"I hate you!" she screamed as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry baby..." he said softly, as if trying to coax a scared animal. It infuriated her all the more; this smug little prick was once again belittling her!
"Tell me something, do my thoughts or my feelings mean nothing to you, or am I really just someone for you to fuck?" she asked, her voice now menacingly sweet.
"Love, come on, don't be like that...you know I care about what you feel. It's just that I think you're using this as an excuse to not face up to things. Would I have married you, if I didn't love you?" he asked her, his voice still calm, his gaze still reassuring.
Melissa was fuming, she just looked at him, and a wave of disgust welled up in her.
"You son of a bitch, you smug son of a bitch! So, the way I am, the person that I am, is nothing more than something for you to improve, to meet your high standards?" she could feel the rage building up. For once, she'd like to hurt him, to really get him where it hurts. Melissa stalked over to her husband, who was reclining on the sofa.
"Oh, and one more thing, you didn't marry me because you love me, we got married because I was pregnant. Don't confuse matters." She watched as the understanding dawned in his eyes, the way the hurt came right to the surface, before he abruptly banked the pain.
"Fuck you, Melissa." Was all he was capable of saying.
Melissa should have seen the thin ice she was walking on, but she was on a roll. She needed to vent.
"Yeah, well maybe you should Derek," she shot back at him and made to walk away.
His hand snaked out and grabbed her upper arm, spinning her back round to him. Pulled taut against his body, she was made aware of how small she was. His large hand held the back of her head, as he crushed his lips to hers, and tried to force a response from her.
Melissa responded, taking his lip into her mouth, gently and sweetly, before biting down hard, tasting the explosion of blood in her mouth. He reared back instinctively. She just looked at him coldly.
So much pain, so much anger was reflected in her eyes. "God, she looks hot!" Derek thought to himself.
He lowered his head again, lip still slightly bleeding, he kissed her again. But she refused to respond. It was as infuriating as it was arousing.
"Damn it, Melissa, I want you, can't you see that?" he whispered, pressing his throbbing dick against her midsection. But Melissa merely looked away. It was as if she didn't care.
"Don't fuck with me, Melissa. Don't behave as if you don't want me, or this" - he grabbed her ass, and pulled her firmly against himself -"I know what you say in the throws of passion, I know how you scream, all the nasty things you want. How you beg for me...don't behave as if you don't want me as much as I want you."
"Oh I know Derek, but you know what? You just aren't worth it anymore. I say those things to convince myself that you're worth it. That you're a decent fuck, not because I mean it." She pushed him away, as if suddenly repulsed by him. Melissa turned away, and folded her arms.
Derek saw red.
Viciously, he pulled her back to him, and slapped her. It stung. Melissa responded, her hands like claws, and made to scratch his eyes out. He grabbed her wrists, and restrained her, adding to her frustration. Melissa kicked savagely, nearly getting him between the legs. In response, he turned her around, and pulled her against him, crossing his arms over her front, and locking hers at her side.
"Mmm...You're beautiful when you're angry..." he whispered softly. She just elbowed him, and tried to bite his arm.
He reached for her waist, and tossed her over his broad shoulder, and walked to the bedroom, Melissa screaming and kicking the whole way. She didn't want this! She didn't want to...she didn't want to want him.
He tossed her onto the bed, unceremoniously and lay on top of her. It seemed the only effective way to restrain her.
"Get off me you oaf! You're killing me..."
"Well, at least that makes something we can agree on" he smiled, and reached for his ties in the bedside drawer.
"You my love," he continued, "have a very sharp tongue," as he gagged her with the first tie. Her look spoke volumes.
Slowly, Derek tied up his lovely, and fuming, wife. He tied her left wrist to her left ankle, and her right wrist to her other ankle. Leaving her with her legs drawn up, and her body exposed.
He got up and walked out of the room, surprised and slightly scared, Melissa attempted to scream through the gag, not that it did much good.
Derek returned soon after with a knife, and the fear in her eyes grew. He came and straddled her waist, his erection pressing hard against his jeans.
Looking into her eyes, he lowered the blade to her shoulder, watching how her chest rose and fell in quick succession as her fear grew in leaps and bounds. He placed the edge against her smooth skin, and pressed, Melissa turned her head away and started to cry. Derek cut through the strap of her dress. Then went to the other shoulder and did the same.
Lowering the dress, he exposed her breasts to the cold air. She just stared at him, in fear and wonder. He ran the blade gently between her breasts, she held her breath, for fear he would cut her.
"You see my love, you are mine. You belong to me. As a result, I feel I have to mark you as mine." She wriggled wildly at the last part, now truly petrified that he would hurt her.
"I'm going to carve my name into your skin, and every morning when you look at yourself in the mirror, you'll see my name. And know who owns you." He lifted the blade, so it was at a 45-degree angle to her skin, and made a small cut. A tiny line of red blood came to the surface.
Melissa screamed through her gag, and wildly tried to wriggle away. Derek grabbed her chin roughly, "Don't move, bitch." He warned.
Looking down again, he selected a new spot, this time moving up from the bottom of her breast, to her nipple, and made to cut there. It was too much for Melissa; the intensity of her fear caused her to piss on herself. Which Derek found most interesting.
"Oh, and what's this?" he asked her, lifting up the hem of her dress to look. "It's wet here," he said, as he pressed his middle and forefinger against the material covering her crotch.
"Is this because you want me, or is this something else, I wonder?" Melissa just cried, so humiliated that he would torment her like this.
He undid the fly of his jeans, and his engorged cock sprang free, pushing his jeans to his knees, he positioned himself between her legs.
Melissa was aghast; surely he wouldn't do her when she was like this. He wouldn't use her urine as a lubricant...for she wasn't wet. "Oh please no," she thought, "please, don't let him do this!"
He moved the material of her panties to one side, and pressed the head of his cock into her. Very slowly, he pressed into her. She was tight and dry, but the piss helped. He told her all of this. He thrust in and out a few times, Melissa growing more and more mortified with each stroke.
He stopped, and Melissa silently whispered a prayer of thanks. Derek pulled out and removed the gag,
