Anne-Marie "4th Wife"

"The Five Wives of the Insatiable Thomas Sutton"

You can read the Prologue here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-five-wives-of-insatiable-thomas.html

Sheila "First Wife" here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/sheila-first-wife.html

Zhen Zhen "2nd Wife" here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/zhen-zhen-2nd-wife.html
Martha here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/martha-3rd-wife.html

Caroline has such a unique style and  a way of truly captivating her readers. I am so fortunate to have such an amazing writer guest write on my blog today.  Please leave loving comments below.

Caroline lives in a Mad house' but assures me she's quite sane, well most of the time! Believes music soothes the soul and awakens the mind, and though she has not travelled far, she will one day! Find her here: http://carolinerainbow.blogspot.com/

Anne-Marie "4th Wife"

Anne- Marie

My name is Anne Sutton, I have another name but I am sure she will introduce herself to you in her own good time.

 I have been married to Thomas for three years now, it wasn’t me he met first, but it was I he fell in love with. Confused? Well welcome to my world. I have spent my life time confused. It is only when I lay in Thomas’ arms that my uncertainty leaves me and I am complete.

 Yes I find it hard sharing him with the others; my sisters through love and matrimony. I believe I find it slightly easier than them, as I have shared my whole self since I was born.

 My sister’s sometimes share in the delectable delights that Thomas enjoys. I hear their groans and warmth floods my skin, my fingers find my fleshy mound awakening desires. As pleasure finds me her caustic laugh whispers in my ears filling me with shame as she taunts that I should join in with their frolics. But I can’t. My time with Thomas is precious; I do not want to share any more than I have to.

 I often wonder in times of anguish if he prefers her over me. I torture my already fragile mind that he hopes I will disappear into the oblivion I am forced to wander when she casts me out. After all, it was her that brought him to me.

 It was I my sisters met first, I was meek and timid and they welcomed me with open arms. Under their guidance, I learnt to cook, was even giving instructions how to please Thomas in the ways he likes. He was my first, not hers. No, definitely not hers! I have lost count of her 'first times' with other men.

 In my sorrow I try not to let the hate that twists my gut consumes me. I will not let her win; Thomas is as much mine as hers, or the others.

 She’s laughing at me now; I can hear her mocking me. I feel her pulling me back but I remain strong fuelled by the love I have for my blessed children. I wish to tell you the strength they give me against her, for they are mine. Not hers. She does not love them like I do; it pains me so when I return from the darkness to find fresh tears dried upon puffy cheeks where they have felt the pain of her rejection.

 Thomas always comforts me, soothing kisses and kind words that I am an excellent mother, that my children understand that their mother is slightly different. She is here now, demanding I piss off into the dark and let her shine.

My sisters know; there are no secrets in this house. Secrets grow and fester like mold seeping under the skin infecting the soul with bacteria that breeds contempt. Thomas is quite adamant about that! No lies, ever.

 She is not threatened by my sisters, quite the contrary, she thrives in their disdain. Callous whispers in my ears that Thomas only married me out of pity or that my sisters despise me; think me weak. I know it is not true, her words hurt, but I do not dwell.

Love making with Thomas is gentle, he is such a compassionate man that my heart aches from the weight of love I carry for him. Without him I would disintegrate into a permanent void of sorrow.

I leave you now, I cannot hold on. She is here.

My name is Marie Sutton. I guess you could say that Thomas gets two for the price of one. I have had to share my life with that miserable existence that refuses to hang up coat and jump the bridge.

 She provides great amusement to me in her bumbling attempts at seduction. A soggy leaf of dampness between her legs is not enough to get my Thomas hard and wanting. It’s laughable.

When he met me he all but foamed at the mouth, his insatiable appetite matching mine. We had collapsed together in tangled limbs of exhaustion. Awoken by her pitiful cries of humiliation, Thomas had fallen in love with her weakness, the Neanderthals instinct to protect what's his.

When I broke through the membrane of her mind I discovered I was married into a world where a man got to have his cake and lick every crumb off the plate. She lets him lick of course, lord help her if she responds! I swear I've never heard anyone pray for forgiveness more than I have her.

I leave her to the chores, let her be the good little house wife she wants to be, mingle with her sisters, mother her children. All I ask is that I get my share of Thomas when I want him. Oh she fights me on that one! It is about the only time I feel the strength in her that stops me swallowing her whole.

I find it all so amusing how much they all worship him, how they work so damn hard to please him in and out the bedroom. Silly woman, they hate me. I see it in their eyes when I break through the thin veil that divides us.

 So easily I could shred the delicate fabric, though I have no desire to be someone’s little woman, the only place for me is in Thomas arms with his hard cock raging deep inside me.

I know what he wants. He encourages me out that stupid bitch, no matter what he tells them. I know he lies to them regardless of his righteous words. I'm his secret whore. I perform whatever dark desires that consume his needs; he cannot hide his true wants from me!

‘Shut your whining bitch, it’s my turn.’ That voice! It scratches at my brain like fleas sucking my blood, an irritant I can't relieve myself of no matter how hard I try to push her over the edge.

 We are one regardless. I’m the dark she's the light, all little miss perfect in a world of sin playing happy families.

Forgive me, she is gone for now.

 My family might not be traditional but it is mine, our conflicts are just as any others, our priority to our children as important as yours.

We battle against the poison of jealousy as we each strive to be pleasing to the man we have pledged our love to. It is hard and at times we struggle but it is no different than trials and tribulations of others. Respect of one anothers time with our husband is a must; our differences are what unite us. Though we share love, it is only I who shares myself.