A Forced Descent

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Melanie & Tim

Melanie felt him enter her and allowed it to happen.

It was two months or so after her visit to Katya and she felt nothing at her husband’s entry apart from the discomfort supplied by the habitually selfish and clumsy arrival of his average and faithless prick in her disinterested p***y.

At first she had been amazed at the tales she had heard from the wives of the men he worked with, only too pleased to speak of the number of different women he was tomcatting around with on her. But then she realised, if the self-involved performances on the mattress she had experienced were any guide, there would not be too many coming back for more and would make a high turnover inevitable. For instance, Tim loved blowjobs, but not once had he placed lips and tongue at the service of his wife’s p***y and had even had the nerve to berate her for wanting him to act in an unmanly way when she had grown frustrated enough to ask.

The only positive thing about his lovemaking was that it was not of any great duration and, sure enough, this occasion proved to be no different as, within a minute or two of having entered her, his abbreviated gasps told her he was about to gush.

How had it descended to this, she asked herself. Memory functioning normally, to her knowledge, she truly could hardly recall a time when she had felt attracted to him. Despite his undoubted good looks and the head of thick black hair of which he was so proud.

Had she ever really loved the man? Was there really a time when she dreamed of having his children and their children in turn giving them both grand-children? Had she truly wanted to grow old with such a self-serving user?

And yet she must have – even if such thoughts, especially children, now repulsed her.

Why else would she have married him?

Certainly not for his money.

Her own family were hardly poor and she had been in demand by suitors in possession of more wealth than him. Fair enough, they were comfortable, but they were not rich. Even the London house belonged to a childless aunt who had no time for Tim but doted on Melanie – with a strong hint it was to be left to her niece.

Despite her husband.

She was aware, of course, that he – they - had more money than he let on. He was an accountant at a broking firm in the City and earned a good salary. A salary he managed to double each year by tracking the investments of his company’s more successful clients and investing in a small way himself – ‘small’ because he was too timid to gamble the amounts gambled by the clients he was attempting to ape.

Not that Melanie saw any of the money accruing from these investments, they went straight into an offshore account he thought she was unaware of and was used to fund his wining, dining and shagging of the various bimbos he had a passion for - her unsuspected knowledge of all his banking details and passwords giving her a small sense of power; even if she had yet to use it.

No.

There was something from their initial courting that had led to her allowing her life to take second place to his she was missing.

But what was it?

Perhaps it was his confidence, she told herself as she felt his emissions coat the walls of the p***y he had penetrated but had, thus far, been unable to impregnate – another lack, having wanted children at one time, that made her tolerance of both his control of her and his faithlessness a mystery to her and – especially – Katya.

Having married her slightly older husband early, she had long been at the point of wanting to scream. But then nothing she said or did had ever impacted upon him in their twenty-one years of marriage and nothing had changed. Even the most basic of domestic irritancies, such as leaving the lavatory seat up seemed beyond his capacity to correct and she had reached the conclusion that he persisted with them because he took pleasure from seeing her irritation.

Of course, his more animal desires had remained consistent: self-serving, demanding, and rough; believing, it seemed, the only reason she did not enjoy s*x was her habitual frigidness.

That it could be distaste for her insensitive and selfish husband not occurring to him.

“If you’d just let go, you could be a great f**k,” he had told her on more than one occasion, as if his own idea of lovemaking and the way he went about it had no impact.

“We’re supposed to f**k. We’re married,” he had told her once. “If you can’t enjoy it just lay there and take it”, she remembered him sneering at her as his d**k again made its way into her.

He had, she realised with no small bitterness, polluted her relationship with not just him but all males she who might just want a s****l encounter or encounters with her when he was out of his life. In truth, she was feeling less and less guilty for the s****l daydreams that substituted women or girls for the men who previously occupied her erotic fantasies. These “fantasies” taking on more and more the quality of an event waiting to happen with the appearance in her life of Alina, an elfin and delightful teenage friend of Katya’s.

It was an “event” Melanie yearned for with a passion that intensified with each encounter she had with the girl.

Coming back to the present and the sensation of her unfeeling husband moving within her as he attempted to get his jollies with no thought to her own, Melanie resigned herself to his attentions. She had learned from years of experience that the best course of action was to let him get his rocks off and hope it was over and done with as soon as possible. In fact, she had almost come to feel grateful to the sluts who were keeping him occupied enough to leave her alone.

“That was awesome,” he said, rolling off her onto his side of the mattress. “I so love pussy.”

