The Raw Throat of Forbidden Ecstasy
Beneath the neon haze of a rain-slicked Vegas strip, where fortunes flipped like cheap poker chips, Marcus nursed a whiskey in the shadowed corner of the Eclipse Lounge. The air hung thick with cigar smoke and the faint tang of desperation, slot machines chiming their hollow promises nearby. He’d flown in for the convention, his wife Lena trailing like a shadow—supposedly supportive, but her eyes had darted too freely toward the high-rollers. Tonight, suspicion gnawed deeper than before.
🔥 He watched her now, across the bar, laughing a touch too loud at some slick-talking salesman named Rico. Her blonde waves cascaded over a crimson dress that clung like sin, curves straining the fabric. Marcus’s grip tightened on the glass. The raw pulse of betrayal throbbed in his veins, hot and insistent. But beneath it? Something darker stirred—a hunger to reclaim her, body and soul.
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Whispers in the Penthouse Glow
The elevator hummed upward, depositing them into the opulent penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering Strip below, a chaotic symphony of lights pulsing like a heartbeat. Lena kicked off her heels, the soft thud echoing off marble floors scented with vanilla candles and the faint musk of her perfume—jasmine laced with something illicit.
“You were cozy with that guy,” Marcus growled, voice low as he shrugged off his jacket. His broad shoulders flexed under a crisp white shirt, dark stubble shadowing his jaw. At 42, he was built like weathered oak—construction magnate turned entrepreneur, hands callused from years of raw labor before the deals rolled in.
Lena spun, eyes flashing defiance mixed with guilt. Twenty-eight, voluptuous with full hips and breasts that begged for hands rougher than silk, she’d always craved the edge. “Jealous, babe? It was nothing.” But her cheeks flushed, nipples pebbling against the thin dress as his stare pinned her.
He stepped closer, towering. The air crackled. “Prove it.” His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back. She gasped, lips parting, the sound wet and needy. Taste of whiskey on his tongue as he claimed her mouth—brutal, teeth nipping until copper bloomed. She melted against him, thighs clenching.
They stumbled to the king bed, sheets cool Egyptian cotton whispering under her as he stripped her bare. Her skin glowed pale in the city glow, freckles dusting her cleavage. Marcus’s cock strained his slacks, thick and veined from the fight. He shoved her thighs apart, inhaling her slick arousal—salty-sweet, intoxicating.
“Beg,” he commanded, fingers circling her swollen clit without mercy.
“Please… fuck me raw,” she whimpered, hips bucking. The word hung between them, charged.
Chapter 2: Shadows of the Betrayal Unveiled
Flashback clawed in Marcus’s mind mid-thrust. Two nights prior, in this same suite, he’d pretended sleep. The door clicked soft, Lena slipping out in lingerie that barely qualified. Hours later, she returned, reeking of cologne not his, thighs sticky. He’d feigned ignorance then, but rage simmered into plan.
Now, he slammed into her heat, her walls clenching greedy around his length. “You fucked him, didn’t you?” Each word punctuated by hips grinding deep. She cried out, nails raking his back, drawing red trails that stung like fire.
“No—ahh—yes, but it was nothing!” Lies spilled from her drooling lips. Sweat beaded on her throat, pulse fluttering wild. The room filled with slap of flesh, her moans rising to screams tasting of salt as tears welled.
He pulled out abruptly, leaving her gaping, pussy glistening obscenely. “Liar.” Phone in hand, he dialed Jax—his oldest friend, ex-military enforcer turned private security. Six-foot-four of tattooed muscle, Jax lived for control. “Get here. Now.”
Lena’s eyes widened, confusion twisting to fear-laced lust. “What… Marcus?” But her fingers dipped between her legs, circling frantically. The betrayal’s raw edge sharpened every sensation, her body betraying her guilt.
Jax arrived in twenty minutes, black leather jacket hugging his frame, eyes like chipped obsidian. The door barely shut before he assessed: Lena splayed, chest heaving, Marcus’s cock jutting angry and slick.
“She cheated,” Marcus said simply. Jax nodded, shedding his jacket. The air thickened with testosterone and her whimpers.
Chapter 3: The Rope’s Cruel Embrace 💋
In the suite’s lounge area, velvet ropes from the BDSM kit Marcus had packed—his secret vice—now served true purpose. Jax bound Lena’s wrists behind her, coarse fibers biting pale skin. She knelt on Persian rug, knees grinding plush fibers, the city’s hum vibrating through glass walls.
“Piedad,” she pleaded in broken Spanish learned from Marcus’s travels—mercy—but her cunt dripped audibly onto the floor. Jax chuckled, deep rumble like thunder. At 38, bald-headed and scarred, he exuded dominance raw and unfiltered.
Marcus lit a cigar, smoke curling acrid around them. “For every thrust you gave him, you choke.” He nodded to Jax, who looped hemp rope—thick, natural twist smelling of earth and age—around her slender neck.
