"And are you getting it now? Are you getting what you need, baby?" he hollered at her.
"YES!" she screamed back. "Yes, I'm getting fucked like I always needed to get fucked! My cunt feels really good for the first time in my life! Do you hear me, Tom? For the first time!"
She knew she was courting disaster, but in her hysteria she didn't care any more. All she knew was that she was not going to let him put all the blame on her. He had blown it as much as she had. Not once had he tried to talk it over, to devise some plan for making things better between them.
He had left it up to her to save herself.
And she had.
She was lying face down on the couch, her eyes turned up towards him. She tried to struggle to her feet, but he raised a foot and used it to push her back down onto her belly.
"Stay right where you are, cunt! I'm not finished with you yet!"
His contemptuous words aroused Heather's Irish temper. She struggled mightily to get up off the couch, but he pinned her to the cushions with his knee.
"Let me up off here, you bastard! Let me…"
Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. She realized what a defenseless position she was in. He was so much stronger than she was. And she suffered from the added indignity of being nearly naked.
Her lewd outfit-stockings, garter and shoes, made her feel vulnerable. She did not want to feel vulnerable right now. She had a fight to fight. And she wanted to put up the best defense possible.
"Let me go!"
Watching his wife struggling under him in her obscene costume was doing strange things to Tom. His experiences with Fay earlier in the evening had released his libido. And watching Heather's garter-streaked ass struggling for freedom was reviving his lust. Her ass-cheeks were so firm and round, wriggling provocatively beneath his knee. They seemed to beg for attention. For something long and thick and hard to satisfy their writhing quest.
"Shut up, bitch!"
All of a sudden, Tom found himself raining a hail of open-handed blows down on her buttocks. He watched fascinated as her quivering globes turned a bright-red. He knew his cock was getting harder by the minute. His overpowering rage was turning into relentless passion.
He wanted to fuck her!
"Oh, please, Tom! Don't hurt me! Stop it! Please!"
Heather squirmed desperately against her degrading punishment. But it was no use. She was held firmly. As her pussy wriggled against the couch beneath, the lusty redhead noticed a strange turnabout in her excitement. Her fear and frustration were changing into masochistic titilation.