Stein um Stein

Martin was shocked to find his car had been emptied, his clothes and other sundries were stacked none too neatly near the boot. His "contraband" stacked with care on a trolley next to them.

"Sorry, all for appearances, we don't think you have a chaperone but still we can't be sure." Grey explained.

Martin picked up his clothes threw them into his suitcase and opened the boot and put it in.

"See you soon." Offered the Inspector.

"Fuck off." replied Martin and got in his car. He didn't even light a cigarette before pulling off.

"We will be watching you at home, but we can't be with you everywhere, good luck." said Grey, trying to show some support, he knew the next week and a half was going to be very difficult for the man.

Martin drove off, he was pissed off. He was pissed off with everything, his life, his wife, the delay, Mr Franky not so big dick Grimm, and as he saw it, that thieving bastard copper.

He didn't pay much attention to speed on his way home, what was the point? he would be dead in ten days time.

An hour later he pulled into his driveway, the usually reassuring crunch of the gravel under his wheels only served to fuel his anger. He stopped the engine and sat for a few moments to gather himself before getting out and retrieving his suitcase. He locked the car and with a deep breath he headed inside.

"Hello dear, you're later than I expected." her voice was frosty.

Martin glared at her, remembering Greys instruction, behave normally he said.

"I said you are late." she said her voice taking on the manner of a school mistress chastising a pupil.

"Yes I fucking heard you, thanks for stating the fucking obvious." he spat back. "I've been stuck with fucking customs if you must know, and the bastards robbed me."

"There's no need to take that tone with me."

"Isn't there? Well let me tell you now Missy, I have had it up to here." he was almost shouting now as he held his hand above his head. "I am pissed off with all this travelling, fucking customs and what's more, I have had enough of all this bullshit you keep giving me about everything, you keep accusing me of fucking whores well you fucking listen and you fucking listen good. The last whore I fucked was you, and it was a fucking long time ago, now what have you got for me to eat?"

Angie's eyes were wide open with shock, Martin had never shouted at her, never raised his voice, he very rarely swore and never before had he sworn at her.

"Th' theres a salad in the fridge fo..."

"That's another thing I have had enough of," he shouted walking into the kitchen. He slammed open the fridge door and pulled out the salad, then dumping it in the bin still on the plate. He turned to her. "Now fucking cook me something proper."

"I will not." She shouted back angrily. In fact I will do nothing for you until you apologi..."

The sound of the slap echoed through the house.

"Now bitch, get me something to eat, or you can fuck off out of my house now. I told you I am pissed off, and one of the things I am pissed off with is your fucking attitude towards me."

Still rubbing her cheek she knew he was serious and began bustling around, looking in the freezer, she found very little that leant itself to a fast meal.

"Would bacon eggs and some of your black pudding be alright?"she sobbed, now frightened of this man. Her husband that had walked through the door fifteen minutes earlier, the man she thought she knew, the man she suddenly found herself liking a little more than she had earlier.

"Yes but no fucking salad okay."

Angie nodded wiping tears with her wrist.

Martin poured himself a large scotch and walked back into the kitchen, Angie had a pack of bacon thawing in water. "Chips maybe some grilled tomato?" she asked.

"That'll be lovely." he replied and sat down with the daily paper."Apart from the tomatoes, I'll have beans"

Angie said nothing to him, trying not to cry. Normally he would be eating his way through his spunk dressed salad and she would be getting him worked up ready to eat her semen filled snatch. Today she knew it would not be like that, and part of her was glad, part of her liked this new side to Martin. She turned on the fryer and as it warmed, she started peeling the potatoes for chips.

Soon Martin was tucking into his breakfast and, twice fried chips, two thick slabs of bread covered in a generous amount of butter. The black pudding he loved, he had learned to make it from his father, a butcher. He didn't like the mass produced stuff so he still made his own, he had a few regular customers too. He bought a gallon of fresh blood about every five weeks from his old schoolmate Graham, who owned a pig farm.