Slowly, Jax pulled. Lena’s eyes bulged, face reddening as air starved. Her chest heaved frantic, tits jiggling with each futile gasp. Drool bubbled at her lips, slick strand dangling to cleavage. The raw constriction ignited her core; hips humped air desperately.
“Feel it,” Marcus murmured, stroking his hardness. “That’s for Rico’s cock in your cheating hole.” Jax tugged sharper, her body convulsing—thighs quaking, piss trickling golden down legs in shameful release. She squirted then, clear arcs splashing rug, scent musky and sharp.
They released just as vision spotted black. Lena collapsed forward, coughing wet hacks, but her hand dove between legs, fisting fingers into her spasming pussy. “More… god, the raw burn…”
Jax hauled her up by rope, forcing kneel straight. Marcus knelt before, feeding her his cock—gagging her on thickness until throat bulged. Jax tightened again behind, dual assault. Her gurgles vibrated him exquisitely, tears streaming salty rivers down cheeks.
Chapter 4: Fists of Reckoning and Ruin
Boundaries shattered like cheap glass. Jax’s massive hand—knuckles scarred from bar fights—probed her sopping entrance. Lena writhed between them, Marcus face-fucking relentlessly, balls slapping chin wetly.
“Open for punishment,” Jax growled. Lube slicked his wrist, then knuckles breached her folds. Inch by agonizing inch, her pussy stretched obscene around fist, lips puffing white-hot. She screamed around Marcus’s shaft, vibrations milking pre-cum salty down throat.
The stretch burned raw, nerves screaming overload. Inner walls gripped like vice, every ridge of his knuckles dragging friction divine. Jax twisted, punching deeper until forearm vanished halfway, her belly distending visibly. “Take it, slut. This for every lie.”
Lena’s world narrowed to fist churning her guts, rope nipping neck sporadically. Orgasms ripped chain-lightning—one, two, endless—juices gushing fist-out squelches echoing lewd. Taste of cum flooded as Marcus erupted, thick ropes painting esophagus, overflowing nostrils.
He withdrew, strings connecting lips to tip. She hacked cum-foam, begging, “Ass… fist my ass raw.” Jax obliged, flipping her. Rope yanked her cheeks skyward, exposing puckered rosebud winking desperate.
No mercy. Fist invaded rectum slow, burn lancing white-hot. Her sphincter yielded, stretched ring gaping void when withdrawn briefly. Marcus watched, stroking back rigid, the raw vulnerability bonding them anew—punishment forging twisted love.
Hours blurred. Double fisting alternated, her holes ruined loose and weeping. Exhaustion trembled limbs, but pleasure’s afterglow hummed deep, vulnerability cracking shells.
Chapter 5: Depths of Depraved Communion
Dawn crept, painting suite gold. Lena draped over Jax’s lap, body marked—rope burns purple blooms on neck, bruises mottling thighs. Cum crusted skin, air heavy with sex-stink: sweat, jizz, squirt mingled pungent.
Marcus traced welts, tenderness replacing fury. “Why?” Voice cracked, emotion raw.
She met his gaze, eyes bruised soul-deep. “Needed the edge. Like you give… but wilder.” Confession hung, then lips met soft—contrast to night’s savagery. 💋 Jax watched, hand gentle on her ass now, circling wrecked hole tenderly.
They coupled slow then, Marcus sliding into pussy still loose from fists, sensations muted yet profound. Jax took her mouth, lazy thrusts. Rope dangled loose nearby, symbol shifted—tool of ecstasy, not pure torment.
Climaxes built languid, waves crashing tender. She quivered between, whispering filth laced gratitude. “Your raw claim… mine forever.”
Post-bliss, they bathed her in clawfoot tub—steamy water scented eucalyptus, hands soaping bruises with care. Vulnerability peaked; tears mixed suds as truths spilled. Lena admitted three affairs, each thrill chasing void only Marcus ignited truly. Forgiveness bloomed not easy, but earned in flesh’s forge.
Chapter 6: Echoes of the Raw Eternal Bond
Morning checkout loomed, but they lingered. Jax joined fully now—threesome evolving ritual. In shower’s cascade, hot spray pounding tattooed skin, Lena knelt anew. Ropes absent; trust sufficed.
Marcus’s hand circled throat gentle firm, squeezing pulse-sync. Jax mirrored rear, fingers probing ass revived. Water sluiced bodies, steam veiling gasps. Her peak shattered spectacular—body convulsing, urine mixing shower drain golden rivulets.
Dried and dressed, they descended elevator, changed utterly. Lena clung Marcus’s arm, Jax flanking protective. Vegas faded behind, but raw hunger lingered—promise of home rituals, godfather invoked often.
In airport lounge later, fingers intertwined under table, she murmured, “That raw choke… reshaped me.” He smiled dark. “Good. You’re ours.”
The plane taxied, lifting toward futures entwined in extremity’s embrace. Betrayal’s scar tissue strengthened, pleasure’s raw vein pulsing eternal.
Words lingered unspoken: some hungers healed only in near-death’s ecstasy, bonds forged unbreakably taboo. 🔥
