The man turned his car into the street where his home was located, and the familiar stirrings of longing swept through him. He thought of the woman that shared the small house with him. He was tired bone tired, his head ached and all he really longed for was hot bath and several glasses of chilled white wine. And her.

Despite his growing foul temper, entering his home always made him feel calmer, her presence strong. He could hear her in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepared their dinner. Leaning against the door of the kitchen he watched her, a feeling of uneasiness washing through him as she didn't immediately approach with her usual greetings for him.

Normally she would drop whatever she was doing, and prostrate herself. His mind's eye could see each precise movement she made. Her back would arch slightly as she knelt, thrusting forward her full breasts, her shoulders would straighten and her thighs would spread. She was his, and by spreading her thighs displaying to him her heat, allowing his gaze to fall upon the marks he placed there, told him as much.

Today she stood, looking over her shoulder at him. And his mood darkened. He strode into the kitchen, grasping her shoulders, spinning her body suddenly. His eyes searched her face, and cool blue eyes gazed back. He asked why she did not greet him as she should, and her caustic reply was that he was not worthy of her 'gift'. At times he never knew if this was a test she presented him. But this day he cared not. His hand flashed out and struck her soundly across her cheek. Snapping back her head. The sound, echoing around the kitchen.

To his surprise she spat at him. The warm spittle hitting him directly across his nose. He growled a deep low growl at her. His hand again struck out, the slap leaving her cheek glowing red. Her eyes were wild, large and frightened yet he had gone beyond sense now. As his hand grabbed her hair, yanking and twisting it tightly. He pulled her, stumbling and sobbing to the bedroom. Throwing her across their bed.

His lust and rage so powerful now, he felt he had left his body and was standing in the corner watching, as he ripped her skirt from her body. Her cries of mercy falling on deaf ears. His anger and her actions had aroused him. His hard full erect cock throbbed uncomfortably in his trousers. Her ass white against the dark covers of the bed only served to inflame him more.

He reached for the oil, squirting some onto her ass, rubbing some onto his throbbing cock, and without preamble, roughly shoved it into her. Grunting as he did so. Her screams filled the room, his hand pushing down on her head. His cock driving mercilessly into her body, her ass tight and warm against him.

He heard her cries, through the veil of fog that surrounded him. And each cry urged him on. He groaned from pure animal pleasure. His need for her strong and the thought that right now she harboured thoughts of leaving tore at his heart. So he tore into her. Harder and faster, each stroke slamming into her body. She moaned and writhed beneath him. His hands holding her firmly, his nails digging into her flesh. Drawing blood, he could feel it ooze and cover his fingers.