"Thankyou dear, that is probably the best meal you have cooked me for well over six months." he said as he placed his knife and fork on the plate. "Now toddle off upstairs and have a shower, it's time you started behaving like my wife again." he said cheerily, any sign of anger now gone from his voice. He noticed her eyes dart to her handbag and a flush in her cheeks, he also noticed she made no move to pick it up as she left him.

I should have done this months ago he thought as he checked the syringe was still in her handbag, before following her upstairs twenty minutes later.

She was laying on the bed waiting for him he walked over to where he had seen "Franky" stand earlier and pulled her head to his groin. Without a word of protest she took him into her mouth, he responded to her touch and grew erect, he watched her and could see the surprise on her face, He wondered whether she had started to believe this tripe about his little dick. He held her tightly, until she swallowed his length down her throat.

She did that easier than I remember, she must have been practising, he mused. Then he moved from her and climbed between her legs, pulling them up and placing them over his shoulders.

"You don't seem as wet as you normally are when I get home from Europe, but you don't seem as tight as I remember, so it's probably for the best." he observed as he pounded into her.

She knew he was lying, there was nothing between them size wise. But his words tonight had cut her, the crack about the best meal in six months, her wetness or lack of it, they hurt because she knew it was the truth. Now her husband is just taking her as the slut she is, her juices started to flow and her excitement grew as she headed to an orgasm. He watched as he pounded her, oddly devoid of pleasure. He felt nothing for her and when he saw she was responding to him he pulled out, and then slammed into her arse. He bottomed out in one push.

"Funny I thought arseholes were supposed to be tight, yours feels looser than your fanny, what have you been sticking up there?" he said, a caustic edge to his voiceas she gasped at the sudden, unexpected invasion.

"N' nothing." spluttered Angie again the words cut through her.

Martin didn't reply, he knew that if there was any lubrication it came from Francois fucking Grimard, but he resolved he was going to dry hump her arse every day till he died, which was about nine by his reckoning.

Eventually he came, pumping two weeks of semen into her bowels. Once he finished discharging, he held her in place. Taking a small amount of pleasure from her discomfort till he slipped from her.

"Go clean yourself up, then you can get me ready for round two." he told her She surprised him by complying without a word of protest and moved to the bathroom.

As she started to wash herself she wondered what had just happened. He had been so different. She had to admit she had been pleasantly surprised, if not shocked at the size of her husbands member. It wasn't small. Why had she thought it was?

She began to wonder why she had become involved with Francois, he used her like meat, he didn't make love to her, he used her body to masturbate with. Yes those first few couplings had been exciting, the rule breaking, the subterfuge, the sneaking, and the danger, yes the danger. That had been the draw of Francois Grimard, and she would be a liar if she didn't admit his blackness added to the experience, but she had been a fool. He was too dangerous, and for the first time, in nearly a year she knew she was in over her head. What had started as an fling, and for her at least, had turned into an affair. An affair that had now doomed her. She was only just realising, not only had she been a whore for her lover. He was about to turn her into a real whore. "How long?" She wondered, before she would literally be working the streets?

When her mind moved forward to the things Franky had got her to do to her husband, she froze, the horror and vindictiveness of her actions filling her with shame as she looked at her face in the mirror.

She looked at the face in the mirror, age had been treating her kindly, she had thought herself still beautiful. Now the face that stared back at her looked ugly and depraved.

She wasn't aware how long she stayed in the bathroom, only that she had moved her bowels and washed for a second time before returning to bed.

She found her husband asleep on his back, and obediently as he had told her, she moved her head to him and sucked his cock clean, she sucked him to completion and swallowed. She was unsure whether he had woken, as not a word, not a sound did he utter, as she worked his erection and again sucked it dry.

The following morning he bent her over the arm of the sofa, and again flooded her bowels with his seed. The pair of them wishing he had been treating her in this manner all their married life. Both understanding in their own way, that they mightn't not be making the decisions they were being forced to make now.

