Layla West

I do it because I knew I could never change who I am deep down, and I could never tell her about this rape kink that drives me. I love her, truly, in my own twisted way, and I want to keep this part of me alive, hidden inside our marriage like a secret fire.

When I first met her, I tried to change myself. I really did. I thought maybe with someone as sweet and caring as her, I could bury this urge, pretend to be the normal husband she deserved. But I couldn’t. The need built up inside me until it clawed its way out, demanding I act on it. Now, every night, I slip something into her drink, watch her eyes grow heavy as she drifts off to sleep.

Then I fuck her hard while she lies there still, her body limp under me. I fuck her stupid like that, pounding away until I cum inside her, and she never knows. That’s what gets me. Owning her completely without her consent, turning her into my personal fuck toy while she sleeps peacefully.

Normal sex is boring as hell.

We do it sometimes when she’s horny, her legs willingly spread for me. But it doesn’t feel the same. There’s no raw power in sliding my cock into her wet pussy when she’s begging for it. It’s bland, like eating the same meal every day.

Drugging her at night changes everything.

I plan it out, mix the sedative into her wine or her tea, sit there smiling at her across the table as she sips it down. By the time she’s in bed, knocked out, I’m rock hard. I strip her clothes off and ram into her. No foreplay, no gentleness, just forceful fucking until I empty my balls. It’s better than any vanilla bullshit, then she wakes up clueless the next morning.

There were times early on when I couldn’t hold back during our regular sex. I’d flip her over suddenly, pin her down, and fuck her rough, like I was raping her for real. I’d grab her wrists, slam my cock into her ass or her pussy, making her take it all. She fought back a little, and it scared her badly. She cried afterward, asked what was wrong with me, why I had to be so brutal. So I stopped.

Now I only ever fuck her gently when she’s awake, slow thrusts, soft kisses, gentle caresses to keep her happy. But I hate it. Vanilla sex is dead to me. It’s weak, it’s fake, it doesn’t feed the hunger. It’s like sipping water when you crave blood.

This kink, this need to rape, it’s who I am. I can’t switch it off.

It’s a different kind of release to own her body like it’s my property. I’m a gentle husband during the day, but at night, she’s mine to use. I love being cruel like that, unleashing my true self on her sleeping form.

Her body’s perfect. She has a porn-shaped figure I molded over the years with my touches. I treat her like a pocket pussy, a convenient warm hole for my cock to slide in, without a word from her. I enjoy the rape part so much because it’s complete domination. Mentally, I break her down without her knowing. She’s mine to drug, to fuck senseless, to fill with cum while her mind rests.

I get off on the secrecy, the risk, the way her body submits to me every time. I’ve done it hundreds of times now, and each one feels better than the last. I love how still she stays as I pound into her.

This is true power. I, the rapist husband, am getting away with it day after day.

I loved every second of slipping into her bed at night, knowing she was out because of what I gave her. I didn’t care how long it took to set up, either, because I savored the anticipation. I’d wait until she was deep asleep, then I’d climb on top, force her legs apart, and shove my cock inside her dry cunt. I loved the way her face stayed slack, no shock, no glaze of pain because she wasn’t awake to feel it.

But I pictured what her eyes would look like if she woke up mid-thrust. Perhaps wide with fear, pleading with me to stop. And it was all legal in my head, because she was my wife, my property. I think I damaged something in her over time, maybe her trust or her sense of safety, even if she couldn’t identify it. It was her spirit I was after, breaking it down piece by piece through these hidden rapes. I know I pushed it close a few times, when she twitched a little, and I had to freeze, cock buried deep, waiting for her to be still again.

And tonight, she’s mine again...

~~~

“You’re so damn sexy,” he moaned as his hand moved down from her neck to her nipples, tugging outward, stretching the sensitive bud while she remained utterly still. “I love your tiny body. I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time I saw you.”

Another moan escaped him, his hips bucking up to grind his cock harder. “You know why I rape bitches like you? Because it’s what you deserve, slut.”

He pinched her nipples and pulled them roughly. The rubbing between her thighs quickened, his cock throbbing as it dragged over her fat pussy lips again and again, and when his insatiable lust couldn’t be contained anymore, he pushed his cock into her pussy, impaling her.

She was impossibly narrow. He groaned, teeth gritted, and thrust harder, forcing the head inside, but the lack of lubrication made it a rough slide. A third thrust buried him deeper, stretching her wide, and by the fourth, he was all the way in.

“Open that pussy for daddy,” he snarled. “You like it when I fuck you like this? You’re a very good whore.”