Punish her

You tighten your hand around her throat, just enough to make her feel the control, and drive into her again with full force. The thick head of your cock smashes against her cervix. Natasha’s eyes water. A choked sound leaves her.

You slap her across the face, open-handed, hard enough to turn her head on the pillow.

“Slut,” you say, voice low and rough. “You’ve been freezing me out for six months while you let someone else fuck you. Say it. Tell me the whole thing.”

You resume the punishing rhythm, hips slamming forward, the full 8.5 inches burying itself to the root with every wet, brutal stroke. Natasha’s soft body jolts under the impact. Full breasts bounce. Soft stomach yields. The hand at her throat keeps her pinned and focused while the slap still stings on her cheek.

The words start coming out of her in broken fragments between the thrusts.

“It’s Paul from work. It started at the Christmas do… started with drinks… then his car… then hotels… I kept saying no to you because I was already letting him have me… the dates… the baby… it’s his… I didn’t know how to stop… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

Every admission is punctuated by another deep, powerful stroke that forces the air from her lungs. You keep calling her a slut between the impacts, keep the hand firm at her throat, keep fucking her with the full weight of the anger and the betrayal while she spills the rest of the truth in gasping, broken pieces beneath you. The wet sound of her cunt taking the thick length fills the bedroom, messy and relentless, while the whole story finally comes out of her under the force of it.