me, but his eyes are wide open and empty.
I couldn’t believe it. He’s being forceful and aggressive. He grabbed my ass and squeezed to the point where it’s almost painful. I’ve wanted him to take the lead in our love making, but not like this. I pushed him away but he grabbed my hand and pulled me in close.
He carried me to the couch and sat me down, took out his cock and fucked my face. I’m trying to push him away, trying to get myself away but he’s so strong. So forceful. While I can’t say I’m not enjoying this, the fact that my husband isn’t with me is what’s making this feel so wrong.
He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, not this David. My David wouldn’t do this, but my David wasn’t in the helm of his mind. I gagged and coughed, my spit is staining my blouse but as soon as he let me take a breath he dragged me back onto his engorged erection. After a minute of intense face fucking he pushed me down the couch and roughly pulled my shorts and underwear off.
“David, stop! David!”
But he couldn’t hear me. He shoved his thick prick in me and it was painful. Painful because I wasn’t accepting and willing. I screamed and cried and I tried to push him away. If this was normal, if my David was there this is something I would have enjoyed! I’m trying to push him off but he’s just strong and I’ve started to become exhausted. I’ve been wanting to try something like this. Something similar.
But not this. Not like this.
He thrusted into me so mercilessly, so forcefully, like he was fighting against something or someone. So I held him and brought my lips to his ears.
“David… please… David, it’s me… David you’re hurting me, please stop. Come back to me, my love.” I whispered into his ears and I cried softly.
I then looked up at him and he blinked a few times. I saw the little light come up from behind his eyes and finally, my David is back! The love of my life came back!
“What…? Where?
“Welcome back,” I said and I couldn’t contain my tears anymore. I whimpered painfully and my lips quivered. “Welcome back, my love.” I brushed his cheek and I could see the confusion clearly on his face. Then, the realization hit him and he looked down. In the 8 years I’ve known this man I’ve only seen him cry twice: during Rosa’s funeral and this very moment. He didn’t even cry when Maribelle was born!
***
“So honey, have you ever heard of CNC?”
I put the news paper down and looked at her. “I have no clue what that is, but I have a feeling it’s something I am not going to enjoy. It better not be one of those things where Maribelle has to spend a day with Simon.”
She just gave me that suspicious smile and she twiddled her thumb. I hate when she twiddled her thumb because she’s usually thinking of naughty things.
That night was a week ago. We talked after I had calmed down and I realized that, even though we’re having intercourse almost as much as rabbits it wasn’t on my terms. So the fact that I have little control has made me frustrated. Sexually frustrated? I don’t know. Shocker, I know, and I didn’t even realize it.
The cops visited me a few hours after I came home, oddly enough the same guys I met when I ran way a couple of years ago and they even remembered me! That made it easier for me as I explained the attempted mugging and why I left. Lanie had no idea I had to fight off two muggers. She thought I fell off a ravine. We don’t live anywhere near a ravine or a hill, where did she think I rode my bike to? I looked to my wife as I was about to confess about me raping her, but she wrapped herself around my arms and held my hand and gave me a squeeze.
Lanie has rescinded the free use policy, but I think I’ll start initiating intercourse more often. I’ll have to work a little harder in making her happy, and if it means some weird sex thing then I’m all for it. I still have those lingering fears about her leaving me, though, but I haven’t thought of it lately ever since Maribelle entered my life.
Having said all that, here she is throwing in some convoluted abbreviation. I have a feeling it’s something sexual, it usually is with her and anything sexual that has to be abbreviated is usually perverse in nature.
“Well, it stands for Consent-No-Consent.”
“Sounds like a headache. I refuse.”
“Wait, you don’t even know what it is! Hear me out.”
I lent her a skeptical ear.
“Basically you try to rape me.”
And there it is, ladies and gentlemen, the clown to my circus! “Absolutely not! I already raped you and now you’re paying some schmuck to talk me through that, and you want me to rape you again?”
“But babe! Let me finish!” I crossed my arms and sighed, then gave her the go-ahead, “okay so of course we set a safe word if things get too real. So what we’ll do is rent a hotel room and I’ll leave a spare key card with the clerk, just get it from them with your ID okay? Come up to the room and just take me. I’ll fight you, I’ll cry, but I swear to you it’s okay with me and you just force yourself on me. We’ll role play even! If I start getting scared I’ll say the safe word and we stop.”
“So… you want me to pretend to rape you? What about last week when I actually raped you?”
“That was kind of hot and really scary, but I didn’t want it like that. I wanted for us to do it together.”
“Wait, you… you *enjoyed* what I did last week?” I said in shock and disbelief and she kind of twirled her golden hair around and looked away, and she softly nodded. She got up and sat with me, holding my hand and our fingers intertwined together.
“At first… at first I did. But when you started actually fucking me, I couldn’t enjoy it as much. Because you weren’t there with me, my love. You weren’t there to experience it with me.”
I’m not with this idea. I didn’t like making my wife cry last week, and that night has besmirched my honor. But I want to keep my wife happy. After she rescinded the free use she did ask if I’m open to trying new things with her. While I am usually not open to “new” things, I compromised with her. I will try new things but I will NEVER accept another member in this sexual tango that we’re in.
Also I told her to stay away from my butt.
“Fine. my love, for you I’ll do it. I have to say you have way too much time in your hands.”
She tussled my hair as she got up, then gave my cheeks a kiss as she carried off with our baby.
“I’ll make you regret this.” I said softly, “I’ll be the worst at this ‘Cqc’, you’ll see”
I looked up this “cqc” and was a bit confused. It’s a fighting style, interesting actually I might try it out, and one my wife would definitely not be interested in.
“Honey, why do you want to throw hands all of a sudden? Are… are we play fighting? What is this nonsense? There is no rape, it’s basically throwing people around!”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/pkwjl1/free_use_husband_a_night_to_remember_mf_nc