To Murder Matt

by Viveca Benoir

  “All right.” He understood her better than she realised, and he spoke softly. “Come back soon Ellie.”

  “I will. Seeing you again today Dean, just reminds me, more than ever, of the enormity of my mistake. It’s you I am in love with, Dean. Not Matt. I know this now.” She turned and fled the room.

  All the way to London, she thought about Matt and Dean and about their differences. She had just made a complete fool of herself. He had seen her at her worst. She had cried in his arms, been full of self-pity, and to make matters worse, she had made a pass at him. If all that wasn’t enough, she had told him she loved him. She had had to leave before he told her he was involved with that Priscilla woman. She couldn’t bear to hear him tell her that. Just the name of the woman grated on her nerves. If he had come back to her with a holier than thou attitude and told her she was a married woman now, it would have killed her, but him being nice was just as bad.

  Ellen put the key in the lock of her home. She had had such an emotionally tiring day. She had made a real mess of her life. She opened the door, picked up the mail and went through to the living room. She sat down and put her feet up on the table and leant back and rested her head on the back of the sofa. She lay there thinking about the events of the day.

  “Have a nice day, dear?” Ellen jumped in shock at the sound of his voice from behind her. “My, aren’t we guilty?” His arms were folded across his chest.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here remember? Did I nearly catch you out?” he sneered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Had a nice day out with your boyfriend?”

  “Pardon?” She flushed.

  “There was a message from him in the answer machine about ten minutes ago. I guess you were supposed to hear it first.”

  “What message?”

  “So you don’t deny it?”

  “Of course I deny it. What message?”

  “Listen for yourself.”

  Ellen got up and went over and pressed play on the answer machine. Dean’s voice was quiet.

  “Hello Ellie, I’m coming up to London next week, fancy another coffee? Call me.” Ellen felt relief flood her veins.

  “That’s an innocent message from a long time family friend. Why would that upset you? We have only been married a few weeks. I would hardly start an affair now would I? And most certainly not with a family friend.”

  “Me think the lady doth protest a little too much.”

  “Oh this is ridiculous. Just because we got married doesn’t mean I won’t still see my friends.”

  Matt crossed the room at lightening speed and slapped her hard. He held her face close to his and glared at her.

  “If you ever think of having an affair with anyone, I will kill you.” He let go of her suddenly and she brought her hand up to cradle the stinging of her cheek. She felt the tears start to prick at her eyes. She was determined not to cry and yet she felt like a scolded child.

  “You hit me again and I will leave you.”

  “Really? You think you can get to the door before I break both of your legs?”

  He grabbed her arm and brought her to him easily. She felt his fingers digging into her flesh and through to the bone. “How far can you get on broken legs?”

  “You hurt me and I’ll...” Ellen stopped speaking. She didn’t know what else to say and the pain in her arm was increasing the more he held on to her and tightened his grip. She had no way of getting back at him. She was in a lose-lose situation with him. She would have to leave him when his guard was down. Luckily all her money was still in her own bank account, as they hadn’t opened joint accounts yet, even though he had tried to coerce her before the wedding. She hadn’t had time before, but now she simply didn’t trust him. She shivered at the thought of him having access to her money.

  Matt cast her aside, and she ended up sitting bewildered in the armchair. He had her just where he wanted her, submissive and obedient. Yes, the world was good to Matt Mellor, and it was getting better, by the day. The only thing he needed now, was to get his little sister back where she belonged, and life would be sweeter still. Matt towered over Ellen in the chair and she stared at him angrily.

  “You think you can intimidate me, you little man? You bloody small minded wimp.”

  “You’ll learn soon enough.” He reached forward, put his hand around her neck and squeezed. He put his face close to hers and watched the emotions changing in her eyes, from defiance to fear, to desperation, to fear again and finally to panic as she realised she couldn’t breathe at all. As terror filled her now bulging eyes, and her throat started to gurgle, Matt realised it had given him a raging hard on. Without releasing the pressure on her neck, he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his erect member. With one hand he ripped open her blouse, pulled up her bra, pulled up her skirt, tore off her panties and thrust his penis into her, just as she passed out, and went limp. Releasing her throat, he held onto the back of the chair, and used it so he could ram himself deep inside her.

  He fucked her, harder and harder, until he could feel the tip of his cock member stretching and tearing her insides, and still, he pushed further and further, and deeper inside. Gone was the restraint he normally had for a woman who couldn’t take his full size.

  Ellen started to wake up and her eyes fluttered open. He smiled at her and continued thrusting. Realising what was happening she started to struggle against him. He loved a woman that struggled; it fuelled his desire, inflamed his passions and set him on fire.

  “You bastard, I hate you.” She spat out her words in disgust, and tried to fight him off.

  “Yes good.”

  “Get off me.” She struggled harder.

  “Keep going. Speak to me whore, slut, bitch.”

  “I hate you, HATE you,” she shouted.

  “Oh yes! Hate me.” Matt came loudly and grunted as he stopped his thrusting. His balls emptied fully into her, strong spurts of hot semen filling her torn and bleeding cervix.