Martin left for work, physically satisfied for the first time in nearly a year, as he all but ran out to his car, he remembered he had to restrain himself. He had to give his usual air of depression that had governed his thinking for so long. He had to maintain the appearance of a downtrodden husband, doing what he needs to make a life for himself. As he drove to work he thought of what he once thought he had, how it had been destroyed by his unfaithful wife and that scheming, manipulative bastard Francois Grimard.

Chapter 2

By the time he arrived in his office the anger he had felt last night had returned etching a despondent glower on his face. The weight of his actions, for the near future amassed heavily on his shoulders. Only those that knew him well, would notice any difference, all they would see is the usual sad angry man, stooped over trying to hide from his own insignificance.

Just before noon he was quizzed by Charles Chiswick about his delay at the port. Had Martin not known the things he knew now, he would have wondered both why he was interested, and how he knew. He still wondered how he knew. After returning to his office Martin pondered on this, as he saw it, there were several possibilities. The first and most likely was that his beloved wife had told her darling Franky. The second and third, either his car and or his house were fitted with electronic surveillance, other than he already knew about.He, or his house was being watched or that fucking copper had a mole in his department.

His blood ran cold at the last idea, if that were the case then he was as good as dead. Once that thought hit him it wouldn't go away, why hadn't he got a number to contact that copper. "Fuck me a name might have helped." He thought to himself. He managed to come up with some ideas to put his mind at rest for some, but the mole idea was something that he would be unable to resolve. It didn't matter if it were the case or not.

Every time a door banged, every loud noise or voice caused Martin to jump. As he drove home in the evening he expected a gunman to jump out at every traffic light, to see a gun in every car that passed. He was not even reassured when that car was a police car.

He got home without incident, but was still full of trepidation as he crossed the threshold and closed his door behind him.

For the first time in many years Angie greeted him with passion. She ran to him, and wrapped her arms around him. Lifting her mouth to his, sucking hard on his lips as if she wanted to devour him. She ground her body against him, giggling softly as she moved her hand to rub him through his trousers as he responded. With a well practised hand she deftly unzipped him. As she held him in her hand and expertly manipulated him, he wondered where she had learned to do that. Certainly not with him. Was this how she greeted Franky? How many times? He wondered, had the cow fed him her lovers spunk?"

The thought pulled the blood from his tumescent organ, and he said, "Something smells nice, what's for tea?"

He looked at her, she seemed disappointed and confused her mouth fluttered as she struggled to answer. "Wha'...? ..why di...? er...Steak and ale pudding, mash veg and gravy." He caught a glimpse of her eyes watering up before she let go of him and dashed upstairs. Martin felt a tear forming as well. He also felt confusion, was she having second thoughts? Had she come back to him? Should he try and take her with him on his next, his final trip to Europe?

He looked up the stairs, thinking about going to her, but the thought of her with Grimard sprang back, bringing with it memories of the many times she had pushed him away, the knowledge of what she had made him do, he shuddered at the thought remembering the syringe full of spunk. He looked for, and found her handbag, he looked through its contents, the syringe was gone. His stomach heaved at the thought, but he managed to swallow it back down. The cooking food smelled good, but he now had lost his appetite. He moved through to the lounge and poured himself a scotch and flipped on the television. He heard her come back down the stairs and busy herself in the kitchen.

He sat in front of the TV, not so much watching it, but having a visible focus, he knew his rejection had been a bad move, he also know it was instinctive, and not so much rejection as revulsion. He lit a fag and went over the things he had been told, how he should behave normally at home, how he should have last night chomped down the soiled salad and said thankyou, he also thought about the change in her attitude, was it the slap? or was it because he just fucked her like a street whore? Either way, he liked the change, he also liked the greeting he received. He mulled it over until she called him through to eat.

He poured himself another scotch before joining her in the kitchen.

One of his favourite meals, one she had not prepared for him for at least two years, he felt sorrow as he looked down at the meal before him. He felt anger as he realised it had been that long, the rot in his marriage must have been there a long time. Putting the idea out of his head that the feast on his plate could contain an ingredient he did not want to eat he tentatively took a fork full to his mouth.

