Michelle

MICHELLE

...I can't believe he just left like that.

Just when you thought he couldn't be a bigger asshole. No. He just managed to make himself even worse.

He just came out of the bedroom, stinking of ...sex... and almost ran out of the apartment.

He barely glanced at me.

I had so many things I had been planning to say to him.

Most of them were laced with cursewords.

Infinitely articulate cursewords. Words I rarely if ever had spoken in my life before. Words I wouldn't say to my worst enemies. Words that, if said out loud, would require me to contact my local priest and beg for forgiveness. And most of all...

Words that would cut him... right to the soul.

And I knew the right words for that. I knew his weaknesses, what made him tick, and everything that made him the worthless piece of shit he was.

I could have reduced him to a crying sack of blubber. Right in front of my feet.

I also considered just bypassing that and just slapping him a few times, then kicking him violently in the balls and spitting on him as he laid there, groaning in pain on the floor.

Because...

Why else would I still be here?

If not to do that?

To hear him having... that... animalistic sex with that... that... big-titted Gretchen-lookalike whore?

Because she had to be some kind of paid prostitute. THAT WAS NOT THE REAL GRETCHEN. She was so insanely out of Jack's league, that she probably forgot he even existed. No, that fucked-up, masochistic whore was definitely somebody else.

But how could she know that conversat-

No. It had to be a trick. It was the only thing that made sense. Jack had somehow overheard that conversation years ago.

Or somebody told him.

That WHORE could not be Gretchen.

No.

Which meant that I didn't stay around to hear him fuck... Gretchen...

I stayed around to hear him fuck some whore.

...

Did that... make it better?

No! I didn't stay around to hear any of that!

I DIDN'T STAY AROUND TO HEAR any of the squeaks, moans, slaps, growls, squelchy noises, walls slammed or most insanely erotic screeching I had never heard, not even in the cheapest porn available.

I stayed around... so I could shout in his face and slap the life out of him.

And kick his balls so hard he would end up with four.

But...

Then he...

He burst out of that bedroom so suddenly...

And...

When he glanced at me...

I just froze.

Like I was doing more and more these days. Around him.

I had no reason why. Why I was holding back.

And just when I was starting to get my courage back... he was already out of the door.

Why couldn't I speak up like I normally did?

Did I have some... fucked up, left-over feelings for him?

That's what I suspected for a while... After all the strange things that have happened in the recent weeks, and this weird guilt I feel about cheating on him... But... after I searched my heart thoroughly... I was kinda certain now. I felt zero love for him anymore.

Honestly, I probably never did.

I married him only because I wanted to convince myself I was straight.

There was room in my heart for only one person now.

Maddy.

Then why?

Why did I freeze up like that?

It's not... Like I could be scared of him?

...

Well, then again, I guess I had a reason to be scared of him. The way he had somehow just made me... orgasm, like that... and the way he made even Janice... Oh God, that was definitely the creepiest moment of my life, seeing my sister like that... and... and the way he made me wear this fucking outfit, t-the way he loudly fucked that Gretchen-looking whore...

But... It's not like he could...

I mean, I wasn't afraid he was going to grab me and u-use me, just... I don't know, he had this...

Presence...

He was never a violent person... Although... All those sounds in the bedroom... It did sound insanely... physical...

But why was I even guessing about his intentions? He made it super clear. Right to my face.

He wanted to humiliate the fuck out of me. All weekend.

And I was just going to... take it?

I should have slapped him right there.

I mean, sure, I was guilty over cheating on him... And that's probably the reason my orgasms were acting so weird...

But... Was that enough of a reason to subject myself to all of this bullshit?

...

And, seriously, when did I start suddenly feeling guilty about that? My life story was beautiful, I was trapped in a loveless hetero romance until I majestically dared to come out of the closet, with the help of a loving female friend who showed me... the true meaning of love. It was the kind of story that should be praised in this culture, not be ashamed of.

I mean sure, he probably felt a little left out, and she was his friend first... but at least he was a part of my beautiful coming-out-of-the-closet journey, right?

...

Fuck. I really didn't want to think about this from his point of view.

But... lately... it's like I couldn't stop.

Okay. I felt guilty.

That was partly why I was still here.

But...

There has to be a limit.

And... Why, after all this **** degradation...

Was I still cleaning?

Even now?

...and... then?

I wonder what he thought...

When he glanced over to me...

Did he find it weird...

That I was still scrubbing his floor?

I mean... I had to find something to do... while he took forever to finish up with that...

whore...

Those never-ending bangs, moans, screams... and for God's sake, that disgustingly debasing, dirty language...

F-fuck his pathetic apartment... and the thin walls that carried every single, vomit-reducing... word... to my ears.

How much extra did he have to pay for that?

...

No.

There was more to that glance.

He didn't just watch me clean.

I could tell it from that arrogant smirk on his face...

The one he couldn't shake even as he exited the apartment.

