I pound my cock into my wife, giving her what she wants. But my eyes don’t know where to focus. On her ass bouncing. Or the sliver of a profile I can see, showing her raptured expression. Or on the man in the chair, wanting to see what he focuses on. Which parts he likes most.
He knows he’s a dead man, but he still has a boner, because no one could watch Savannah in the throes of passion and not get a fucking hard-on.
And knowing she’s mine. All fucking mine.
I drop the last threads of control, and I just let go.
I thrust into my woman and feel her clench around me.
I hold her waist tight. Keep her in place as I bury myself as deep as I can go.
Pound into her. Make her tits and her ass and her everything jiggle with each thrust.
And when I feel her start to squeeze me, I bend forward, placing my chest against her back, so I can reach underneath us. Rubbing that spot where we meet.
“Husband,” Savannah moans.
“What do you need?”
“I need… I need to come.”
“Right now?” I ask, already closing my fingers around her clit.
“Please.”
“Watch him,” I grit the command out as I start to rub her swollen bundle of nerves. “Watch him watching you fall apart.” I keep rubbing, keep pumping my hips. “Go on, Baby. Come for both of us. Show him what you can do.”
Savannah turns her head to watch the man and I immediately feel her clamp down on my cock. And I start to come.
I hear the man groan, and I hear the chain around his neck clank, but I’m too busy to look away. Because my cock jerking inside of her is apparently all my wife needs to send her over the edge with me.
Savannah cries out, her head dropping down as her shoulders curl forward, the orgasm taking over her body.
My balls constrict and I groan as I pump out the rest of my cum. And I keep playing with her clit, keep making her convulse, as I pull out.
I lean back so I can look down between us and see my release dripping onto the floor.
“That’s right, Honey. Push it out.” Savannah’s knees start to bend, so I drag my hand away from her core and hook my arm around her waist. Pulling her against my chest, I support her weight and press my lips to her hair.
“You did so good.”
I reach my other arm around and pull up the front of her dress, tucking her glorious tits away now that we’re done.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Savannah Baby.”
I adjust the skirt of her dress, so she’s completely covered. Then I tuck my dick back into my pants, before I wrap both arms around her.
Her heart is pounding beneath her ribs, and her breath is still coming out choppy. And even though she came so prettily, a fission of doubt creeps into my thoughts.
I lower my face so our cheeks are touching, putting my face between her and the man in the chair. “You okay, Wife?”
A small, strangled laugh leaves her throat. “Jesus, King.” She gives her head a slight shake. “That was…” She trails off and tries to turn to look at the man, but I keep my cheek against hers, not letting her.
“Hot as fuck,” I finish.
Still wrapped around her, I turn Savannah towards the front wall and then walk her toward the door.
She doesn’t resist, and she doesn’t try to look at the man again.
When we make it through the threshold, I pull the door mostly closed behind us.
Stopping on the little landing at the base of the stairs, I pull Savannah’s panties out of my pocket.
She tries to take them from me, but I crouch in front of her. “Let me.”
Savannah braces herself on my shoulders, then lifts her feet in her cute little shoes, as I slide her lacy panties up her legs.
She’s still messy, and I know it’s probably uncomfortable for her, but the vision of her like this is going to be burned into my memory forever.
Standing, I reach back and grab the shirt off the door handle and help Savannah into it. Only this time I fasten more buttons, covering her to her throat.
Hands on the shirt collar, holding her in place, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Go up to the car and wait for me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Letting go with one hand, I take the key fob out of my pocket and hold it out for her. She takes it, but before I let go of her collar, I lower my face to hers. “Do one more thing for me, alright?” She gives me a little nod. “Don’t overthink it, Baby.”
Savannah nods once more, before I let her go, and she climbs the stairs.
I wait until I hear the front door of the building open and close, then I head back into the room.
My shirt is still unbuttoned all the way to my waist, but I don’t intend for this to get messy, so I leave it.
The man, Pony, is still right where we left him.
The Alliance has been following him for a while. Tracking his movements, hoping he’ll lead us to someone in charge, because we know he’s involved. He’s always been just a go-between, but he’s involved.
But some of our guys were watching him tonight, when Pony decided it would be a good idea to try and snatch a woman walking home from the bar.
But lucky for her, unlucky for Pony, our men got him in their van before he could get her in his. Which all just means that his usefulness to us is over. Because loose cannons can’t be trusted. And rapists can’t be left alive.
I put my hands on my hips and look down at the slimy fucker. “I had some big plans for you. But I’m feeling pretty good right now, and I’d prefer to keep smelling like my sexy wife’s pussy, and not your bloody carcass, so I think I’d rather just get this over with.”
His eyes widen, and he tries to speak, but the cloth jammed into his mouth, along with the tape circling his head holding it in place, prevent words from forming.
I click my tongue. “The time for talking is over.”
The chair Pony’s sitting on is secured to the floor, but Pony himself isn’t strapped to the chair. He still can’t get away. But we’ve learned how annoying it is to untie a corpse from a chair, so we found a better way.
First we cross the captive’s ankles, so they resemble an X, then we use high strength rope in a figure eight pattern to secure them together. This leaves their knees spread apart and their feet at an angle to the floor. So even if they tried to stand up, they wouldn’t be able to walk.
