A Little

Maxwell strides up to me as I back away from him. "No... stop this honey. Wake up, Max." I urge him. It was no use, he was firmly in the grips of this cruel perverted asshole Martin. I reach out to hold him back but he grabs my wrist, stopping me from backing away further. "No. Stop, don't do this!"

I begin pulling against him and trying to ward him away with my other hand. The more I resist the more forceful he becomes. He is so much bigger and stronger...I can't... In my desperation I finally reach up and slap my husband across his face. There is a stunned moment then he suddenly raises his hand, readying to back hand me! I gasp in fear as I see the open hand coming down.

"STOP!" Martin commands. Maxwell's hand stops just inches from my face. I tremble and look at the evil hypnotist. His powerful gaze is terrifying, he says in a low dangerous tone. "I suggest that you start cooperating, Bridget."

"Please stop this!" I beg him. "Don't make him do this."

He takes a seat and leans back as if settling in to watch his favorite show. All he says is. "Strip her Max."

My Max -- no, Martin's Max -- commences stripping me. I struggle a bit more but it was no use. I couldn't hold him off. He unbuttons my jacket, pulling it roughly from me. One arm, then the other. His hands are hard and uncaring. Different even than when we played a bit rough in the bedroom. He was treating me not like his wife and his lover but like an object. His eyes looking at me dispassionately, cold and distant. The gaze of an uncaring stranger. That cold look hurt most of all.

I speak softly to him, just loud enough for him to hear. "Stop this baby... wake up, Max, wake up... I love you Max." There was no response even as we looked at each other eye to eye. I feel a tear stream down my cheek.

I start to remind myself. This was my husband. I loved this man. Whatever Martin was going to make us do wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for my man if he asked me. I tried to keep this in mind. I tried to imagine this was just another intimate moment between us. As he began unbuttoning my blouse Martin's invasive voice interrupts my fantasy.

Martin was getting impatient. "Tear it from her."

Max grabs my expensive blouse in two fistfuls of cloth and wrenches his hands apart with all his great strength. I cry out as buttons fly and clatter along the wood floor, fabric tears and he grabs anew and tears again. He literally rips the shirt from my body and throws the shredded scraps to the side. I cry out once more as I am jostled roughly to and fro, the seams of the garment dragging across my flesh painfully as he finishes the job.

I instinctively bring my hands up to cover myself but Max swats them away. I was so utterly at his mercy. Max was usually such a gentleman that it was easy to forget just how much bigger and stronger he was. I realize now that he could have me anytime he wanted and I wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop him. It's then I feel it...a tingle...a buzz...a warmth down below. My mind was screaming in protest, but seeing and feeling my Max doing this to me had awoken my baser more primal instincts. His raw strength and control stirring something deep within me

'No...' I think to myself. 'I cannot be turned on by this!'