The Naked Beauty: Weeping Beauty - Sex Stories

The Naked Beauty: Weeping Beauty

THE NAKED BEAUTY Chapter 1—Weeping Beauty Brandon clinched Mila to himself with barbarity. She pursued means to break free from his malice. He steeled his hands on her back, sweeping his unruly lips on hers, and then breathing out pensively. She was his bondservant; his wife; the truth was he looked upon her as his wretched slave instead of an attractive, decent woman. “Brandon, let go off me!” she shrieked out through clenched teeth. Tears impotently slid out of her eyes, drenching her smooth-shaven cheeks. Pale as ash and velvety as silk, her skin was healthy; beautiful what’s more. Brandon seized her throat this time and knocked her against the wall. He went on to tilt himself on her. His hands toyed with her spread-out hair, hauling it maliciously. As he worked this out, Mila yowled louder. Her shrieks were to no relief. No one was within reach to set her free from the tyrant of a man she had wed. “Listen to me carefully, you broke bitch,” he roared at her, dragging her face near his so she could stare back at him willy-nilly. “Take off your clothes at once. I am starved of sex. I need it seriously.” Mila threw out saliva into his face. She had infuriated him with that. Like lightning, his mood swiftly changed. He thrust her away and then tossed a solid blow into her face. The punch had her stagger backwards up till she had hit her head on the frame of their bed and tripped down to the floor. Brandon was not through with her—it appeared. He wrenched his right foot, clad ...

... in a thigh boot, and battered twice into her abdomen. In agony, she sighed out, her mouth slumping open; for a flash second, everything around her switched black. In anguish Mila cracked her eyes open. Her vision was at first foggy. Something reverberated inside her head. She feared it would splinter into four. The element underneath her was rocklike and freezing. That surely had to be the floor. Her legs were knotted with an impenetrable material which she fathomed to be a slice of rope. Brandon. This was the first thought to transpire into her mind. He was the felon to blame for all this. “Brandon?” Mila babbled. She drew her face upwards. He was straightened up, monitoring her movements. His hands were enfolded across his chest; his eyes were tightened, well-nigh shut. The instant she begun snaking from him on the floor where she was sprawled, he wandered after her and wound himself downwards to say softly: “I could have forced you on myself if I wished to. I shall not carry that out regardless. I am not a stupid jerk who assaults his wife. You are married to me, Mila. It is your obligation to consign me what I exactly crave. Now, I am going to tutor you a never-to-be-forgotten lesson. Try withholding from me my conjugal rights next time and you will learn what else I am capable of doing.” “Mila, are you alright?” Claire interrogated inside their mini but delicately graced office. She was thirty-six years old, ten years older than Mila. Her eyes were an intense black; her ...