I'm pulling the boat into the harbour to begin the new phase of our life. I look over at my wife who is looking amazed at the noises and lights of this new place. As I suspected we hadn't hit customs or any kind of border patrol which was good, as my wife is a fugitive from justice, and I was the one who orchestrated her escape. What I also am, is her victim.
I guess I should go back to almost the beginning to explain.
It wasn't more than a month into our marriage. It had been a fantastic year for both of us. I had joined a company which had been struggling. They cut salaries and paid me in stock repeatedly. Then, the product made the news, one thing led to another, and the company got bought out. I was not super rich, but in the range where with good management, I wouldn't have to work another day. My wife too had not only one boss go down in flames but two. Each of these resulted in her making maybe 15 years of career growth in less than 2 years. She was well-paid and good at her job. In the midst of all this, we had got married.
I think the good thing and the bad thing was we were both high on life and super busy. The simple reality is we were both good looking and hard working and this seemed to make us a good fit.
But, now I was enjoying myself. I worked stupid hard in school, I worked stupid hard at the last company, and I wanted to relax. I did lots of solo fitness. I had hived off some of my money to play investment games with. I bought a boat.
My wife on the other hand had 400 employees under her and was stressed all the time. Except she mostly thrived on this stress. The more things went wrong, the happier she was. The other problem which was less foreshadowing and more a screaming red flag was that she would hit me as the solution to her stress. Even before we married she slapped me on dozens of occasions. However, the violence level was directly proportional to her drinking. The crazy part was she didn't drink to excess. It might be a slap or two without anything, but one glass of wine in and she might hit me with whatever was in her hand at the time. Often, it was something she didn't give a shit about; it was just something that stressed her out. The main problem was that a lot of things stressed her out.
I mostly could avoid this as it was almost boring in how it worked. She would show up wound up, or read her emails, and sometimes even the news which would affect her work, and the buildup would start. Out would come the names, I was lazy, I could do more, I didn't deserve her. Then bam a purse across the head, or something. Maybe once, maybe dozens of times while I curled up on the couch.
Then she would stomp off. Most times she wouldn't acknowledge her violence, but sometimes she would come back with a half apology, she would usually say something like, "Work has me all riled up, it doesn't help that you parked the car in the wrong spot."
The problem which messed with my head was that when she got really bad, the sex got really good. We were both very good looking, very athletic people, so the sex was kinetic. But, where this could even get weird is that if something genuinely stressful was going on at work, she would not easily be able to orgasm. This is when she made what was an unfortunate discovery. She had just lowered herself on my face. She has a wonderfully tight vagina and I was doing things parting her lips with my tongue and then lightly biting her clit and she was somewhat getting into it, I knew I had my work cut out for me and didn't have much hope for an orgasm for her but I worked at it. I used my tongue, I used my teeth, and about 5 minutes in and about 3 minutes past the point when she would normally have clenched my head hard in her thighs while an orgasm rippled through her. She tensed for a moment and then she slammed a fist into my balls. I screamed into her pussy, and then another fist slammed into my balls. I writhed and bucked hard, but she had a near perfect wrestling position and my movements were more spasmodic than coordinated. Then on about the 5th blow, she was grinding herself hard on my face, with the 7th blow her thighs tightened around my head, hard. She had an orgasm which was probably top ten in our relationship. She tried punching my balls a few more times, but they mostly just landed on my stomach and thighs. Then she just fell limp on me. I could feel her breathing hard.
Then she rolled off, and I rolled over and just curled up clutching my balls. She used her feet to push me to the floor and said, "I need to just savour this alone."
I discovered I was sobbing as I took each inhale.
I just lay there for maybe 5 minutes when I heard moaning from the bed. She was masturbating herself hard. She had done this a few times in my presence, but she was in the throws of passion almost instantly. This was partially turning me on, while at the same time concerning me that my balls could be damaged. We probably looked a sight, me on the floor fiddling with my testicles while she moaned and rubbed herself on the bed. I lay there while she had not one but three orgasms back to back. My problem was that by her third, I was hard as a rock. I stood up and she saw my rock-hard tool she pointed to her pussy and I got on top and slid inside her tightness without effort. She was having another orgasm with very little effort and this pushed the ache in my balls into a strange pleasure and for the first time in my life, I had a screaming orgasm.
Nothing was said by either of us as we lay there both sweaty and feeling complete.
I was worried she would jump on this as a new bedroom routine, but our next few times were more vanilla.
This all changed one night when some accountant who didn't report to her had gotten caught with some pretty petty fraud. This was causing a big audit which was stressing her out. She drank about 3 glasses of wine while working herself up. I went for a long swim as I doubted she would jump in the pool to hit me. I hoped she had calmed down as I came in from the pool. I didn't see her and was rubbing my hair with a towel when a line of my back was on fire. I fell to my knees when another lash went across my knees. She was standing over me in her business suit, a grey suit jacket over a white shirt, with a knee-length pencil skirt. Normally, a massive turn-on for me, but she had taken the inch-wide belt from her skirt and was now lashing me with it screaming that I did nothing to help. I just tried to fend off the blows, but she maneuvered the belt to wherever it would hurt the most. Even taking it on my arms was painful. I tried to get up to run when she kicked me right in the balls. I did throw up. I fell face first to the floor and the blows kept coming, mixed with kicks. It was nothing short of a severe beating. I was crying and in such pain that I barely noticed when it stopped. I'm not sure but I may have passed out because there was one moment in the beating where I was curled up and another where I wasn't and I don't remember the transition.
I lay there for a long time before I could even take an inventory of any damage. I tried to get up in a pushup but I think she had stomped on my hand. So I rolled over which told me I might have a cracked rib. I eventually wiggled up and didn't know what to do. Nothing seemed entirely broken. I didn't want to go to the hospital. I wanted to just soak, but going in the pool wasn't the answer as I might pass out. It was at this point I noticed I was naked. She had torn off my shorts at some point. From the feeling, she had heavily focused her belt on my ass. I had to hold the wall as I staggered down the hallway. I wasn't going to use the bathroom in the master bath, but I did look into our bedroom and she was naked and splayed across the bed. I stepped in a bit and the room reeked of sex. I knew like the time previous she had gotten herself off on this, but this time the room was almost humid with her scent. She had seriously gotten off.