...He looked at all of me.

...

It was...

A bad idea... to scrub... during... all of that..

For some very odd reason...

My body had been heating up like crazy... today...

First, I suspected that this crappy place just had bad air conditioning... And I opened all the windows and turned on his one, crappy, fan... But it didn't help.

The heat was coming from me.

And it wouldn't stop.

All the... weird, nasty, dirty images... that just kept popping in my brain...

My mind kept drifting away, almost every single minute, to Maddy... poor Maddy... not knowing where I really was... I had told her I was visiting my mom this weekend... But...

The more I cleaned, the more my thoughts kept drifting back to her body...

That lean physique... Her submissive smile... Her cherry kisses... The way her naked, freckled body would sometimes glisten in the summer sun... The way her nipples felt against mine...

And then, as the day progressed, my thoughts became more dirtier and nastier... Imagining that drunken afterparty... the first time we tribbed, the way her cheeks reddened as she rubbed her clit against mine.... and that time when I bought that huge dildo and her surprised reaction as she opened the gift box...

And her even more bewildered reaction as I... held the tomboyish girl in my arms, making her moan like a cat in heat with its sheer length and thickness, forcing her to sprinkle her sweet juices all over it as I ran it in and out of her...

In and out of her...

Like she would do to me next...

In and out of me...

The more I cleaned... Jack's dirty laundry, scrubbed Jack's dirty stains, and picked up Jack's dirty garbage... The dirtier the images would get.

Until my brains were showing me nothing but non-stop lesbian porn.

If only it stopped there.

At one point, when I was hanging an old shirt I had once given him for his birthday... my thoughts turned.

To him.

The biggest asshole in the world.

First thinking about how he would reward my work with a nice kiss, I caught myself and nearly threw up right there.

What was wrong with me? I mean, the images in my head were definitely getting dirtier... But somehow that was the most disgusting thing I had imagined all day.

I tried my best to return my thoughts to Maddy... But it was futile.

And while scrubbing his floors... It was almost like I had a running daydream... or should I call it a nightmare?

Me, wet and sweaty from all this work, my pussy glistening as brightly as my hark-worked body... and he just appears behind me...

And sticks his unusually large member... inside me.

I barely notice the tip at first, because I'm so well-lubricated... But then his massive presence just looms all over as that whole... log... just reaches right up to my uterus.

And he just takes me.

Like he just... owns me.

And I can't do nothing to stop him, as I lay there helplessly... as he takes all of me.

...

Over and over and over again...

Oh God...

And for whatever reason...

It was getting me hot.

It was the most straight I had ever been.

And there could be only one reason for it.

My thoughts were so filled with dirty, degrading porn and cleaning his apartment, that... the two just somehow combined.

And the dirtier my thoughts were... the hotter I got. And for me... there couldn't be a more sick and twisted thought then actually wanting to... have sex... with him.

...

But...

He kept fucking that whore for so long...

...that I must've blacked out at some point.

The next thing I remember...

Is him coming out of that bedroom...

And seeing me...

...all splayed out...

...in front of all my cleaning supplies...

With my other hand...

down my dress.

...

I just froze in place.

It took several seconds for me to remember what I was supposed to even say to him.

And even longer to realize I was supposed to...

...pull my hand out of there.

...

And what was I supposed to do then?

Slap him with the same hand that I had just frigged my pussy with?

But it was too late anyway.

...He was out so fast. With that arrogant fucking smirk.

...

I wasn't stupid.

There was clearly something wrong with my brains.

And... And...

All of this day... had been just so endlessly embarrassing. I think...

I think the power balance between me and Jack... had... irrevocably switched.

What could I possibly say to him after that?

He saw me fingering myself while he was fucking another woman!!

...

N-no, I wasn't fingering, my hand was just around that area, and...

It was the weather. And this apartment. It was unbearably hot. My body couldn't handle it. I had some kind of hormone imbalance.

And-

...

All of a sudden...

I froze again.

She was there.

The Gretchen-looking prostitute was now standing there.

In the living room.

In front of my face.

Wearing nothing but that collar.

And...

And...

So many red bruises, and handmarks all over her, tits... throat...

But mainly...

I just focused...

...On all the white, sticky-looking...

...blotches of sperm....

All those blotches... splattered all over that painfully gorgeous, pornographic body...

Between her fingers, hanging from her chin, in her short hair...

That...

"Look, Michelle, I'm s-sorry that... well, for the mess... But... Jack told me that you were cleaning anyway... so..."

With that, my eyesight traveled down.

All the way to her... groins...

And the cum...

That was still...

dripping out of her...

p-pussy...

right onto the... floor...

and...

there was...

even a clear trail...

from the bedroom...

to...

here...

...

When I looked back up...

She was gone.

And I heard the shower running.

...

How long had I remained frozen like this?

And...

Wait...

Did...

DID HE EXPECT ME TO CLEAN THIS UP?!