Chapter 3

“You don’t kiss me hello slut?” Alissa questioned sarcastically but it sounded more like an order. I turned leaning forward to kiss her lips but she pushed me back hard. Pointing down I knew where she wanted the kiss. I dropped to my knees opening her robe kissing her smooth pussy lips gently.

“Get your tongue in there slut,” Alissa ordered angerly.

Eagerly I obeyed, what was wrong with me, submitting just wanting it over, I licked parting her pussy lips tasting her sweet juices Alissa’s moans stirring a strange rage inside me. Alissa’s hands fond the back of my head gripping my hair roughly pushing my head into her I licked and sucked on her wet pussy. I wanted to please her so this would stop on my knees servicing Alissa’s kinky desires. Her juices covering my face, her hips bucking, her hands on the back of my head grinding her sweet pussy into my face, I strained my tongue to go deeper into her wet cunt, struggling to breath, her scent filling my nostrils.

Then suddenly I was being dragged across the floor by my hair, whimpering and crying from the pain, what was happening. “Lick my ass,” Alissa screamed, as she turned still holding a tight grip on my hair. I plunged my face between her ass cheeks. Her scent filling my nostrils, I probed her asshole with my long tongue, licking her brown star before poking into her bowels. Her asshole puckering around my tongue as it swallowed it, I reached up caressing her wet pussy, her moans and squeals filling the room.

“Look at my ass licking slut,” Alissa screamed with an evil hiss. Her screams and moans of pleasure so load her body shaking as I watched from my knees tongue in her ass an orgasm rocking her body.

What was wrong with me, submitting to her craziness my own pussy soaking wet longing to be touched. I fingered her wet pussy while working my tongue in her tight asshole. I felt Alissa tremble and shake, hearing her screaming in pleasure. Her control over me seemed complete after months of teasing of abuse I had excepted my role.

“Strip Slut!” Alissa ordered me in a stern voice.

Blindly I obeyed standing and removing my cloths as she watched. Vulnerable and naked I stood before Alissa awaiting instructions. What had happened to me I was graving her control over me.

Stockholm syndrome is a psychological condition that occurs when a victim of abuse identifies and attaches, or bonds, positively with their abuser. This syndrome was originally observed when hostages who were kidnapped not only bonded with their kidnappers, but also fell in love with them. Professionals have expanded the definition of Stockholm syndrome to include any relationship in which victims of abuse develop a strong, loyal attachment to the perpetrators of abuse.

That is one of the hardest things to except, “victim”, I don’t think of my self as a victim. I think of my self as a bright articulate highly educated, second in my law school graduating class, attorney. I stand up/fight for the victims so how/why did I become a victim of domestic violence and stay in the situation for two years? That question troubles me to this day and that is part of the journey that led me to write on Literotica.

“Hand me your panties,” another stern order sending shivers of anticipation through my body.

Sliding them off I handed them to her she took my wet panties to her nose.

“SOAKING WET! I knew it, you enjoy this,” Alissa laughed evilly like she owned my very soul a humiliating low moment for me.

“Open your mouth slut,” Alissa ordered her tone and manner exciting me in strange ways.

I obeyed opening my mouth as Alissa shoved my own wet panties in my mouth gagging me. Leading me to the bedroom, bending me over the bed, she walked to the closet across the room. Opening a draw and removing something my eyes grew wide at the sight of the large butt plug in her hand. Taking her time walking back to where I was bent over the bed, waving the large butt plug, it was so big, my eyes grew wide transfixed on it. Walking behind me I felt the first drizzle of lube on my tight ass as she smeared it around poking her fingers in and out of my tight ass roughly. I shivered in fear feeling the pressure of the large butt plug pushing on my tight asshole.

I begged and pleaded with her “Please Alissa not that it’s so big it will rip me apart.”

The pressure continued pressing into my tight asshole as it stretched puckering to accept the large intrusion. The pain was excruciating, inch by inch, she pushed the huge but plug into my tight ass as I felt my ass stretch and engulf it. Uncontrollable tears trickled down my face I felt so full with the large butt plug in my ass. Adjusting to the feeling as my anal nerves adjusted to the pain I was panting and crying as her fingers played with my wet pussy.

Working in and out of me aching pussy hard and deep words do not do justice to the tidal wave of pain and pleasure I was feeling bent over the bed ass full my sweet Alissa fingering my wet pussy roughly. Then her fingers were gone ‘Smack’ the sound echoing in the room as her hand came down hard on my ass. Pain and pleasure mixing together as the butt plug moved deep inside my tight ass. I was out of control shaking, trembling, crying as Alissa spanked my burning ass I felt ashamed for letting it happen.

When her fingers returned to my soaking wet pussy I exploded in a wild orgasm my muffled screams from a mouth filled with my own panties. So embarrassing a forced orgasm.