  He withdrew and stood up before her, his jutting penis, proud and bloody. She just laid their gasping, her throat swollen and still red from where his hands had choked her.

  “You fucking bastard,” she said, with no regard for the consequences.

  He turned to walk away, but not before she leapt forward, and grabbed his balls with all her might and twisted, turned, and squeezed with all her strength. He roared with pain and grabbed her hair, yanked her head back and slapped her with his other hand.

  He bent over, exhaling in pain, not once letting go of her hair to keep her at arms length. He retched, as the nausea filled his body and he vomited on her, the gastric juices splattering over her, and his saliva trailing from his mouth in long strands.

  She looked at him in hate and triumph. She almost felt vindicated and revelled in the pain she had caused him. He dragged her vomit-covered body by her hair into the kitchen, where he took out some frozen peas from the upright freezer and placed them on his balls. Seeing the triumphant look in her eyes, he punched her on the head and knocked her out first punch but he didn’t stop there. He hit her head, again and again, until he felt calmer.

  When she woke up, she was tied spread-eagled naked to a bed. She pulled against the cords holding her fast. The more she pulled, the tighter they got. She pulled at them, until she could bear the pain no longer.

  “Awake?” She stopped struggling and lifted her head slightly to look at him in the doorway. He had a cigarette in his hand. He inhaled deeply, and breathed out very slowly. “Got a party later on. You might like to join us.” He walked away and she strained to hear his footsteps. Her head was throbbing, her eyes were almost swollen shut and her lips were bleeding. She had never felt so bad in her life. She didn’t know whether to cry, or not. She struggled to free herself, but had no success and in the end, she lay there panting. She was desperately frightened and did not know what he was going to do. She felt vulnerable, afraid and helpless, her nakedness adding to her
fear. She had no idea what he had planned but she knew she would not enjoy it.

  She started to whimper and the tears started to fall from the corners of her eyes, salty painful tears that mixed with her blood, then rolled down to the bed. This awful man was her husband. He was supposed to love and cherish her, and yet this was all like a never-ending nightmare. It couldn’t be real. She just had to wake up; it had to be a bad dream. She pulled at the cords again, and felt them rub, and cut into her skin.

  It felt like a few hours had passed but in reality she had no idea how long it really was. She had lost all sense of time in her fear. Noises were coming from her living room then the bedroom door opened, and Matt stood there.

  “Darling, our friends have arrived. It’s time for you to meet them. I met them tonight and now it’s your turn. They are so excited to be here. I went to a special club that has special people for their club members. They have very special hobbies.”

  He went over to the bed and placed a gag over her mouth. It had a large ring in the centre that forced her mouth open and her jaw as wide as it would go. She opened her eyes wide in fear.

  “Yes darling, I know you can’t wait!” He turned to the door and got out his camera to take pictures of her. “How about some family photos for your friends in the newspapers?”

  Ellen looked on in painful horror and tried to close her legs, the more she tried; the more she exposed herself to his eyes. Her eyes were wide and she tried to shake her head. He smiled at her maliciously.

  She started to scream and the moment she did, He started taking pictures.

  Matt was watching her anguish and torment, an evil smile on his face. He inhaled from his cigarette, and blew a stream of smoke into the air, then came over to where she was lying. Matt looked down at his wife, she looked so helpless and vulnerable, and his eyes glittered with glee. Matt placed the burning part of his cigarette against the tip of her nipple, and watched the flesh melting. Ellen screamed with the pain and arched her back.

  “Nice!” Matt held the cigarette down, until he smelt her flesh burning, and then he did the same to the other nipple.

  Ellen lost all track of time; all she knew was that her whole body ached in ways she hadn’t believed possible. She no longer cried, as it made no difference to Matt. Suddenly it all stopped, and Ellen relaxed, she was exhausted, she started to doze. She felt emotionally numb, and physically battered, bruised and drained. After a while, she sank into a deep dark calmness.

  She woke up and Matt was stood in the corner, still watching.

  “Don’t worry. I’d let you go, darling, but not yet. I want to play with you some more.”

  Matt started laughing, and leant her over Ellen’s face.

  “I think you need to be rewarded.” He took out his massive member and mounted her, ramming himself full to the hilt. He spat into her forced open mouth as he fucked her hard.

  Her jaw was aching from the open cock ring gag; she tried to move her face away. He thrust a few more times, then withdrew and came; letting the hot come fill her, forced open, mouth.

  Ellen closed her eyes, and for the first time in her life, prayed to die. If she could die right there and then, it would be a blessing. She would never forget this night, he had made sure of it. Later, he released her, but she was so beaten and exhausted, that she remained spread eagled on the bed, unable to move.

  For the first time in her life, Ellen wanted to kill. She wanted to murder Matt.