His tastebuds exploded with pleasure as he chewed his first morsel, it was better than he remembered, either she had excelled herself, or shitty spunk added something. His stomach churned at the thought, he struggled to keep himself under control.

"Everything all right darling?" she asked, seeing the discomfort on his face.

He finished chewing and swallowed before he answered. "Really good love, seems like ages since you cooked this for us. Sorry about earlier, didn't mean to reject you, just a bit of a shock. It's been a long while since you welcomed me home from work like that. No, not a shock, er , just caught me by surprise, er perhaps we could try again after tea?"

Her face beamed. Again Martin thought sadly, it has been a while since I saw "that" smile from her. She didn't wait, in seconds she was under the table trying to suck her way back into his life.

Tonight has surely reminded me of some of the reasons I married her. as he chomped down another morsel and she chomped down on his. But I don't remember her getting all of me down like that before.

Last night when she had, "followed her orders" and sucked him to completion, she had done just that, wanked him off with her mouth. Today, she made love to his cock. She sucked, she nibbled, she teased. She used her tongue, her teeth and her lips, she brought him close and backed off, time and time again, keeping him on the verge of fulfilment, maintaining both his erection and pleasure. She too had forgotten the pleasure she got from giving him pleasure, his whimpers and groans keeping her already full lips smiling.

Martin had given up trying to eat, her ministrations prevented him from coordinating his arm to feed himself, but all good things come to an end, and eventually she took him over the edge and as he came she took him all the way down, swallowing instinctively with each spasm of his penis. Heightening his pleasure, many degrees past all he had known before. In the first time for forever, he experienced true rapture.

It took time for him to come down from the pinnacle of pleasure she had taken him to, time before he was conscious of anything other than a warm pleasurable glow stemming from deep within himself. After a while, he saw her looking at him, smiling both at him, and with her pride in herself. She sat quietly waiting for him to break his silence.

Eventually he spoke.

"Wow!"

With that, he reached for his glass, puzzled for a second until he realised she had refilled it, he raised it to her, and spoke again.

"Thankyou."

For a second Martin wanted to dive over the table, take her in his arms and kiss her, but he remembered the things he had seen last night. He knew where she had practiced those skills and with whom. He felt the anger rising again, he knew he had to control it, with difficulty he forced himself to think of something else.

"Done anything today?" he asked her.

"Nothing much, bit of shopping. Housework, cooked dinner." she replied.

"That it, didn't you go see someone, no one came round." he pressed.

"No, oh, I talked to Charlotte on the phone." she said.

Ah! Martin thought to himself, Charlotte worked for the Grimm, he didn't know her official capacity but suspected she was one of the Grimm's whores, most if not all women that worked for him were. It was probably her that informed the Grimm of his delay.

"She told me that, that man she works for Frank... Francois Grimard has a position going, I thought I might apply, she said she would put a word in for me."

Martins mind raced, on the one hand he did not want his wife to work for that bastard, on the other she deserved everything she got. Then again why should that bastard get his own way.

Making a decision he spoke, careful not to say anything to slate the Grimms character that might get back to him. "We don't really need you to work, we manage well enough. I would rather things stay as they are, you looking after the house and me, while I go out and work, it fulfils the primaeval man in me."

Her smile didn't falter, if anything he saw a brief flash of relief flicker across her face.

"It's just Charlotte said he pays well and he is a good man to work for." she explained. "You would be able to stop the travelling, we could have more time together, get our relationship back to where it used to be."

"I doubt it." he growled, losing his control for a second. Regaining it, he continued and lied. "I mean, It would take months for me to train someone in all the intricacies of what I do when I am over in Europe, besides I have been waiting until it was official, but there may be a little promotion coming up."

"Oooohh" she squealed, as she ran around the table. "My man, my clever man, come on, lets go upstairs and I will congratulate you properly."

He nodded and followed her upstairs to their bedroom, once there she attacked him again. She all but ripped his clothes from him and dropped to her knees, once again taking him into her mouth.