She Fucked Another Man

She fucked another man.  

While I was at work she fucked another man.  

While I was writing reports, and holding meetings, and managing stakeholders, she fucked another man. She let him touch her, kiss her, and put his fucking dick in her. She sucked his cock and made him growl and I bet she did the same glassy-eyed smile for him that she does for me when she swallowed his cum.  

I am furious. I am activated. My stride home defies gravity. How fucking dare she. She belongs to me. She is property. She is how I deal with my stress. She is where I keep my favourite bruises. I pour my darkest thought into her ears. How does she even know about other men? I am going to rip her to pieces. 

Mine. 

She is mine. I wish I could put it more poetically but that word hangs in my brain on a giant neon sign.  

MINE. 

She is allowed to fuck other men. 

So maybe we had some fun looking at profiles together. Maybe it was hot to see her attracted to other men who weren't me and didn't even look like me. Maybe this is something we cooked up together, for each other. Maybe we decided to open up the candy store and fill up on sweets. 

But even with all that, how could she actually fuck another man. She has provoked me. She has forgotten what we are. What she is. And she needs to be reminded. 

She needs to be reclaimed. 

When she met him in the hotel room she sent me her location. The glowing blue dot looked all alone but I know it wasn't. She was there with someone else. Just the two of them. Her and him. Without me. 

He doesn't love her like I do. He doesn't worry about her like I do. He doesn't know all her little fears, all of her insecurities. He won't know all the things I have learned about her body. 

He doesn't know her. He just wants to fuck her. 

Did he kiss her right away? When he walked in? Did they meet in the lobby? Is he as tall as I am? Did he put his hand in the small of her back like I do? Did he gently hold her throat the way I do?  Did he whisper in her ear that he wants her? Did she glide her soft fingers into his fly? Did she drop to her knees on her own or did he push her down? What was her first thought when another man's dick slid into her little pretty face?  

And did he think about how she is owned? Was he grateful that I gifted him the sexiest woman in the world or did he think he was stealing her away from her Daddy? 

I don't know what's more maddening - the idea he does the things I do and might have done them better, or the idea that he does brand new things and she likes them. 

From the tube station to the flat it's a 12 minute walk but I will be there in 8. I text her and tell her that I don't expect to have to fumble for my keys or even break my stride, she will greet me at the open door. 

Yes Daddy, she replies. Then a minute passes before she writes again: I'm a little scared, Daddy. 

And for a moment I almost pause. I didn't expect that. 

She shouldn't be a little scared. 

She should be terrified. 

I wheel around the corner of our street and I can see her standing at the door. She's wearing a normal clothes and a normal expression on her face like she hasn't just been swallowing the cum of a stranger while I glared at her little blue dot. 

I storm past her and resist the urge to throw her against the door and make her choke on my cock, right there, for any passers by to see. She closes the door behind me. I move to the kitchen and I sit on the chair. My heart is racing and I stare at her, unblinking, as she enters the room. I can see in her face, in her frame, in her eyes - she has no idea what to expect from me. 

She's never seen me like this before 

And I have never felt like this before. I feel hurt. I feel territorial. I feel like a dam that's about to burst. She has done nothing wrong and everything she has done was done with my consent, and yet I want to extract a payment from every cell in her body so that there is no chance she will ever forget to whom she belongs. 

I want to write all over her. "Whore" on her stomach". "Slut" on her thighs. "Daddy's girl" on her chest. I want her to look tattooed from head to toe in words of ownership degradation so anyone who ever tries to unwrap my fuck toy can see what she is before they lay a thieving finger on her. 

Come here, I say. She pauses. For a moment it seems like she might say something, but she doesn't. She walks over to me. 

On your knees, I say. She obeys and perhaps it's my imagination but I think the shame of it all is making her more compliant. 

I feel all my muscles tense. In another version of the next thirty seconds, I spring onto her like a jungle cat and seize her throat in my jaws as she sobs some pathetic apology into my shoulder. But I don't. Instead, I look down at her and tilt her chin up to me. Open your mouth, I say. She does as she's told. 

I move my hand and I hold her jaw and I spit into her mouth. She gasps with shock and surprise. 

