Wicked Games: An Erotica Novella

Eight Months Ago

“Bitch what did you say to me?’

I groaned. My husband’s already deep baritone had become deeper. I recognized it as his I’m about to fuck you up tone. I started praying that I could defuse the situation enough to keep the night from going from bad to worse.

I lowered my voice but didn’t dare even thinking about changing a word of what I had said. I knew better, Malcom hated when I “lied” to him.

‘I said it’s not that serious, Baby. I only spoke to him because he said something to me first, I’m sorry.’

I tried to sound as meek as possible while walking towards the stairs. I wanted to get as far away from him and as quick as possible as I could, while hoping he would do something out of character for him, like let go. The argument we were having was petty.

We’d left the New Year’s party we’d been invited to early, but still he’d bitched and moaned the whole thirty-minute ride back home simply because I said Hello to an old high school friend. I didn’t even get a chance to ask the man I hadn’t seen in forever how him and his wife were doing before Malcolm suggested we leave.

I guess I should at least be grateful that he didn’t embarrass me. He hadn’t ever been above showing his ass in public.

I heard his shoes hitting the hardwood floor seconds before he was on me. I realized my mistake immediately.

“Fuck!” I scolded myself mentally. The first rule in my book of what not to do to piss Malcolm off was ‘never turn my back on him ,’ he found it disrespectful. But hell, there wasn’t much that Malcolm didn’t find disrespectful.

Before I could react he grabbed a hand full of my long hair, stopping me in my tracks, I swung around to face him. Thankfully my hair slipped between his fingers. I took a second to examine his scowling face. Malcolm was gorgeous, with clear reddish skin, full lips, a broad nose, and hazel eyes. But his good looks didn’t make up for the fact that he was evil as fuck and had a hole in his heart that I couldn’t seem to fill no matter what I did

‘Look at what you’ve got on! Of course, he wanted to talk to you. You look like a fucking whore.”

Reaching out, he grabbed a hand full of my breast roughly, squeezing. I winced from the pain and tears came to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Before, my tears seemed to always spur him on.

You brought this dress for me I thought you liked thi—“ his hold tightened on my breast, his nails digging into my flesh, the intense pain caused me to cut off the rest of what I was going to say. But I didn’t try to move his hand or fight back, that would make him angrier. I don’t even know why I tried to explain anything to him while he was in one of his moods, from experience I knew all it would do was make him angrier.

“I know I bought the fucking dress. I buy all your clothes. you lazy bitch. You don’t have a job, who else is supposed to buy them? and I bought this dress for your fat ass when you were a size ten not fourteen, look at all your fucking titties hanging out.”

“I’m sorry Malcolm, please let me go..” I begged. I was so scared because I knew what was coming next.

“You should have thought about that before you ran your fucking mouth.’ He let go of my breast, took a hold of my dress, and snatched downward, trying to rip it from my body.

“Why are you doing this, are you crazy? Please stop!” I pleaded but didn’t make any effort to stop him, I knew if I put my hands on him it would escalate to him beating me for trying to fight him, it had happened before.

“Yeah bitch, I’m crazy, you make me crazy. I tell your ass time and time again, that you’re mine. Don’t be smiling in the next mother fuckers face, I don’t care what the fuck he says.

He jerked me forward.

“You thought you were going leave with that pretty mother fucker, didn’t you? You wanted to fuck him? I could see that shit in your eyes.” He shook me while he kept ranting, yelling. He tugged roughly at my dress, trying to pull off me, but the lined material wasn’t tearing and each yank caused the expensive, silk fabric to tear into skin on my shoulders.

‘Please, Malcolm! I would never cheat on you.’

I was being honest when I said I wouldn’t. I Was too afraid to, even though he constantly cheated on me. He was so blatant and callous about it I had walked in on him fucking someone in my very own home after returning from the hospital, after one of his beatings. I would never mention it because I knew he would someone make it my fault and beat me for where he put his dick.

I could never understand how a man who couldn’t stay faithful was so jealous and insecure. In his mind if I even looked at another man I had betrayed our vows..

‘Bitch, if given a chance all you whores will cheat he yelled in my face.

My ears to rang. He finally let me go shoving me roughly away from him. I stumbled but didn’t fall. When he started pacing around the room and talking to himself I nearly pissed myself. intuition was telling I would probably receive the worse beaten he’d ever given me that night.

Trembling, I slid my eyes back to the front door wondering if I made a run for it would I make it outside and to a neighbor’s house before he caught me. I took a deep breath and readied myself to run, my heart pounded against my ribcage, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The voice that had been telling me for years to leave him was yelling for me to run, but my feet wouldn’t cooperate.

“Bitch, if you don’t stop looking at the fucking door I’m going to put your head through it. Ain’t nobody coming in this bitch to save your whore ass. Or did you tell lover boy where we stay? “

His eyes grew wide at the idea, and they darted between me and the door.

I frantically shook my head no.

He headed for the window anyway. His long legs crossed the room in seconds.