“And it doesn’t matter who it belongs to,” she snarled to herself as she slipped from bed to en-suite bidet to flush him from her system, the small matter of him using the word “p***y” as a generality not going unmissed by her.

The truth was that the cheating and controlling bastard loved any p***y, on anyone, she told herself, and there was certainly enough fresh meat passing through the City broking company that employed him. From almost the outset of their married life together she had been relegated to a domestic position and expected to stay at home, dependent upon his income. Having ran a Temp Agency herself and having been on the verge of opening her own business she was disappointed when he insisted she was insulting his ability as a man to take care of the woman he loved by continuing to work and, loving him back at the time, she acquiesced to his demand.

Being denied an occupation of her own yet another thing she resented him for, even as she scolded herself for her own inability to stand up to him.

Something Katya also reprimanded her for – if with affection.

Men in their fifties, she had heard, were supposed to lose their s*x drive along with their hair. Unfortunately for her, Tim’s ability to gain an erection – if not how to use it – seemed as intact as the full head of grey streaked hair he took such pride in owning. Despite his dalliances, he still wanted s*x three or four times a week and this was three or four times a week too much for her.

Remaining on the bidet after she had cleaned away the evidence of him, she realised she was putting off what she knew had to be done. If she dallied any longer he would be asleep and the opportunity would have passed. This time, though, it would not be just herself she was letting down.

Now, there was another with a stake in the reclaiming of Melanie’s life.

Prevarication or not though, her anger at the way he had used her down the years made what she knew she had to do easier. The weeks of planning and plotting with Katya helped also. In a ridiculously short space of time – much as Katya seemed to achieve everything in a ridiculously short space of time – all she needed had been put in place to give her a huge measure of revenge against the man who had professed to love her.

It was this anger that motivated her up and away from reflection to action.

Flushing the bidet, she stood before a full length mirror and studied her reflection. Katya, she decided with no false modesty was right. Even in her early forties she remained an attractive woman, body firm where necessary but fleshy enough not to be mistaken for those poor misguided women who made the chain-smoking, cocaine snorting twiglets of the catwalk their role-models of choice. Her generous breasts remained firm below a pleasing if not beautiful face and there was still life in her striking green eyes, despite her husband’s best attempts to still it.

Thoughts dwelling on him and his treatment of her, she made for the bedroom and prayed she hadn’t hesitated long enough for him to fall asleep and prevent him pestering her to take him in her mouth for a second round of pleasure.

Pleasure for him, that is.

He was on his side as she entered and Melanie thought she might have missed her chance, but then, taking her courage in her hands, just as Katya had encouraged her, Melanie changed her routine by making the first move and speaking.

Duplicitously.

“That was wonderful, sweetheart,” she told him, pleased at the way his head came up at the baseless and heretofore not experienced words of praise.

At least from his wife.

It had not been long into their marriage that she had come to look upon her passive acceptance of his lovemaking as a duty, much in the way she saw doing laundry and shopping; not to mention vacuuming and cleaning. The only difference being she could at least take a minimal and low-grade satisfaction from the more everyday housewifely chores and take pride in accomplishing them to the best of her abilities.

When he f****d her she just wanted the deed over and done with.

A lack of enthusiasm explaining Tim Kennedy’s reaction.

“Really?” he asked, c*****g a frankly disbelieving eye in her direction.

Melanie noted, with glee it must be said, something hopeful in his expression and took it as a sign she was doing something right.

That she might become a more enthusiastic participant in his one-way pleasuring enough of a carrot on its own to prevent him questioning her sudden change of attitude. It being, she knew, yet more evidence of Katya’s assertion that a man’s intelligence lay between legs rather than ears. An assertion of which her pompous, supercilious and sexually self-centred partner was living proof.

Emboldened further, she nodded and reassured him still more:

“For the first time in ages,” she continued, I really enjoyed having you inside me. You just seemed so… so… masterful.”

Hearing the words leave her lips, Melanie couldn’t be sure if she found them more sickening than risible and prayed neither response revealed itself in her expression when there was so much at stake.

He had risen up to lean on an elbow now and from the excited look on his face she knew a request for oral could not be far behind. The thought brought a smile he took as anticipation to her face as she told herself he was going to be getting more oral than he could handle from now on.

And not from her.

“I’m going to get us both a nice glass of Rioja – to build my master’s strength up,” she told him in a coquettish voice he had not to that point heard her use. “Then I’m going to suck his love-stick as if my life depended upon it.”

To a look that mixed desire with astonishment, a naked Melanie left him to ponder her buxom but shapely rear view as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and the Rioja.

Not to mention the vial of industrial strength animal sedative supplied to her by Katya.