"Doug, please…" she began in a softer voice, making a futile attempt to cover her naked breasts.
"Now take off those slacks!" he ordered, his eyes fastened on the cream-like flesh of her quivering breasts.
Betty didn't know what to do. If she obeyed him, and took off her slacks, she knew he'd only get excited and aroused at the sight of her naked body. And she didn't want that! She'd seen the look of lust leap into his eyes when he'd torn away her brassiere. But if she refused to obey him… in the mood he was in, he might kill her!
Doug's fingers tightened even more painfully on her bare forearm, and fear made Betty fumble with the zipper of her slacks. Slowly, she began to peel them down over her fearfully trembling thighs, hoping that her husband would have a change of heart. But he didn't. Trembling, she stepped out of the garment, and stood there, clad only in a pair of diaphanous white panties.
"Well! Well! Well! You're not so fiery now," Doug leered, staring at his nearly-naked wife. "Now let's see you take off those panties!"
"But Doug…" Betty began in a mortified voice.
"No objections!" her husband snapped. "Just do as you're told!"
Humiliated, Betty inserted her thumbs in the narrow elastic waistband of the panties and began to ease them down over the gentle swelling of her hips. Finally she stood there, completely naked, her head lowered in embarrassment.
Doug continued to stare at his wife's lovely alabaster body. His eyes were riveted on the russet triangle gleaming between her thighs, and he couldn't draw them away from the enticing spot. When he had ordered her to strip, he had done so compulsively without really thinking. He had to find a way to assert his masculinity, which had been resurrected so magnificently by Selma, and which had been temporarily deflated by Betty's tirade.
Now he was goaded on by a feeling he couldn't name, but which he knew had to do in some way with his guilt about Selma. If he had had a fully legitimate excuse for being so late, he knew he would have called, or even if, by some chance, he had neglected to do so, he would have made some effort to placate Betty when he finally did get home. Instead, he had gotten just as angry as she had. But now, something else was taking possession of him. As he stared at his wife's shapely, naked body, he was aware of the first stirrings of desire. Even though their lovemaking was never usually a really satisfying experience, he still got excited by her voluptuously curved body, and tonight was no exception. She looked like some beaten Goddess, standing there, with her head bowed. Her long red hair had become undone and framed he face with tawny tendrils. Her full, ripe breasts were defiantly upswept, and her slender waist fell away to gracefully curved hips.
"Betty honey," he began softly, relaxing his cruel hold on her arm. He flinched as she shrank from him, but steeled himself to make another attempt. "I'm really sorry, baby. Let's…"
"Don't touch me!" Betty hissed, her voice venomous. Although a part of her wanted to accept his reconciliation, her pride would not let her. He had wounded her too deeply, and she had to have her revenge.
But Doug had had enough. Her loathing was so obvious that he couldn't ignore it, and he had to show her that he was the boss. With a brutal shove, he slammed her hard against the kitchen table, making her cry out with pain. Stumbling, she lost her balance and fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor.
In a moment, Doug was beside her, his hands tightening on her hips, forcing her into a humiliating position on her hands and knees.
"Oh God, why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed piteously, too enfeebled to try and struggle.
"I will, don't worry," Doug chuckled lewdly, "when I've finished with you!"
His fingers were racing over the flaccid moons of her softly fleshed buttocks, leaving ugly red wefts in their wake. Cruelly, he strained apart the rounded ass-cheeks, revealing the dark trembling crevice of her ass. His eyes seemed to glaze as he stared at the illicit crack, and then, without hesitation, he reached down and ran his long pink tongue along the quivering split.
"Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh! Aaaaahhh!" Betty sobbed, desperately wriggling her buttocks in a frantic effort to escape. But it was futile, and a crimson blush flushed her face as Doug continued to slaver and lick at her secret place. Dear God, he must be out of his mind…
At last, the lewd licking ceased, and a feeling of relief swept over Betty. Maybe now he'll let me go…
But her relief was short-lived. Fear rose inside her as she felt the unbelievable nudging of his finger at her tight little anus, and a shiver of trepidation raced along her spine. What in God's name was he going to do? Almost in answer to her terrified thoughts, Doug began to shove harder at the tight little ring, watching it crinkle defensively under his touch, and then, suddenly, he rammed it forward, forcing it past the tightly-clenched sphincter, inserting his middle finger in the dry, resisting darkness of her anal depths.
"Aaaaaarrrrrhhhhh… stop! Stop! Please stop!" Betty begged, wriggling her soft, cream-like ass-cheeks frantically, as she tried to elude the forbidden intruder. But her struggles only seemed to assist her husband and he was able to bury his finger to the first knuckle in her tortured rectum.
Crudely, he began to rotate it inside her dark channel, making her squirm and moan with agony. But he was oblivious to her groans and continued to burrow his alien digit in her soft, rubbery depths. After what seemed an eternity, he finally pulled it out, and the pain began to recede from Betty's agonized back passage. She felt cramped and uncomfortable from the awkwardness of her position, and she thought of appealing again to her husband's mercy. But deep down inside, she knew it was no use. She had driven him over the brink by her callous nagging, and it was too late for him to draw back. Besides, her pride made it impossible for her to give in any more. He could do what he liked with her, but he would never break her spirit. He might conquer her body, but her mind would never submit.
But she couldn't resist gasping with new horror when she realized what was happening. At first she couldn't believe it, but it was obvious.
"Oh no! Please no!" she moaned when she felt the hard rubbery head of Doug's penis pushing crudely against the tiny defenseless opening of her rectum. She knew it was fully erect, because it felt granite-hard and unyielding, and fear clutched at her throat. She wanted to scream out, to make a desperate effort to get away from her husband, but she couldn't. She was immobilized by terror, all strength drained from her by the realization of what was happening. Oh God, how was she to bear it?
Doug stared down at the palpitating length of his fully inflated cock with satisfaction. It lay long and powerful against the trembling split of his wife's anal crease, the knobby head rubbing lewdly against the crinkled dark anus. He knew that Betty was afraid, and he reveled in her fear. It made him feel masterful, and made up in a small way for the degradation she made him feel with her taunts and accusations. But he wanted to subjugate her further, leave no doubt in her mind as to who was boss. And he was sure that when he'd finished with her, she'd know for sure…
Betty winced when she felt the giant burgeoning head probing blindly at her fearfully cringing anus. She felt numb all over, and her brain refused to register what was happening. She could feel the lascivious pressure getting more insistent, and felt the searing tightening of Doug's fingers of her softly-rounded buttocks, and then…
"Aaaarrrrgggghhh… oh God please stoooppppp…" Her voice rang out piteously and her whole body shook and vibrated as she made a last frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis which was stabbing salaciously at her defenseless sphincter. But it was useless. She couldn't move forward more than a couple of inches. She was a complete prisoner in her husband's hands, and she was powerless to do anything but submit to his wanton designs.