A hot, relentless Atlanta summer sun beat down on the cultured stone and marble paving surrounding the azure depths of the pool. The lush greenery at the outskirts cast dense shadow, promising relief from the nearly triple digit temperatures, but Marissa wasn't interested. She was lying on one of the luxury padded chaise lounges, letting the golden god sear her already honey toned skin; her full, naked breasts felt hot and heavy under the sun's heat. A glass sat half empty on a short table, condensation dripping down the sides in rivulets. Marissa watched as the droplets merged into another cascade of water, then reached out and downed the rest of the pink concoction inside.

It had been nearly a month since that fateful Friday, when she'd given in to Benji. Four weeks of nearly daily whoring for him. Marissa tried not to think of all the depraved things he'd had her do. The memories embarrassed her; they humiliated her, yet at the same time, they made her ache unbearably for more. She was nearly always wet and ready for his intrusion. Almost every place inside her house held a multitude of hedonistic memories that threatened to bury her in an avalanche of need and guilt.

The first week, she had tried to pretend that nothing had happened the Friday before. Benji wouldn't allow it, though. He'd caught her at her car that Monday morning, as she had been trying to leave early. Marissa moaned quietly at the memory of him pushing her up against the side of her SUV, ripping her panties out from under her skirt, then shoving his throbbing cock balls deep into her in a single thrust. She'd screamed into his claiming mouth as he'd fucked her viciously, his hands holding her legs wide for his advances. Her body had betrayed her, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she'd come in great waves of drowning pleasure.

The next three days, he'd punished her by not letting her come. It had been torture, having him tease her to the edge of orgasm, only to be denied over and over. The result was she was perpetually excited, aroused, ready for his next game. He used her toys on her, tying her to a chair and making her take them in her pussy, her ass, or just strapping the vibrator to her clit and fucking her mouth until she was begging to come. The memories were ruthless. Her pussy throbbed with need.

When he'd finally let her come, she'd cried in great, gasping, heaving sobs of relief. It was those moments of complete release that brought out Benji's caring side. He'd held her, stroking her hair and whispering kindness into her ear while she fell apart in his arms. She'd fallen asleep like that, and when she'd awakened, he'd been back to his usual ruthless self.

Their Fridays had been particularly strenuous. He wouldn't let up on the sexual play, making her feel like nothing more than a being of aching need all day. Benji would fuck her like a man possessed, pushing orgasm after orgasm on her overstimulated body until she nearly passed out from the pleasure. Then, he'd always remind her to be a good wife for Patrick during the weekend.

Marissa felt bile rise in her throat at that. Between Benji during the week and Patrick on the weekends, she felt like she'd been nothing but a receptacle for sex for weeks. Logically, she realized she was trying to make up her gross infidelity to Patrick by being entirely available to him sexually. They'd always had a healthy, if monotonous, sex life, but lately she found herself offering him more opportunities to screw. It wasn't keeping the guilt at bay, though, and Patrick had begun asking questions.

The second week, Benji had latched a thin, black leather choker around her neck and told her to keep it on, even when Patrick was in the house. Marissa had balked at that, but Benji had made it a condition of their continuing association. So she had, because despite the agonizing guilt, she was addicted to the sexual high he gave her. The thing was simple and plain, no more than a thin, cylindrical leather braid with clasps at the ends. Patrick had noticed, though, and he'd asked about it. Marissa had played it off as a new necklace, and while he'd eyed her strangely, he'd let it go.

Sunshine glinted off the surface of the crystalline pool as Marissa reached into the cooler under the table for the nearly half gone carafe of vodka cranberry cocktail. She refilled her glass, then stowed the larger container before taking a deep draft of the strong mixture. Sighing deeply, she rolled over onto her stomach, pillowing her cheek onto her arms. Closing her eyes, her traitorous mind played scenes from that second week.

Benji had switched to the next largest butt plug. He'd been making her wear the same size plug every day the week before, always toying with it while he plundered her perpetually needy cunt. She had finally begun feeling comfortable with the toy stuffing her the way it did, only to have him switch it up for the largest one in the set. She remembered how it had felt, the wide cone stretching her to huge proportions before popping into her, making her feel almost uncomfortably full.

