Bill stood in his boxers and wife beater shirt.  He wore it because it was part of the physical presence he liked to use on Abby.  He still wasn’t happy from the last visit to the therapist.  He wasn’t happy about Abby’s current attitude, hell, he wasn’t happy about much and these in house rape sessions with Abby had become something beneficial to his own attitude.  He held a leather whip, medium length, with lashes and dangled it absently around Abby’s shoulders.  Abby shivered from what he hoped was more fear than excitement.  She stood and appeared like she was thinking it was time to run.  Instead, she looked in Bill’s rage filled eyes and sat on the bed.  Her face was red and she shuddered.
 

Bill decided he was ready to rock as he swung the whip, “Don’t make me break a sweat.”
 

Abby stood again and cringed, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
 

Bill felt himself swell, “We both know what you really want.  Now SIT.”
 

Abby sat and closed her body up.  Bill moved in front of her blocking her world from anything but focusing on him.  He swung the whip at her, but she blocked the blow and pushed him back, “No!”
 

Bill flailed his whip at her shoulders, “Fuck, can’t you get anything right?”  Abby dodged the blow and bolted for the closet slamming the door behind her.
 

Her voice came from the closet, muffled and unsure, “You have to talk to Victoria.  Please, this isn’t how it is supposed to be; safe, safe, safe.”
 

Bill squared up at the door, he didn’t want to kick it in; that was pricey, instead he used his deepest voice, “You don’t want safe.  You want power and money; you want me. By the way, safe is a stupid safe word.  Now, out of the fucking closet and on the bed, Slut.”
 

Bill grabbed the door handle, and felt Abby hold it tightly from inside the closet.  Bill decided on fear as a weapon and pounded the door with rage that was just this side of wood busting.  He could feel her lose her grip on the handle and ripped the door open.  His rage towered over her fear.  In his head he factored the likely outcomes and cursed himself, even when he was fucking he couldn’t get actuarial thoughts from him mind.  Would she call the police, would she submit, would he have to force her with real violence?  The fact he had gotten the door open without too much trouble factored in that he could just rough her up and use her.  His fear of the police dropped even as his erection grew.  Slowly, so purposefully and demonically, he grabbed her hair in his fist and wrapped his thick fingers in it.  She couldn’t move a muscle even if she wanted to.  Bill wondered if she did, then suddenly he didn’t care.  He stared in her eyes and felt that she didn’t have any more real resistance.  He didn’t tug or rip her mane; he simply lifted her almost dead weight.  He could see terror and sexual excitement in her face.  Finally, he was going to get to fuck her again.  He made a very distinct differentiation between “being fucked by” and “FUCKING” someone.  Tonight she was going to give it up and he was going to just fuck.  That was his preferred way and he got instantly harder.
 

Bill took her in both hands and tossed her on the bed.  Her body bounced once but her skin did a Jell-O dance even after her bones were still.  Tears coated her cheeks but her breath got shallow with excitement.  Bill ripped her clothes from her.  He was happy to replace those.  He could see that her darkest side begged him to skip making love and just fuck her like the slut she had always felt like she was.
 

She offered up a pitiful voice, “Please, just love me.”
 

Bill needed to rub his power in to get even for the day at the therapist and the call from that Dominatrix Bitch Victoria, “This is how you like love shown isn’t it, Slut?
 

Abby cried, and then opened herself and pulled Bill on top of her.  Her arms quivered as she offered the very center of herself to his violent soul.  With a hopeless voice she made her doomed request, “Please, don’t call me slut.”
 

Bill’s mind filled with thoughts of turning the tables on Victoria, fucking her this way, making her submit to his power.  In his head he could see her beneath him; her face, those controlling eyes filled with tears.  
 

Abby disappeared from his view and his mind.  Victoria was now below him, begging him to hurt her.  It was time for her to pay this time.  He slammed himself into her.  He felt harder than he had since being a teenager.  He ravaged Victoria through his slut wife’s body.  He had been laying his manly pipe for less than three minutes but he was so close.  He yelled at the body below him, “You are such a great, Slut!”
 

Abby took it all, bending to his will, just like Bill knew that Abby had done with her father.  Breathlessly she gave consent, “Yes, fuck me hard.”
 

Bill felt himself start to peak but couldn’t quite get over the hill; he started to falter, no he screamed in his head, not now.  He forced his thoughts back to Victoria.  He reared up, over his wife and slapped her face hard.  At the instant of contact he erupted into her.  As quickly as he came, he jumped up and walked from the room, saggy ass waving goodbye to his devastated and unfulfilled wife.
 

Abby laid still doing nothing but trying to force Bill’s seed out of her with her inner muscles.  She cried inside and out before falling asleep to the sound of baseball in the living room.