Page 11 of Iron Bride

Side note: I’d need to make sure all future doctors were all female.

There was no reason for anyone to ever see my wife naked. She was mine. End of.

I kissed down her abdomen, to the small divot of her belly button. Then lower, to the shaved mound that I had averted my eyes from all night. Her pale complexion extended to every part of her body, except for the sweet pink petals between her thighs. I suspected that her nipples would be quite rosy too, but that wouldn’t be my focus for now.

Not when she was so compliant and smelled so divine.

Don’t look an Italian gift horse in the mouth. Not when you can ride her bareback instead.

I placed myself between her thighs, lips hovering over the cunt I was ravenous for. She tensed, fisting the blanket at her sides.

Does she think I’m going to bite her? Because she’d be right.

I took a sweet fold into my mouth and grazed my teeth along the delicate flesh. She moaned as her eyes fluttered closed. I swiped my tongue along her slit, groaning against the musky delight of her wet pussy.

She was eager. It was undeniable.

I was surprised. But also, a man. And she was my bride—so surely this was my right. To feast on her, and delight in the pleasures of her body.

Marriages had been built on far, far less.

When her thighs shuddered, and her moans turned into screams, I pinned her thighs to my shoulders, took her clit in my mouth, and held on for dear life. My body rejoiced in her orgasmas her wetness coated my chin as she writhed to unseat me from my new favorite place.

She came again and again, as eager and wanton as any fantasy I had conjured in all my years.

“Please, stop,” she said, her hands pushing at the top of my head as tears streamed down those full, rounded cheekbones. “I can’t.”

“One more,” I demanded, as I sucked a final throaty scream from my sweet little delight.

She was crying when I crawled up her body. The tears streamed freely down when I cupped her face, placing my weight on my elbows and knees so I didn’t crush her.

“Have I hurt you, Wife?” I asked, kissing her cheeks.

What instinct made me act this way? I wasn’t sure.

She shook her head. But still, the tears flowed.

“Don’t lie to me,” I said, frustrated that even now she was holding herself away when I wanted nothing more than to peel her apart.

“I’m not lying,” she said quietly.

“Then speak, woman, before I call the doctor back here to confirm—”

“It’s not fair that you can do this.” Her interruption took me by surprise. “I hate you. I fuckinghateyou. But you can do this. You have arightto do this. And I can’t stop it.”

I waited, wiping each tear as it appeared, choosing not to kiss them away, even though that was what my soul longed to do.

“I’m your prisoner. As you said. I have no choice in this.” She shook her head, bringing her hand to her face, batting my palms away. “The least you could do is not make me feel anything when you do it.”

I was confused. Her words made no sense.

She’s lost her marbles.

“Have the decency to just… fuck me and get it over with. Don’t make me feel this.”

“Feelwhat?” The frustration crept up my chest, and doubled when I realized that Iwantedto comfort her.

You can’t comfort ice! For fuck’s sake.

---