That week, she'd had some of the most powerful orgasms of her life. Benji had driven her to animalistic depths, as he'd tortured her with ever increasing pleasure. He'd made her kneel and fuck her suction cupped dildo while holding the plug in her ass and deep throating his cock. She'd come with all holes filled, pleasure pulsing through her in waves.

Another time, he'd filled her pussy with her largest dildo and her ass with the plug, then he'd pressed her magic wand to her clit and made her come innumerable times. She'd been crying for him to stop while still orgasming, then, when he'd pulled the vibrator away, she'd begged him to put it back.

That was around the time she'd started drinking. Her conscience had grown unbearable, the guilt settling with more weight on her every night. She'd started with a drink before Patrick came home most evenings. Quickly, she'd graduated to two, then a third and fourth after dinner. She tried to keep the drinking from Patrick, and mostly succeeded. It was absurdly easy to lie to him, to go behind his back. Marissa had begun to hate herself for it, but her body craved what Benji was giving it. She was entirely addicted.

The third week, the kids had come home from camp. Things had gone back to some form of normal for her, but she'd been irritable. While she'd been happy to see the kids, deep down, her inner hedonist had resented the interruption of her sex play with Benji. It had been a difficult week, trying to hide her displeasure behind bright, sunny smiles, while downing more and more liquor to drown her guilt. She'd argued with Patrick most nights over the stupidest things.

This past weekend, they'd all piled into the car for a week long trip to Patrick's mom's house, about three and a half hours south of Atlanta. The kids had stayed with their grandmother at the end of the week, while Patrick and Marissa had returned home for another two weeks kid free. It had been a long, tense ride back. Marissa itched for what Benji could give her, and Patrick's attempts at the romantic only irritated her more.

Now it was Monday and Marissa was already mostly drunk at 11AM. She hadn't seen Benji in two weeks and it was slowly killing her. She'd stopped taking her morning runs when Benji had started fucking her regularly, and the urge to start again just wasn't there. She sighed, shifting restlessly. Her pussy felt swollen and wet, but empty. She wanted to feel Benji holding her down and shunting his big, thick cock into her. Marissa sneaked a hand down the chaise and beneath her hips, tucking into her tiny, royal blue bikini bottoms to lightly play with her pierced clit.

The slight pressure felt so good, and in her alcoholic haze, Marissa didn't care that she was outside, mostly naked and masturbating. Her fingers stroked and teased, tugged and dipped between her folds, spreading her growing wetness and feeding her arousal. She moaned, imagining Benji's fingers instead of her own. Her hips curled and her back arched, seeking more than just the insufficient girth of her digits. His name was a curse on her lips as she spread her legs wide and angled her ass up, her fingers fucking deeply into her wanton cunt. She needed him, God, how she needed him.

Marissa felt the chaise dip behind her, and she gasped. It may have been entirely insane, but she didn't care who it was behind her. She just needed to be fucked hard and deep. A rough hand gripped her bikini bottoms and ripped them off; the tearing sounded like a needle scratching over a vinyl record. She whimpered and begged incoherently as her fingers were unceremoniously removed from her pussy before the swift, stinging spank stung her dripping folds. She cried out in pain and pleasure, her entire body going taut.

Harsh breathing accentuated Benji's words when he said, “What have I told you about this pussy, Mrs. Weiss?” He spanked her snatch again, harder, and she jumped and whined. “This is mine, and you don't get to play with it unless you ask, slut.”

Marissa was shaking, breathing in short, quick gasps. He was there, and all she wanted was his cock filling her. She was so close to coming. All it would take is one deep thrust and she'd go right over the edge.

“Oh fucking hell, Benji, please! Fuck me, please!” she begged, her hips bucking, seeking his hard, ready shaft. “I need it so bad!”

She felt his big hand encompass her right cheek, then his thumb stroked along the crack of her ass, pressing against her tight pucker.

“Where's your plug?”

Marissa whined and said, “I haven't been wearing it.” She shifted against his hand, trying to get more contact, keenly aware of his fingers teasing along the length of her dripping slit.

Benji made a tsking sound and said, “Bad slut. I told you to wear it every day.” He unceremoniously spit on her anus, then resumed working his thumb into the tight ring of muscle. Marissa groaned when two fingers slipped into her gushing cunt and scooped out copious amounts of her nectar, only to have it smeared on her ass hole.

