The sensations his thumb and cock thwarted were horridly embarrassing for the young woman. Modest and proper, forced to become everything her husband would have wanted and failing miserably. Her problem was that her happiness didn’t come from the man who now tortured her young body. Oscar had left her to find that on her own, because, how do you make a man who finds fault in everything happy? He was taking her body violently and in ways that would be her ruin because he wasn’t happy with what she’d given him already. And so, he’d buried himself behind her wetness and now played with her modesty as if she was a toy.<br/><br/>His thumb continued its rampant desecration of her hold on both reality and the wrongness of the entire ordeal. He wring her arms and not until he spoke did she understand that the belt was now held by his teeth. Just as she turned her head, terrified of what she’d see, he slid two fingers into her swollen, needy sex.<br/><br/>She screamed.<br/><br/>Touched at every sensitive point possible, her body went into overload as she convulsed around his fingers and his hardness. The pain she’d felt was in the background, a tender burn in all the places he’d placed violent marks on her perfect form. In its wake was earth shattering pleasure that left her blushing so deeply.<br/><br/>He’d never seen her writhe quite like this. He’d never seen her come so undone that she just didn’t care anymore. He hated her, Elsie knew that, even when he pretended otherwise. That was her truth. Bubbly, vibrant, little Elsie who loved her husband so dearly, who blushed when he lifted her nightgown each night, who thought it scandalous enough that he enjoyed the way she tasted … was reduced to a whimpering heap of woman, marked and taken.<br/><br/>Yet, she didn’t have it in her to hate him, but she didn’t acknowledge what he’d accused. Men wanted terrible things and wasn’t it her job to just make him happy?