Page 168 of Petite Fleur

She reaches and tucks one of his hairs out of his face, smiling down at him and making rage bubble within me.

I hate when she looks at other men.

If he weren’t already about to die, he would be now.

“Mistakes happen.” She says with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

“Exactly! It was an accident!” He says urgently.

I "tsk" him and shake my head when they both look at me. "Her falling was certainly an accident, but how does one accidentally stomp on the back of someone's head until they’re pulled away by patrons of the bar?” I ask.

Matthew starts to ugly cry again, like a really ugly cry. I hate it when they do that; it's laughable. "No. She embarrassed me in front of half the bar!" He yells through his sobs.

I roll my eyes and head toward my cabinet of equipment.

I'm not done with this guy. "I'll only be a few more hours, ma fleur. If you want to head upstairs and grab a shower or some dinner, I'll be up in a little while for round two." I say sweetly to my lovely wife while I dig for a few tools.

My girl huffs and spins around until she can face me. “There’s a knife inside of me, and I haven’t gotten to kill anyone in months.” She pouts.

I love this woman so goddamn much. “He’s all yours.” I say with a smile.

Maeve grabs a crowbar, a primitive choice, but she prefers brute force violence, while I like them to suffer; it works for us.

She's fucking brutal, and I'm obsessed.

Watching my wife kill has to be one of the hottest things I've ever seen, aside from watching her cum.

I sit back, admiring my girl while she smashes Matthew's kneecaps with the crowbar, earning pathetic screams and begging for mercy. "So what does this Emily look like now?" She asks me.

My patient is rough, and she has a rough life ahead of her. "She's needed facial reconstruction, almost a full mouth of dental implants and skin grafts. She was able to ask the EMT on the scene for a DNR, but the family argued it. Otherwise, she wouldn't even still be here." I explain.

I feel so bad for this young woman that I probably wouldn't have her committed. If she told me she wanted to die, I'd understand. The life she is forced to live now is a hard one. She will always have struggles and I would more than understand if she was too tired to continue.

She's been tube-fed for almost two years since her mouth doesn't function how it should anymore.

Maeve looks down at Matthew, shaking her head like she's disappointed in him. "You know, my son Oliver is six. Even he knows that it's not nice to hurt women. You're supposed toprotect them from idiots like you. We have enough struggles in our lives without men adding to them." She lectures.

I have to hold back a laugh at my wife lecturing this grown man like she does our kids.

Matthew sobs, his screams quieting for a moment. "I'm sorry! Okay? It was a mistake! I was drunk!" He looks so pathetic, begging my wife for mercy like this.

Maeve doesn't do mercy when it comes to the scum of the earth that we deal with. "Sorry doesn't fix Emily's face, does it?" She asks, staring down at him just like she does our kids when they screw up.

She's half this man's age, yet he's looking at her like a toddler that threw a toy. "Does it?" She yells, smacking the crowbar down onto the metal table.

Matthew jumps, his tears starting up again. "No!" He yells.

Maeve ends up smashing Matthew's jaw with the crowbar, making him howl in pain before passing out. When he’s unconscious on the table, she reaches under her skirt and rips the knife out of her cunt, stabbing him in the temple and finally ending his life.

“He was boring. Can we go for round two now?” She says with a shrug.

I quickly stand up and pull my girl into my chest. “We can, but you broke the rule. Now you know what happens, right?” I ask with a smirk.

My girl grins and shrugs, faking innocence I know she hasn’t had in years. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to, please don’t fuck my ass.” She says sarcastically.

I grip her ass tightly, digging my nails in until I see her fighting off a reaction. “Go upstairs and strap yourself into your spreader bar; I want you on your hands and knees by the time I get upstairs.” I demand.

I have a few things to clean up down here before I can join her, but that will give her a moment to get cleaned up before I make a mess of her again.

Tonight, I want to welcome my girl home properly. I want to devour every inch of her while our kids sleep just down the hall.

I want her to fall asleep when she’s in tears, begging for mercy and full of cum.

I want her aching with each step tomorrow while she pretends we’re a typical family.

She can wake up early and surprise the kids with breakfast before we spend the whole day together like normal people.

That is until the kids are in bed and our next toy is strapped into the basement.

The End.

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