His fingers took turns sinking into her sphincter. First his thumb, then an index and a middle. He was working her open, increasing the girth of his intrusion steadily, until Marissa felt him hook both thumbs into her and stretch her open. She cried out, her ass pressing back toward him, needing to feel fuller than he was providing. Marissa heard and felt him spit once and then again, and she moaned as he worked the lubricant along and into her loosened pucker.

“I think it's time for me to claim this ass,” said Benji, and Marissa sighed a high pitched whine. She was so fucking ready to be filled, anywhere he wanted to fill her. Her pussy drooled juices down her thighs, and she gripped the chaise tightly to keep from reaching back and stroking her needy clit. Then, she felt him place his thick, engorged cock at her entrance and she begged.

“Please, oh please, oh please...” she cried, her hips gyrating madly to have him. Benji groaned and hissed as he pushed himself into her pussy, filling her to the hilt. Marissa cursed freely, her entire body going electric at the feeling of being impaled by him. His thumbs were still in her ass, tugging and teasing her as he slowly fucked her squelching cunt.

“Tell me you missed me. That you missed this.” He growled it, his free hand gripping her hip tightly, fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust in slow, deep revolutions.

Marissa cried out, her eyes squeezing shut at the intense pleasure. “I did! Oh fuck, I missed you. I can't... I need you. This. Fucking fuck, Benji, please!” Her voice trembled, and she felt tears prick at her eyes. They filled and overflowed, and Marissa didn't care that she was openly crying her pleasure for anyone to hear. She couldn't do without this glorious sensation that Benji brought her. She couldn't give it up, and suddenly she didn't want to.

Benji moaned and cursed, then pulled out of her snatch, making Marissa whine to be filled again. She raised her head and looked over her shoulder at him, tear streaked cheeks and all, and watched his slack mouthed pleasure as he stroked himself a couple of times, entirely coated in her juices. She called his name and wiggled her ass at him, and he looked back at her. His eyes were pools of lust that dragged Marissa under, and she held her breath as he placed his spongy tip at her lubed and ready hole.

“Ready for this big cock in that ass?” he said, as he slowly painted her reactive sphincter with the tip of his cock. Marissa took a deep breath, her eyes still trained on him, and she nodded. He grinned slowly, then his lips formed a distracted oh, as he pressed forward.

Marissa felt him slide past her slightly resistant ring with his first thrust, and the sensation was immense. His grunt of pleasure stoked her own, and she angled herself up for him, opening further for his invasion. His next thrust took him nearly half way in, and Marissa let out a whooshing breath. She felt full, like she had with the plug, but the feeling was so much denser, warmer.

Benji's hand stroked her hip and ass, and he asked breathlessly, “Oh, you like that, slut?”

Marissa responded by purring her pleasure and pressing back against him. That got her a growl and he thrust again, nearly impaling himself entirely. He felt so huge in her ass, but the training with the plug had made it so that Marissa felt only waves of pleasure battering her body. With one last push, Benji was entirely entrenched. He stilled for a moment, his hands gripping her hips as he breathed and grunted his control.

“Benji...” whispered Marissa, her cheek pressed to the chaise. She slowly began rubbing and rocking herself against him, feeling his cock throb and move inside her. Benji cursed and began to thrust in rhythm with her slow rocking.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “I want you delirious. I want to hear you beg to come.”

Marissa obliged, her fingers swiftly finding her puffy pussy lips and slowly strumming across her entire cunt, from clit to slit. She strayed for a moment past her slit, and felt with her pads as the length of his cock left and entered her ass. It was absurdly erotic, entirely decadent, and it made her pleasure spike. Shaking fingers returned to her pussy and she teased her stiff clit as Benji penetrated and retreated, only to do it all over again.

“Oh fuck, Benji... fuck, that feels... so good,” she gasped, as Benji slowly picked up speed. He was grunting with every thrust now, his fingers becoming flesh and bone vices on her hips. There would be bruises, but she was far from caring. Every onslaught brought greater waves of sizzling, burning, crackling pleasure that pulsed out to the farthest points of her extremities. It was beyond anything else she'd ever felt, her excitement reaching extreme heights.

Marissa felt Benji lean into her, his hand coming to cage the back of her neck while the other settled down on the chaise by her face. She watched his corded forearm bulge, felt his fingers grip and squeeze her nape as he panted and moaned with every long, hard thrust. She felt euphoric, so powerful, bringing him this much pleasure, taking as much in return.

