He rushed me, one hand at my throat, the other already reaching up under my dress. “And you think that’s an excuse? Ever since that day you planted her in the garden we haven’t gotten together once. Not once!”
“I kno...know, sir!” His hand on my windpipe made me barely able to speak, and the pressure grew. “I...” (Cough, hack, voice little more than a croaky whisper) “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
His lips formed a cruel smile, the kind that captured me so long ago. “Forgive you? Of course I will forgive you.” His fingers found my wet p***y and easily shoved up inside me. I gasped, fought for air. Through blood that pounded in my ears I heard him say, “You’re forgiven, but you’ve got a lot of ground to make up.”
His fingers raped me, shoving up deep past my soaked lips. Then his mouth was on