I groaned inwardly. His paranoia confirmed my worst fear, he was high on coke, or Molly. Drugs made him paranoid and mean, meaner than usual. He didn’t even know that I knew about his little habit. I’d been fucking floored when I found out by mistake. I used his car to go run an errand, I don’t even remember why I went into his glove compartment, but there had been enough drugs in there to get me put up under the prison if I’d gotten pulled over. I knew he wasn’t selling it, he made too much money as a trust fund manager for that. He had to be using it, it explained his sudden mood swings. One minute he was up and excited. sometimes he’d be sweet and then he’d turn violent. I drove his car home, parked it, and never used it again. That didn’t stop me from finding his stashes all over the house.

“No baby, I wouldn’t do that,” I said when I found my voice. I backed up further away from him, slowly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed. His eyes hardened. “Where the fuck are you going, Tempest?” I didn’t answer him, not verbally. I couldn’t.

My heart was in the back of my throat. I shook my head and kept backing up.

“Answer me bitch.” he roared, startling me so badly I nearly pissed myself.

I looked over to my right for a weapon, I needed something to defend myself. The look in his eyes confirmed that he was about to beat my ass. He’d attacked me enough times for me to know when he was about to snap.

The only thing within reaching distance was a lamp. A lamp too small to do any damage, it would just piss him off, fuck it!

I turned on a dime. One foot in front of the other, I    took off running towards the bathroom. If I could get there and lock myself in, I could call the police from my cell. Luckily my cell phone was still in my hand.

“Bitch! Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You’re thinking about leaving me aren’t you?”

Just as I made it to the bathroom, I flew backwards. He’d  grabbed me by my arm and slung me like a rag doll. I thought I would hit the floor hard, but he snatched me up before I did. Midair, his forearm wrapped around my neck  placing me into a choke hold. Instantly, it felt like I was going to pass out.

Panicked , I tried to pry his arms from around my neck. When it  became hard for me to breath and fight. I gave up, letting my arms fall to my side. A feeling of calm washed over me. If I just let him kill me, he couldn’t abuse me anymore. I was so tired of him beatings and the constant berating. The only way out for me was death I reasoned. He’d told me enough times he’d kill me before he let me leave and embarrass him, so leaving alive wasn’t an option in my mind.

It sounds cliché, but my life started flashing before my eyes as I was about to black out. Oddly enough this renewed my will to fight. I hadn’t lived long enough to die yet.

“Please.” Sobbing, I scratched at his hands.

“Shut up with all that crying.” Pain exploded in my side, air whooshed out of my lungs, his fist had connected with my abdomen, and if the wasn’t brutal enough, he reared back again, his fist connecting with my ribs, over and over again,. My knee’s began to buckle. He released. I tumbled to the floor on to my ass.

“You make me do this.” Sweat dripped  from his trembling upper lip.

He bent down, drew back his fist and punched me in the face like I was some random man on the street instead of the woman he claimed to love. His eyes were glassy and he was literally salivating at the mouth.

He lectured me as he continued to beat me.

“If only you would just act right, act like a wife is supposed to, instead of some disobedient whore, you’re a fucking whore aren’t you?” I could tell it wasn’t a question but an accusation. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to kiss my ass. He was the one fucking everybody. I’d lost count of all the women he’d fucked during our marriage, some I found out about because they’d confront me, others he told me about whenever he felt the need to humiliate me.

Why the fuck did you stay? a voice in the back of my mind screamed. I’d stayed because I felt obligated. He saved me and my sister. I stayed because I thought I couldn’t do any better. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would have laughed at how stupid my last though was. Couldn’t do any better? Anything was better than hoping my husband didn’t kill me.

I decided right then and there I was going to survive long enough to get the fuck away from Malcolm’s crazy ass so I could experience better and work out my issues with myself. I was leaving and it wouldn’t be in a body bag.

I balled myself up tightly so that I could protect my head and face from his blows and regain strength. That seemed to piss him off more. In the position I was in he couldn’t hit me in my face. His sadistic ass liked to see my pretty face bruised and bloodied.

He wrapped my hair in his fist, dragged me up from the floor by it. I gasped and choked on my own saliva. The pain was so intense it felt like it would rip my hair from my scalp. I knew I’d have a bald spot when he finished.

He dragged me to the kitchen table and bent me over it. When he ripped my thong from my body. I said fuck it and started fighting him for real and hard as I could. Somehow I maneuvered myself so we were face to face. Malcolm had raped me before while he was angry and high. It had been the worse sexual experience of my life. It had felt like he was going to literally rip me open. I couldn’t go through that again.

“No, no please!” I yelled, kicking my legs and swinging my arms wildly. I connected a couple times with his face and legs.

“You bitch!”   His eyes got big with rage. He stared at me for a second as if he didn’t believe it was me who hit him. I used his shock to my advantage. I cocked back my fist and hit him again, directly in the mouth. His head jerked back. I hit him again, my fist connecting with his nose. Then I turned to run. I was quick. I made it all the way to the front door. He was quicker. He grabbed me before I could open it. My last thought before darkness took over was that was the last day I took any abuse. Everybody who had or would cross me would pay.