Benji shuddered against her and stopped moving, then grated out, “Oh holy fucking hell. You feel so good. So tight, hot. Marissa...” he whispered her name, and she felt the peak arrive in a flash of blinding light. “Marissa, come on my big fucking dick!”

He cried out, a trembling, grunting, heaving sound as he resumed his thrusts in a frenzy. Marissa heard him distantly, her entire self engulfed in the all consuming wave of ecstasy he'd brought upon her. His cock felt harder, bigger, then there were pulses within her contracting sphincter. She went momentarily blind, feeling his cock kick and throb with his own orgasm inside her, filling up her tight ass with his seed. The entire event lasted for a moment, or forever. Marissa was reduced to the most basic of things, nothing but sensation, emotion and quivering, shuddering response.

When she came out of her pleasure haze, she moaned. Benji was breathing hard, his hands cupping her hips as his cock pulsed lightly within her. She could feel him going soft slowly, sliding out of her in short bits. Her legs gave out, and she slid down to the chaise; Benji's cock slid out entirely, leaving behind an odd, empty feeling. She lay there, panting softly, watching the sun glint off the water surface. The tears came again, slowly filling and spilling out of her eyes and soaking into the surface of the chaise.

Marissa felt the chaise dip and Benji's hot breath bathed her cheek when he said, “All that training with the plug really paid off. You're definitely an anal cock slut now, Mrs. Weiss.” He slapped her right ass cheek and Marissa winced. “You know what they say. Practice makes perfect. I'm gonna enjoy taking that ass again and again. I'll see you tomorrow, slut. Oh, and no more coming today.” Then, before Marissa could think of something to say, he was gone.

She lay there, her entire body still buzzing from the unbelievably crude fuck she had just gotten, unable to do more than breathe and let the tears come. Her thoughts whirled like angry bees, filling her mind with so much recrimination and guilt that before she knew it, she was curled in a fetal ball, holding herself tightly as loud, wet, wracking sobs shook her from head to toe. Marissa felt entirely broken.

* * *

Up in the second floor office, Patrick shook with dark, quiet rage. The fingers holding open the plantation shutters he'd been looking through trembled with his barely contained anger at what he'd just witnessed. Marissa, his Marissa, had just been thoroughly sodomized by that Riley boy.

By all accounts, she'd really enjoyed it, too, except for now she was clearly curled up on the chaise sobbing. He didn't know what to make of it all, except that it made him angry beyond belief.

There was something else, though. Something that embarrassed him and made him vaguely ill. He was hard as stone. His hand was delivering slow, rough strokes to his pulsing member, still contained within his suddenly too tight slacks. He was breathing hard and he could feel the urge to growl, gnash his teeth and reestablish his ownership of Marissa. That thought confused him. He'd never felt that way about her or their relationship. She had always been his equal in all things within their marriage. Now, though, he wanted nothing more than to throw her down and fuck her relentlessly. Reclaim her.

Then there was the urge to break every bone in Benji's body. Patrick's hands closed into tight fists as he imagined doing unmentionable things to that smug, pretty faced jackass. Years of martial arts training, two black belts and a carefully honed body would let him do amazing damage. His medical knowledge meant that he knew just how to make the body hurt the most, and even though he'd taken an oath to do no harm, he'd make an exception for that cocky bastard. Oh yes, he'd definitely enjoy watching him bleed.

Right at that moment, Patrick began hatching his plan for revenge. First, he needed to know exactly how bad Marissa's infidelity was. It was important to know if she was just in it for the sex or if she'd fallen in love with that little turd – God forbid. Even though he'd just watched her let another man thoroughly fuck her ass, he still loved her. He wanted to try and save their marriage, if it was possible. Giving himself one last, rough stroke, he picked up his cell and made the first of many calls.

* * *

The rest of the week held nothing but debauched, uninhibited sex for Marissa. Benji pushed her to her limits every single day, in every way she could imagine, and a few she never had. On Tuesday, he'd shown up with a new, much larger dildo with a suction cup attachment. Its size and girth had made Marissa very nervous. The rest of that day, he'd taught her what it really meant to be an ass slut. At one point, she'd had her hands tied behind her back with a rope leading from the ties to a thick collar around her neck, and she'd been kneeling in the bathroom, enthusiastically fucking her loosened, lubed ass onto the new plastic cock. Every downward motion buried the thing nearly entirely in her. She screamed her pleasure through unending orgasms, as Benji relentlessly held her magic wand to her drooling cunt and called her the filthiest of names.