  Chapter Fourteen - Dean

  Since Ellen’s wedding, Dean’s emotional world was turning upside down. To make matters worse, Ellen had returned from her honeymoon. She had immediately rushed to see him, told him she loved him and had asked him to be there for her. When she had suddenly kissed him, he had been so surprised that he hadn’t even had the time to react and by the time he went to return her kiss, she was grabbing her things and leaving. He was so used to being the one that made the first move that when she did he was completely taken back. He was ashamed to say that when she had been in his arms and crying, he had enjoyed the nearness of her. He loved the fact she needed him. When she had left he had paced up and down, then not sure what to say, had phoned her. Hearing the answer machine and not knowing if Matt would be listening he left a non descript message just so she would know he had called her and wanted to see her again. He felt like a teenager again and where Ellen was concerned, an excited one at that.

  Priscilla had been very quiet at work, but he knew something was wrong, just from the way she had been acting. That too, had all started at the wedding. Whilst he was not one to pry, he wanted her to know if there was something wrong, and he could help her, he would. He was hoping that she was an ex of Matt’s, and that would all brew up again, and she would decide she wanted Matt back. All hell would be let loose and he would help Ellen pick up the pieces. It was just an idea, but one he secretly hoped would happen.

  Although, looking at the fear and anger on their faces at the wedding, he couldn’t help thinking that no woman was safe with Matt. To the point that if Priscilla did consider returning to him, he would have to advise her against it, after Ellen had left Matt, of course.

  Dean looked at his watch; he hoped Priscilla would remember the meeting with the Sultan. She hadn’t been completely efficient to her normal standards lately; just a few little forgotten things. It was, as though, she had her good days, and her bad days, yet when she had joined, they were all fabulously good days. She was professional to the ‘nth’ degree and he liked that about her. Chances are, it was all related to that bug she had, and she was still looking tired from that. He wondered if it were more serious than she had let on, but she seemed so cheerful that if it were cancer, or something dreadful, he doubted she would have been so happy about the place.

  Just in case, he grabbed his brief case, back up copies of all the documents, texted her that he was also attending, and jumped in the car. If he put his foot down, he could just make it on time. One thing the Sultan was, was a stickler for time. It was all right for him to be late, but you were never to keep him waiting. People had lost millions in deals with him, because once he walked out of a meeting, there was no turning back. With that thought in his mind, he raced the lights.

  When Dean arrived, Priscilla was just pulling up in her car too. He leapt out and went to open her car door for her. As she stepped out, he noticed that her skirt was a little tighter than usual. He thought it made her look very sexy. She had placed a chiffon scarf over her hair and tucked it all in. In all, her skirt suit was a longer length Dior, with a looser jacket. Everything about it was very modest, very business like, and yet very feminine with it. Dean knew of the lengths she had gone to, to minimise her attractiveness for their meeting.

  As they went through the double doors together, the Sultan arrived to greet them, an effusive man, his arms spread wide in welcome. He shook hands with Dean and politely nodded at Veronique to acknowledge her presence, even though he was not required to. He noted, without feeling, that she was a modest woman with downcast eyes. He felt pity that she had not found a good man to veil her. Dean led the meeting. Veronique knew the required etiquette of a woman in the Middle East, and whilst the Sultan had been western educated, she knew he appreciated a quiet, obedient, woman.

  The meeting went well. The Sultan wanted to charter a few additional yachts for his entourage, and whilst he would normally have his male secretary do all the details, he enjoyed Dean’s company and as far as his staff was concerned, she was one woman who knew her place and did not fawn all over him as many of the western women did. In his mind, the Sultan thought some western women behaved like whores, tempting men to commit adultery with their eyes, showing their necks, shoulders, their knees and worst of all, their hair; parts of a woman that were so beautiful, that they should be only for the man who married her, to see.

  As they left, Dean walked Veronique back to the car. She rested her hand on the top and began to breathe slowly.

  “Are you ok, Priscilla?�
��

  “Oh Dean, I am sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I have to resign.”

  “Pardon?” He was visibly shocked. He thought things had been going so well for her in his company. He thought she enjoyed the work. He enjoyed her company too. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked working for me?”

  “I do! It’s not that. It’s just my circumstances have changed.”

  “Changed? How so?”

  “There is no easy way to tell you this, but I am pregnant.”

  “Oh!” His first thought was, that everything suddenly made sense at the wedding. The baby must be Matt’s. He didn’t know what else to say, and so he patted her politely on the shoulder. “Let’s discuss this back at the office, and see what we can do.”

  At the office, they sat down together. Dean didn’t quite know what to say again and so he started by asking what her plans were.

  “I don’t honestly know Dean. I am as surprised by this news, as you are.”

  “What about the father? Does he know yet?”

  “No he doesn’t, and it’s nothing to do with him.”

  “Really? I would think any man would want to know he is about to be a father. No matter who he is. Even if he is...married, he might still want to know.” He still thought it was Matt’s.

  All her defences had gone up, and he knew that he had touched a sore nerve, obviously a subject that she didn’t want to discuss, and so he let it drop. “You don’t have to leave, you know? You can work from home when you get bigger.” He looked covertly at her relatively flat stomach. He had no idea about such things, and so he couldn’t tell how far along she was. To him, she didn’t even look pregnant. “Besides we work well together, and the business is booming, thanks to you. I would hate to lose you.”