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The Ritual(163)

Author:Shantel Tessier

She closes her eyes, swallowing, and does as I say. I pull her underwear to the side and grab the vibrator, slowly pulling it out. She whimpers at the loss of it.

Unable to stop myself, I bring it to my mouth and lick up the side of it, tasting that sweet honey I love. Then I drop it and get out. Going over to her door, I open it up for her and pull her out.

I then toss her over my shoulder, and she squeals. I slap her exposed ass and carry her across the parking lot so she doesn’t have to get her heels wet. The ground is covered in snow and water puddles.

Entering the side door, I drop her to her feet and press my body into hers up against the painted black wall. “Who are you?” I demand, my eyes roaming her pretty face. She’s still trying to catch her breath.

“Your good girl,” she answers softly.

“You’re goddamn right, you are.” I grip her face and kiss her, allowing her to taste what I just did in the car. She opens up for me, and I deepen the kiss before quickly pulling away. Then I’m pulling her down the stairs, entering the basement.

Tyson stands in the center of the room with his legs spread wide and a water hose in his hand while spraying down a chained Matt. “You gotta look your best for your company,” Ty tells him.

“Fuck you!” Matt shouts, spitting water out of his mouth.

He’s tied to a chair in the center of the room. Drains are placed throughout the concrete floor for these exact reasons.

“I see nothing has changed,” I announce our presence. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing. You know, before I gut you.”

Matt thrashes in the chair.

I had spoken to Tyson this morning before Blake ever woke up. I wanted to stop by and give Matt a little gift before I kill him. “But first … I wanted to come by and give you a little something.” Tyson and I both turn to look at my wife who leans against the far wall, her arms crossed over her chest and looking a little unsure as to why we’re here. “Remove your underwear.” I order.

Her wide eyes meet mine, and she swallows. But she only hesitates for a second before she uses the wall as support and pushes her thong down her still shaking legs. I walk over to her, and she hands them over, her cheeks red.

I turn back to Matt. “You wanted a taste.” It took some time, but that was all Blakely and I had in the hospital room. I got her to tell me every little second of detail that happened while he had her. “I thought I’d oblige. Consider it your last meal.” I shove her cum-covered underwear into his mouth. And then slap my hand over it while Tyson rips off some duct tape from the roll and places multiple pieces over his face when I remove my hand.

Matt’s body starts convulsing as if he’s fighting not to throw up and choke on his own vomit.

I grip his face and force him to look up at me. “I fucked that sweet cunt thirty minutes ago and came inside it.” I give him a chilling smile at the horror in his wide eyes. “In case you were wondering why they’re so wet.”

His face goes red with rage while he glares up at me.

I told my wife that no one would ever hear or watch me fuck her, and I meant every word. But I never promised that another man wouldn’t taste my cum out of her cunt, smeared on her underwear. It’s why I bit her neck and slapped her inner thigh in the car. I wanted to show her off to him. Show what I have that he’ll never get. No matter what he does. I needed to remind him that I fucking own him as much as he wishes he owned her. I could have come in a cup and forced him to swallow it, but this was sweeter. Thinking he was getting her but not without me—my wife and I are a team. A Lord and a Lady.

I slap the side of his face, making him flinch. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, I turn and grab Blake’s hand and exit the room with Tyson behind us. “When do you want him delivered?” he asks, after locking the door.

I look at my wife and see her cheeks flushed and eyes on the floor, knowing that I have some time to make up with her. “I’ll make it for Sunday night.” It’s Thursday, so that gives me the rest of the week and all weekend to spend at home alone with my wife, reminding her that she belongs to me. Till death do us part.

BLAKELY

SUNDAY NIGHT, I sit on the couch inside of the office at the cathedral. Ryat silently sits at the desk when a soft knock comes on the door.

“Come in,” Ryat calls out.

I look up from the couch to see Tyson enter. I don’t know why I expected him to be dressed in his cloak and mask, but he’s not. Instead, he wears a pair of black jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt. His dark hair just as unkept as usual. “He’s ready.”