On Wednesday, he'd demanded she wear nothing at all and then spent the entire day outside, letting him fuck her anywhere and any way he wanted. She lost track of where she knelt, lied, leaned, crouched, and the number of times he covered her or filled her with his cum. He also forbade her from coming, but edged her relentlessly. Marissa was a mess when he left, but he'd said she could go make herself come, so she'd taken a long, hot shower and used nearly every toy she had to elicit a whopping six orgasms in a row. She ended up exhausted, with an orgasm hangover headache and a vague feeling of emptiness. There was little satisfaction.

Thursday and Friday were more of the same. More fucking, more sucking, more coming. She couldn't seem to get enough. It helped her conscience that she hadn't seen much of Patrick. He'd been staying at work unusually long hours, actually spending the night at the hospital two nights. The other two nights that week, he'd arrived so late and left so early the following day that she'd barely gotten to say hello or kiss him goodbye. It was strange, but Marissa hadn't asked too many questions. She was well and truly hooked on the sexual high she'd been experiencing, a high that had been becoming more and more elusive.

Friday afternoon, Benji had her tied to the back deck, splayed out like a sacrifice, while he toyed with her. He'd clipped nipple clamps to her breasts, then attached another chain and stretched it down to her crotch, where he'd clipped it to her clit piercing. Marissa whimpered and cried out as he plucked the chain, then moaned in pleasure as he slowly fucked into her with his bare, thick cock.

He released the chain, then pinched her distended little clit and shoved into her deeply; Marissa cried out in near orgasm.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Benji! I'm gonna come, fuck, I can't hold it!” She panted and gyrated as her pussy trembled and convulsed involuntarily around his dick.

He grunted and pinched harder, making the pain increase until it was all she felt. It gave the pleasure a sharp, searing edge, but rather than pushing her over the edge, it cleared the pleasure haze and she was able to hold on to the edge. She'd been holding her breath and digging her fingernails into her palms through the pain.

He grated out, “No you're not, slut. Not until I say.” He pulled out of her and thrust in again, making her jump and gasp, her pussy flooding around him but holding on. She could tell it turned him on immensely to keep her on that edge, to control her like that.

Benji groaned and shut his eyes, his jaw tightening as he gripped her hips. “Oh yeah, I'm gonna fill this sloppy cunt. Take my cum, Mrs. Weiss. Take it all. Fuck!” Then he pounded into her, fast, relentlessly, and Marissa bit her lip until it bled, as she watched and felt him come inside her. She held onto the edge, her pussy throbbing with the nearly overwhelming need. Her mind, though, was entirely in control, floating on the euphoric high of making him come so well.

Then Benji growled, “Fuck yeah, now, Marissa. Milk that big cock with your pussy. Come for me, gorgeous slut!” It was what Marissa had waited for, and her entire body went rigid with release. She went blind and cried out, arms and legs straining at their bonds as she convulsed around him, his enthusiastic thrusts taking her higher. Within seconds of reaching the peak, she vaulted to another higher one, and she screamed again. Marissa trembled uncontrollably as she came, her entire consciousness focusing on the indescribable pleasure of this moment. She wished it would never end, but of course, it would. It always did.

She noticed the rough planks at her back first, how they dug into her abraded skin. Her arms were numb, her wrists sore. Benji was slumped over her hips, hands gripping her waist as his dick slowly softened in her leaking pussy. Marissa took in his beautiful form, his breath expanding wide pecs in a slowing rhythm. She felt him stir and looked up to find his eyes studying her.

“What?” she said, shifting uncomfortably.

He gave her a half grin and said, “Maybe I should leave you here just like this for Patrick to find you.” His words had the effect of a bucket of ice water. Leaning in, he whispered, “I bet he'd love to see his good wife spread out, leaking cum, like the slut she really is.”

Marissa felt the familiar shame creeping into her, dousing her desire. Suddenly, she not only felt loathing for what she was doing, but anger as well. She curled her hands into tight fists and stared Benji in the eyes. For the first time, she saw the cruelty and uncaring disregard reflected and nothing more.

Quietly, but with unbending steel in her voice, she said, “Untie me, Benji. Now.”