Take off my shoes and socks, I say. She swallows my spit and nods. Her hands rest on my thighs and then slowly move down my legs to my shoes. She undoes the knots and slips them off my feet, pairing the shoes neatly next to me on the floor. Then she peels off my socks and lies them on top of my shoes. Then she waits. 

Kiss my feet, I say. 

She looks up at me, unsure. Now, I say. She nods and then she bends down and places her lips on the top of my foot. My skin feels surprisingly sensitive and she gives it a gentle peck. Again, I say. She presses her lips on me and holds them there and I can feel the warmth of her breath. She sits up, takes the other foot in her hand, and brings it to her lips. This kiss is deeper. Less self conscious. Tender. 

I have never asked for this before. It's not even a thing for me. But I want to embarrass her. I want her to feel awkward and subservient. I want a moment of pause. 

And, right now, I want her to do something for me that she didn't do for him. 

My dick feels heavy as it pushes against my underwear. She looks beautiful, trying to calm me. Trying to bring me back. 

It won't be that easy. 

I jump to my feet and she's completely surprised, falling back onto her arse. Daddy, she says - I think she means it as a plea. I step forward and she shrinks back under my shadow. I grab a fistful of her hair and my fingers curl into her scalp. I listen for her safe word as I drag her across the room and sling her against the wall. She leans against it and places her palms on the floor, bracing herself as I ferociously whip my belt from it's loops and throw it around her neck. She's panting and I've barely touched her. I drop my trousers and let my dick spring out just a few inches from her whore face. 

Did you suck his dick, I ask. 

She looks up at me. She's frightened. And she's turned on. Did you? My voice is louder but men of my size with my tone don't need to shout. She nods. 

Did you like it? 

Yes Da-- Before she can finish her sentence, I slap her across the face and then grip her jaw so she can't move away. She gasps and reflexively touches her cheek. Then she smiles. 

She actually smiles. 

Yes Daddy. I liked sucking his dick. 

An age of time passes. Hours, maybe even days go by in the half a second I take for those words to hit me. It's not just that she did it, it's that she liked it and is ok telling me about it. She's thinking about it even now. My docile and subservient little slut gave herself over to another man just an hour ago and she doesn't even look sorry. 

I should walk away from this game. I should protect myself. I should end this game. I am enraged. This has gone too far. I can't handle any of it. 

I force my dick into her face and she gags, chokes, and then foolishly tries to suck. 

No. This isn't a blow job. You're not my girlfriend. You're a treacherous whore. 

I don't know how much of that I said out loud or just felt in my head. There is no preamble, no warm up, I simply hurl my body weight into her throat at a rhythm and pace that pleases only me. I make exactly two concessions to the fact she is anything more than a toy I can abuse: one, I listen for her safe word or her safe gesture which will pierce through all of this chaos and immediately stand me down. Two, I place my hand between the back of her head and the wall so she doesn't get knocked out as I fuck my way through her face. 

My calves are so tense and my fist yanks at her pretty hair, forcing her head to the exact position I need to satisfy myself. I'm not breathing really, just projecting involuntary guttural growls. I look down at her and tears stream down her cheeks and I don't know if that's because she's emotional or because struggling to breathe, but I do know that until I receive a safety signal, I simply don't care. I use my free hand to slap her again sending vibrations through her delicate face and down the shaft of my cock. 

Her hands claw at the back of my thighs and then she grips them, seemingly torn between trying to provide some resistance to my relentless pace or just using white knuckles to hang on for dear life. I hammer away at her throat, seeing spots in my vision and grunting abuse at intervals, pausing only to slap her face again and again. 

Eventually, I pull my out of her face and she takes a giant panic breath while a long rope of drool bridges from my dick to her lips before breaking and falling on her chin. I grab her neck and pull her to her feet. I can see she's trembling and she struggles with her balance like a drunk. I march her by the throat to our bedroom, making her undertake the journey backwards, facing me and my black eyes as I consider what to do to her next. She can stop this at any time, but even as she shivers and whimpers, she marches towards my next song. 

I toss her onto the floor and order her to kneel at the bed. I stand behind her and I ask the questions I couldn't ask her when she was fighting for air around my cock. 