The hands are simply cuffed behind their back. A tried-and-true method.
And without looking, I know Pony is missing most of his fingernails. Which is how I know he has no more information to share. And why there’s no point in removing his gag.
And then the chain…
One end is padlocked around Pony’s neck, and my eyes trail up the length, to the ceiling where it runs through a series of simple pulleys, before hanging back down to the floor, where it’s secured with a hook.
Again, in theory, he could try to get up. But his feet wouldn’t work properly, and he’d fall. And since his arms are of no help, he’d most likely just flop around until he hung himself.
It’s happened before.
I clap my hands together. “Alrighty then.”
I stride across the room, to the tool chest, and open the second drawer down.
I want to make this quick. But not too quick.
My fingers hover over the selection, and I grin when I see the Bowie knife.
That’ll do.
I spin the blade on my palm as I turn. It’s a pointless skill I learned in my twenties, when I first got my hands dirty. It’s showy and foolish, but effective.
Case in point, Pony starts trying to shout.
“I’m not going to cut your eyes out, so you can just chill,” I keep my tone conversational.
I let the knife twirl once more as I come to a stop before him.
“But…you do need to be punished. And I can only think of one appropriate course of action.” I grip the knife so it’s pointed up. “Just know that this is gonna be unpleasant for me too.” I let the knife twist, so it’s pointed down, as I thrust my arm downward.
Pony leans away from me, giving me the perfect path.
The tip of my razor-sharp knife cuts through the front of his pants, and through the base of his still half-hard cock, until it meets the resistance of the chair below him.
It’s not the sound, it all went too quickly for there to be much of a squelching sound. It’s that little bit of friction. The way the blade sliced so easily through his dick with only a small amount of resistance.
I quickly release my grip on the knife, leaving it where it is.
Pony screams for real this time. High pitched and agonized.
While I press a fist to my chest, fighting down a gag.
“I know, man.” My shoulders shake in a shiver. “Like I said, unpleasant. But, live a shitty life, die a shitty death.”
Pony is choking on his own inhales. And I’m sure the snot running from his nose has something to do with that. But it’s the blood pooling in his lap that makes me fight off another round of gags.
Usually, we leave the dick and balls alone, but this fucker had it coming.
I take a few steps away, to where the chain is secured to the floor. I grab the length, then kick the bottom free from the hook, tightening my hold so the chain doesn’t roll back through the pulleys. Because loosening the chain around Pony’s neck is the opposite of what I’m about to do.
“You still with me?” I give the chain a little jerk and it jostles his neck. Pony groans and looks up at me through tear-streaked eyes. My fingers tighten on the chain, and my tone darkens. “How many women have cried because of you?” I pull down on the chain, increasing the tension, and pulling up on Pony’s neck. “How many of them did you show mercy to?” I pull harder. His neck stretching further. “My guess is zero.”
I put more weight into it.
Pony’s wailing, but he stays seated, not rising to his wobbly feet like I’d envisioned.
“The fuck?” I mutter. “Can’t you even die like a fucking man?”
I’ve got probably a hundred pounds on Pony, so he should be in the goddamn air by now.
I yank harder on the chain, throwing my weight into it.
And I see the issue, the second before it resolves itself.
The tip of the blade was buried further into the chair than I’d realized, pinning his body to the seat, by his dick. And as the chain finally pulls him up, the knife stays stuck, slicing his pants open as he rises, and slicing off the shriveled end of his appendage. Which falls out of the hole in his pants…and onto the floor.
My body recoils, jerking away from the little thing. But I’m still holding the chain, and I jerk the chain too hard. Or just hard enough. Because the motion is accompanied by a snap, Pony’s neck giving way, that I feel all the way through the chain.
I let go of the chain, standing with my hands out at my sides, like I might get some of it me if I move as Pony’s body crashes forward to the floor, the length of the chain following his weight, unthreading itself from the pulleys and pooling over his body in a noisy clatter.
I’m frozen between revulsion and humor as I take in the corpse in front of me. Face down, ass up, severed dick only inches away from his open eyes.
Revulsion wins out, and I wipe my hands repeatedly down my chest. Trying to brush away the grossness of it all.
A sound, like the start of my name, draws my attention to the doorway.
Nero is standing there, hand on the door handle, mouth open in a disgusted frown, eyes narrowed on Pony’s form in disbelief.
I straighten my shoulders, pretending like I’m fine with it all. “Shut your mouth, you look like a Muppet.”
Nero slowly moves his gaze over to meet mine. “You cut his dick off.”
My head tips side to side. “Technically, that’s true. But it wasn’t the plan.”
Nero scrunches his nose. “And it smells like sex in here because…?”
“Because my wife is cooler than yours.”
Nero’s eyes move back to Pony. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Uh, ew.” I gesture to the body and growing pool of blood beneath it. “This was after.”
Nero turns to head up the stairs. “I don’t want to know.”
“Dude,” I follow him up. “It’s not like we fucked on top of Pony.”
“I said I don’t––”
“We just fucked in front of him.”
Nero throws his hands up. “I don’t want to know!”