His expression changed only slightly, a little smirk turning his face into something not quite so pleasant to look at. Then he was untying her. Marissa shoved him away and finished removing the rope at her ankles, wincing at the broken skin beneath. She felt sore, used, entirely satisfied bodily, yet emotionally empty. Marissa looked back at Benji and realized something.

“We're done,” she said, clear as day.

Benji chuckled and said, “You don't mean that.” He moved as if to tug at the chain still attached to her nipples and clit, but Marissa was quicker and moved away.

“No, Benji,” she said firmly. “We're done. This is done. I'm glad you finished the work on the landscape already, because that means you have no reason to return here.”

Marissa stood, the chains jingling and tugging at her in distracting ways. Benji stood, too, and she saw in him the dark desire to take what he wanted anyway. He was already hardening again, getting off on her refusal.

“We both know you want it, Mrs. Weiss,” he said, crudely gripping his thickening cock and stroking himself while she watched. He was right, the uncommon beauty of his body, combined with his dominant streak was like a flame to her suicidal moth. She felt the familiar stirrings, the painful pulsing in her nipples arousing her further. This time, though, it wasn't enough.

She looked him up and down, then said, “No. This is over.” Benji's eyes grew hard, jaw tightening as he stopped stroking himself.

“Put your clothes on and leave, Benji,” said Marissa. “We'll mail you the remainder of your fee, plus twenty percent for expenses and any extra... trouble.” She was proud of the way she said that, like she was paying him for the sex. He didn't like it, though. He took one step towards her, and Marissa thought it was really very brave of her to not take a step back. She remembered the thin necklace he'd giver her, reached up and tugged it until the clasp broke. Marissa dropped it on the deck between them.

Benji looked down at the discarded symbol of his hold on her, then turned to find his clothes in a heap not far away. He dressed economically, threw one last fulminating look her way, and stalked off the deck and around the house. Moments later, Marissa heard the rev of his truck and the crunch of gravel. He was gone, and once again, she felt strong.

* * *

That Friday evening, Patrick sat at his desk in the plush office at the hospital. For the last two hours, he'd been compiling clips he'd gathered over the week, making Marissa a home video reel she was sure never to forget. His key strokes and mouse clicks were quick and angry, the way they'd been all week long, and his breathing was choppy and quick throughout the editing chore. It didn't help matters that the material he was working on gave him raging hard ons. He was an angry, turned on, aggressive mess by the time he was done.

Closing and securing the movie on his thumb drive, he then decided it was time to do something about the fucking bone in his pants. He clicked through to his favorite porn video site and found something suitably vicious. It was a BDSM video in which a woman was tied and gagged, and she was being whipped across her ass with a thick leather strap. Patrick stroked his cock and watched the girl writhe with every strike, her face a mixture of pain and pleasure unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Periodically, the camera would focus on her pussy, showing how very wet she was throughout the flogging.

When the spanking was done, the man handling her pulled her head up by her hair, disengaged the gag and roughly thrust himself in her mouth. Patrick groaned and stroked faster as the guy throat fucked the girl forcefully. It was something else he'd never experienced, but he hoped to remedy that situation over the next few days. His dick grew immeasurably harder at the thought of doing that to Marissa. All of it. He closed his eyes, listening to the gurgling, gagging noises from the video but imagining himself and Marissa instead of the couple on the video. Tugging on his cock, Patrick pictured roughly fucking his wife in a million different ways, until he was satisfied that she was his again. Only his.

Balls aching for release, Patrick stroked, squeezed and rubbed himself until it was impossible to hold out any longer. With a grunt, he grabbed the handkerchief he'd placed nearby and spilled himself into it, the tremors shaking him just as the girl on the screen came hard and long on her dominant's thrusting cock. The sounds drew a few more spirited ejaculations from his kicking rod, and then he was still, watching as the play session continued on the screen.

Not for the first time, Patrick wondered if he'd be able to do that to Marissa when the time came. He'd never considered that kind of play with her, but seeing the things she was enjoying from that fucker Riley, he was willing to let his inner demons out. Patrick had spent the week doing research, trying to understand why it was that Marissa had felt the need to go outside of their marriage to be sexually fulfilled.