Chapter Eleven-Our Last Night Together

On that awful last night after she had pushed me and hit me she forced me dragging by my long red hair into the bedroom. Ripping off my work cloths she bent me over the bed and spanked me on my cute little ass with a leather belt. ‘Whack!’ ‘Whack!’ My little body shuttered with each blow my ass erupting in pain trembling with each strike of the belt. Tears running down my face begging, pleading for her to stop. Alissa pulled me off the bed by my long red hair forcing me to my knees before her. “Kiss my feet” I did has instructed kissing her cute feet softly, licking them with my long tongue, she laughed, an evil laugh. calling me a dirty little slut, whore, liar. “Lick my ass slut” I followed instructions my ass still hurting and red from the whipping I had received. What happened to the woman I fell in love with, worst yet what had happen to me to let her treat me this way.

I licked her dirty asshole which smelled unwashed, my nostrils full of her ass smell, she made me probe inside it with my long tongue, laughing loudly, reaching up I stroked her clit hoping an orgasm would stop all this. I had let Alissa control me, given up, something needed to change. After her orgasm shook her body she became a different person holding me softly, cuddling, but the abuse just ran through my brain this is not love I realized what friends had been telling me was true. I hardly slept anymore was scared all the time how did I let this happen to me.

Chapter Twelve-Surviving

How did I become a prisoner to someone else’s fears and jealousy in my own home? Gradually over time is the simple answer, it became normal to be berated and beaten followed by love and tenderness. I even came to grave Alissa’s cruelty, the humiliation and the pain for my own sexual gratification knowing it would be followed by loving tenderness but that’s not the interesting part of the story, the real story begins when I crawled up, found strength, survived, that’s when I found out who really loved me and who just loved the idea they had of me.

Alissa intermittent good/bad behavior that created strange trauma bonds between us. Stockholm syndrome is a form of trauma bond, where the victims “wait out” the bad behaviors for the “crumbs” of good behaviors bestowed on them. Alissa tried to isolated me from others. When people are in abusive systems, access to outside input and communication is limited, or even nonexistent. This way, only the perpetrators’ input is allowed, It is a form of “uber-propaganda,”.

I left while she still slept hurrying to my downtown office where my colleagues were waiting to help me file a police report and then to court for an emergency restraining order which was served to her later that day. I stayed in a hotel downtown that night to make sure she was out. Returning home to my apartment the next day after work. I was free but the recovery would be a long one, the abuse I had suffered, the guilt for letting it happen would linger with me. I am a survivor and would find comfort in others like me in the months and years to come through support groups and counseling.

I started playing music and singing again, I had some risky sexual adventures, trying to reclaim my inner strength. I still have trouble sleeping sometimes a form of PTSD. I started writing erotic stories late at night working out my strange feelings I hope you have enjoyed reading my stories as much as I enjoyed writing them while one handed typing in the darkness of the night. Many of my works take twist from romance, love, and fun to a shocking horror mirroring my life. Join me on a journey into the ancient primal dance of love, sex, playfulness, and fun. Exploring my body writhing in pleasure as my fingers explore and disappear inside my soaking wet pussy. My juices flowing, eyes transfixed on the computer screen pouring my heart out, waves of pleasure crashing over me. My fingers finding my breast pinching my delicate nipples caressing, squeezing, teasing, them. Bringing one of my breast to my mouth I tease with it flicking my long tongue over my erect nipple. Taking my time I let my fingers slide down slowly over my flat stomach through my soft red pubes to my waiting wet pussy.

Rubbing softly, caressing, making love to myself, letting my fingers play with with my clit. Inserting one then two fingers inside me slowly moving in and out my wetness growing. My juices making a slurping sound as my fingers thrust in then out. I am skilled at the art of fucking myself through years and years of practice. Tingling all over, legs spread and up, knees bent, typing away, writing on my journey of exploration. Moaning as my now wet fingers plunge into me. My body dancing with pleasure, a magnificent feeling, my scent filling the room. Rubbing my swollen clit the first waves of sheer pleasure encompass me.

The sounds coming out of my mouth sometimes surprises me giving my self orders or calling my self names. Something primal taking over, losing all rational control, life is not perfect and neither is my stories, they are dirty, unashamed, unedited, baring blemishes and all, bare. they are not a legal brief constructed so every word is perfect, every common in the right place, edited ten times. My tumbling out style of writing comes from emotion, desire, a longing, sexual desire, fun erotica, fantasy. My stories come spilling out of me full of lust, raw energy, with no filter, a friend confessing her fears, fantasies, desirers to you. I’m not looking for perfection in my writing, I’m simply purging my mind, looking for earth shattering orgasms. Life is short enjoy the ride.

I know my place in the world I’m a bright, articulate, well educated, highly paid woman but here I’m a writer and a slut. Plunging my fingers in hard, deep ready to cum.

My secrets revealed. Thank you for reading my stories, I hope you realize you are not alone if your suffering, there is life after Alissa. A good life but part of me will always love her and remember the good times fondly.

Thank you for reading my story If someone is in a similar situation I’m here to help, talk, you are not alone.

I’m Cheryle “Cheri” an Irish Catholic, Attorney, Singer-Songwriter thirty year old bi-sexual woman💋