Absolute Humiliation E-Book

Malory Chambers

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Absolute Humiliation

Leseprobe

Absolute Humiliation

(Making My Cuckolded Husband Clean My Bull)

By Malory Chambers

Copyright 2015 Malory Chambers

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

Good Little Housewife

Every day brings the same monotony of activities that enforces the idea that I am a wife in captivity.

My phone buzzes at the side of my head, informing me that I have five minutes to wake up before it starts getting loud enough to wake my husband as well. I slowly let my eyes adjust to the darkness, taking in a few deep breaths to will my groggy mind awake.

I turn my head slightly, pressing my cheek into the soft pillow and watch my husband's peacefully sleeping face. His lips was slightly apart and drool trailed down his chin and onto his pillow. He had come home a little past midnight yesterday and was so drunk that he could barely stand up.

That didn't stop him from trying to have sex with me though.

I knew what he was after the moment he stepped through the front door reeking of alcohol. His work suit was wrinkled and dirty, the pants torn at the knees from the stumbling.

"Pay the cab," he ordered flatly and sat on the couch.

I took my wallet and walked out to pay the cab driver, who had such a disgusted and annoyed look on his face that made me wonder what Danny had said to him.

"Thanks," I murmured in an apologetic tone and gave him the last twenty dollars in my wallet.

The driver sped off without another word, leaving a faint scent of vomit and booze behind him. Danny probably threw up in his cab.

When I walked back into the house, Danny was no longer on the couch. I locked the door behind me and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and a painkiller.

I wasn't really surprised when I found Danny in the bedroom, his pants already off. I could barely see his cock through the thick pubic hair. Alcohol and boners are not friends.

"Take off your damn pants, bitch," he ordered, his voice grating.

"You're drunk," I said, hoping that if I distract him long enough, he would get bored and fall asleep on the bed. I pushed the water and pill to him.

"I told you to take off your damn pants!" he swung his hand at me, but I was a good three feet away from him. He stumbled dumbly and pretended that nothing happened.

"Just drink the damned water with the pill. I won't be responsible for your hangover tomorrow," I said.

"Fucking bitch," he said, but relented, taking both items from my hands. He popped the pills into his mouth and washed it down with the warm water.

"Now take your fucking pants off," he said. "Or I will," he added ominously. Even drunk, he was twice my size and weight. I knew he could do it, however despicable it was.

I hooked my fingers through my pants and shimmied it down carefully. My oversized shirt was long enough to hide the fact that my panties were still on.

"Now suck my dick," he said, gesturing to the messy bush of curly hair between his legs.

I shook my head no and crossed my arms. "I'm not sucking your tiny dick," I said.

Blood rushed to his head and his glare burned through me.

"You will do as you're told, bitch!" he said, gesturing to the empty side of the bed.

"No!" I responded tautly.

He got off the bed and grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt. I stood my ground and glared at him until he let go of my arm.

"Lie down, bitch," he said.

I took a deep breath and lied down next to him, all the while hoping that he would fall asleep before he started anything.

It was humiliating. A few years ago, I didn't mind about his smaller sized cock. What mattered to me was that he loved me and satisfied every other aspect of our lives. It didn't matter that he couldn't get me off.

That all changed after I lost my job and he became the sole provider of the household. The power of me relying on him completely for even the most basic of needs didn't take long to get to his head. His words became law and I went from having a loving husband to a dominating, stubborn, and drunken almost-stranger.

He crawled on top of me, his beer belly brushing against my flat stomach. I could smell the foul stench of alcohol in his breath and turned my face so that his kiss would fall on my cheek.

"I need more money for groceries," I said as unromantically as possible.

"You're going to have to work for it," he said with a forward hip thrust that bumped our bodies flush together.

Not only did he miss, his cock was so flaccid that I could barely feel it past his pubic hair. He grunted loudly as he continued thrusting, balls slapping against my panties every time he pushed forward.

In his drunken haze, he hadn't realized that my panties were still on. I kept still and tried to melt into the bed as he humped me like an animal in heat. The bed creaked to the intensity of his thrusts, an annoying repetitive sound that grated my nerves enough to kill any arousal that may have surfaced otherwise.

I found it hard to believe that I had loved this man once upon a time. He hadn't always been like this. Living paycheck to paycheck made him bitter. His alcohol addiction didn't help either. I saw a trace of lipstick on his neck and wondered if he had an affair going on with one of his colleagues.

I've seen his colleagues though. They're all older, big sized women and I know they aren't his type. He prefers them young and skinny. I still fulfill the latter, but am quickly growing out of the first requirement.

I couldn't feel his boner through the pubic hair. It was pathetic.

Evidently, the sensation of his limp cock brushing against my panties was good for him [...]