At first, he hadn't understood, because their sex life was healthy. They weren't distant with each other. Hell, they had fucked nearly nightly all summer long. Then it occurred to him that the difference must be in the quality of the interaction beyond the sex. So he looked it up and learned all about what it meant to be a sexual submissive, as well as what it meant to be a dominant. Suddenly it all made sense. What he'd witnessed was in fact a submissive woman giving herself to a dominant man, Marissa to that fucking little turd, Benji.

Patrick recognized that he hadn't ever been that dominant in the bedroom, not the way Marissa seemed to crave. Now that he'd seen her submit to another man, though, he wanted it. She was his wife, dammit. He was going to take her back. The activity he'd witnessed earlier that afternoon in one of the hidden cameras he'd spread around the house gave him hope, even as the jealousy stuck in his chest.

The porn video had finished by the time Patrick turned his thoughts away from his wife and the plans he was making. He tucked himself back into his slacks, momentarily sated. He spent the next hour making sure all preparations were made.

It was past one in the morning when he let himself into the dark, quiet house. Patrick stood in the foyer and listened, hearing nothing but the whirring of the air conditioner. He paced slowly through the rooms, seeing different hedonistic scenes play out in nearly every space. He was reasonably sure there weren't too many rooms that had been spared from their adultery.

Silently, Patrick padded up to the second floor and into their bedroom. Marissa was tucked under the covers, breathing in easy sleep. He quickly and quietly prepared for bed, then got in on his side and stayed as far away from her as he could. Right now, she still wasn't his. It repulsed him to consider touching her the way he used to, tenderly, lovingly. He needed to punish her for what she'd done, and he'd researched that, too. With a satisfied smile, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

* * *

Saturday morning, Marissa awoke clear and determined. It was early, and she moved quietly to avoid waking Patrick, who snored quietly on his side of the bed. She sneaked into the bath, then the closet, emerging quickly dressed in running clothes. It had been weeks since she'd run, and she was feeling the itch to pound the pavement.

The air was refreshingly cool, unseasonable for late July, but Marissa would take it. She hit the ground running, feeling the extra exertion of not maintaining her routine with every panting breath and hilly step. At the corner to Benji's parents' street, she turned in and set a punishing pace. Her ear buds blasted an Irish punk song with a quick beat as she pushed herself fast up the hill. Once at the peak, she didn't stop to look at the house, didn't want to see if there was a red truck parked in the driveway. Instead, she flew by and felt almost instantly free.

The run invigorated her. It filled her with hope and a feeling of buoyancy she hadn't had since the beginning of the summer. At the house again, she paced to cool down, then stretched in the quickly warming morning air before going back inside. In the kitchen, Patrick leaned against the counter, a coffee cup in his hand as he browsed the morning news on his tablet. It struck Marissa then just how very sexy her husband was. He lounged in his morning robe, its sides left untied, so that his lightly muscled chest peeked out at her.

Marissa stood longer than she meant to, studying him. She suddenly found him staring at her, a strange expression on his face.

“I'm sorry, what?” she said.

Patrick stared back for a moment. “I said, did you have a good run?”

Marissa blushed. “Yeah, thanks. It was cooler than I thought it would be.” She walked up to him and intended to kiss his lips, but at the last minute, he turned away and she caught his cheek. With a slight frown, she looked up at him.

Patrick covered his lips and said, “Coffee breath.” He set the tablet down and cleared his throat, then continued, “I have a surprise for you.”

Marissa felt oddly nervous. She remembered the last time he'd said that to her, when Benji had started working on the landscape. She smiled wanly at him and said, “Oh? What's that?”

“We're going on a trip,” he said. “I've taken the entire week off, and I want to spend it with you. Just you.” The way he said the last two words both excited and worried Marissa. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about the way Patrick was acting was off.

She smiled. “That's great! Where are we going? The beach?”

He shook his head and said, “It's a surprise.” Then, he came up to her and leaned in, his hand cupping her ass as he said, “Go pack, but don't overdo it. You're not going to need too many clothes.” Marissa was stunned by his forward behavior, his innuendo, so much so that she yelped when he gave her ass cheek a solid, stinging smack. She watched him wide eyed as he practically sauntered out of the kitchen.

“What the fuck...” she said under her breath. Undoubtedly, she was excited. It was strange and refreshing, but also a little preoccupying. She stood for another moment, then quickly went through the business of coffee and breakfast, so she could go get ready for their trip.