Was he good looking, I ask, as I remove my trousers and kick them to the side. 

Yes, Daddy. 

Did he kiss you, I ask as I take off my shirt and realise how sweaty my chest now is. The hair on my torso glistens. 

Yes Daddy. 

What did his cock feel like in your mouth, I ask, as I remove my underwear. 

It felt good Daddy, she says. And then she actually volunteers: he got so hard for me. 

I didn't plan to, but I grab her hips and pull her to her feet and press my cock against her arse. My right hand curls around her throat and my left hand brushes so lightly against her clit it barely registers against my finger tips. 

In a low and rumbling voice I have never used before I say into her ear: you cheating whore. 

Yes Daddy. 

I push her face down into the mattress and I kick her feet apart. I grab the loose length of the belt that still hangs around her neck and I pull her head up as I thrust myself into her. The mad hunger of my cock is only momentarily abated and her hips buck and her back arches before me as I stretch her out and pull her down the length of me. For all my ferocity and selfishness, she is absolutely soaking wet. 

How many times did you make him come, I say. 

Twice. I made him come twice, she pants. 

I rake my large fingers down her spine, tracing the shape of her and feeling her shake with every strong thrust. And then I hit her arse with such force even I am surprised. 

But she takes it, like a good girl. 

What was the first, I ask, my cock climbing deeper inside her. I release the belt and wrap her hair around my fist instead. I pull her head back and turn it so I can see her face. 

I sucked his dick and I held his balls and I told him he was so big and hard and he came in my throat. 

Fuck. Another man's cum is coating her throat right now. Another man's cum is sat in her belly. Two dicks in just the last couple of hours. 

What was the second, I growl at her. 

I sat on his cock and I rode his dick, Daddy. He said I looked so pretty and he said that if I was his he would never let me fuck another man. 

I am enraged. My dick throbs. My heart skips two beats. Sweat glides from my head to my beard and I pull her hair so hard that her head snaps back to my lips. With my free hand, I put my thumb into her mouth and she sucks on it without a second thought. 

Did you come? I ask? 

Yes, she moans between thumb sucks. I came all over his cock. As she speaks I feel her cunt grip me, as if it wanted to communicate with me herself. 

I am about to ask her what else he said. What else they did. I can feel I'm close. Close to adding to the volume of cum this sexy little sprite is already carrying. I open my mouth to speak but she manages to get there first. 

I'm sorry Daddy 

No one fucks me like you Daddy 

She reaches behind her and places her hand on the back of my head, pulling me deeper into her. 

My hips increase in their speed without command from me. He words are a light ahead and I am racing towards it. 

Fuck me, Daddy she says 

Give me your cum, she says 

Use me. 

I drop both my hands on her shoulders like bear paws, and I stand up to my full height.  

Usually when I fuck her I am aware of how close I am to coming. I know how to measure myself, when to accelerate or slow down in a mutual dance. 

This isn't a dance. 

I am not in control of my body. 

I am a mess of fury and gratitude and hunger and need and I fuck her wildly as drips of sweat drop from my bald head onto her lower back. She is calling out obscenities but I don't understand words because I am infected with two thoughts. One, that I want to tie her to a post and fuck her so hard and so many times that her body will be reshaped, moulded to the shape of my dick. A sex toy for exactly one man. And two, that she is probably this wet partly because I am using that trespasser's cum as lube. 

I erupt, forcing her against me with a few final thrusts as everything I was holding in my balls is pumped into her cunt. She trembles and calls out my name, clenching to catch every drop. My chest heaves up and down and my fingers relax off her skin to reveal the red marks that will soon graduate into bruises. My knees are trembling and it's suddenly too much effort to stand - she has sapped all of my strength.  

I collapse onto her back and we crash to the floor. She is trapped under my weight and giggles as I sigh with satisfaction and exhaustion. I feel so close to her. I open my mouth to tell her how hot this was. How proud I am of us. How every day with her is a new adventure. I want to reassure her that she did nothing wrong and I am ok. I want to ask her for reassurance too, telling me that she's ok and still feels treasured and trusted and loved. So many paragraphs of affirmations and praise race through my giddy brain.  

But I only manage to heave one word against the soft skin of her neck: 

Mine.