In that position she'd had all she could do to keep from plunging her hand between her legs and bringing herself to a dozen orgasms in a row just thinking about what he might do to her. Not to mention what he'd already done, punishing her naked ass with his hand.
"I—I was curious,” she admitted.
Kevin laughed. “Who are you kidding? You were horny as hell."
Erin blushed. Seemed like she was feeling that way a lot lately. “I'm afraid of this, though,” she whispered at last, her eyes focused on her hands as she sat next to him, legs tucked up underneath her. “I don't want to be ... a slave."
His smile almost made her weep, so full of love was it. “I know, baby, but it has to happen.” He stroked her cheek. “The first parts will probably be the toughest, but it will get better. We'll learn this together. One step at a time."
It was then she remembered Roger Caine. She was weepy again, this time thinking of how much she wanted them to be free of the man.
"That's enough,” Kevin said, mistaking her emotion for further fears about his leadership over her person. “You need to trust me now."
"Kevin, it's not that..."
He was hearing none of it. “You will have to call me master,” he explained. “I will call you by your given name or any other I choose. Erin is now a slave name. Do you understand?"
"Yes,” she whispered. “Master."
Kevin rose from the bed and went to the middle of the room. “Come to me, I want you to kneel at my feet."
Erin's limbs barely carried her across the distance. Lowering herself into subservience before her husband, she had no idea how she would have the strength again to rise.
He began by taking her hands in his. “This change is permanent. It is binding, between our hearts. I have a contract for you to sign, but that has no meaning in itself. What matters is you, giving yourself to me, heart and soul and body over to my keeping. Do you acknowledge this? Do you surrender yourself to me now?"
She squeezed his fingers for strength. “I do,” she said. “My master."
His expression was solemn, his eyes lit with a proud light. Erin had never seen him like this. So strong. So imposing.
He helped her to her feet. “Take your clothes off, Erin. It is time you were naked for your master."
Her fingers trembled over the buttons. Her body was hot and eager, weak with desire. She pulled the dress over her head and undid her bra. Both nipples were tensely peaked, eagerly anticipating whatever might lie ahead. Delicately, with as much femininity as possible, she slid down her panties, letting them fall to her feet. Her crotch was wet and fragrant beneath the silk material.
The last item was her shoes, a simple pair of white pumps. She stood before him now in her birthday suit. She'd done so hundreds of times before, but it was different now. Her nudeness meant submission. Vulnerability. Possession.
It was not her own choice to stand like this, but his. Whatever might happen next, what she might be made to do and for how long was up to him. For that matter, he might give her nothing at all to wear. She was no longer merely his loving wife. She was his property. Owned, in the same way he might go to the store and buy a dog.
The idea both terrified and thrilled her.
It was an abstract, general concept, this new slavery, but it was becoming more real by the second.
"Put your hands at your side, Erin."
She looked down. Without realizing it she'd been trying to cover her twitching pussy.
"Your privacy is something you'll have to learn to surrender. There'll be no more closing doors to me. Or your legs, either."
A wave of rebellion came over the young woman. “But surely there will be awkward times-"
"Silence, Erin."
The harshness of his voice caught her off guard. She felt a puppy or a small child, being rebuked. Hanging her head, she waited for her husband's—make that her master's discipline.
"There won't be any more awkward times, Erin. You will fuck when and how I say and for how long. Is that understood?"
"Yes, master."
"Repeat it back to me, then."
Erin swallowed hard. “Master will fuck me when and how he wants,” she murmured. “For as long as he wants."
"And master will share you as he pleases, as well."
Her knees nearly buckled. This was not a possibility she had envisioned.
"There is a pool cue case in the hallway,” said Kevin. “Bring it to me."
Erin handled the bag like it was full of snakes. And in many ways, it was. There was no real mystery what things might be inside of it. Wicked things. Instruments of pain. Erin the wife would have been at liberty to toss such a bag out into the street. Erin the slave was compelled to bring it to her husband and master. Erin the wife could tell him to take a flying leap. Erin the slave, upon her naked flesh, would take whatever abuse he might wish to dole out.
"Set the bag on the bed,” he commanded.
Erin noted his erection. She would very much like to be fucking right now, but that, too, was up to him.
"Now unzip it."
One item at a time, she pulled out the contents. With each new discovery, her mouth grew drier and her heart beat faster.
There was a riding crop, slim and leather like jockeys used on their horses. There was a thicker whip, too, with multiple leather strands. The most unnerving thing, however, was the cane. A long rod of bamboo a half an inch thick.
"Your skin will feel all three of these in time,” he explained. “And a lot more besides. Sometimes it will be for my pleasure. Sometimes for your correction. On occasion you will be made to choose yourself what to be beaten with. Tonight it will be the cane. I won't lie to you. It will hurt a great deal. This is punishment. For giving yourself to another man."
Erin felt a wave of panic rise up in her breast. She thought of running. Instead, she fell to his feet, grasping his ankles in desperation. “Don't beat me, please, master."
Kevin kicked her away, coldly. “Get on the bed, slave. On all fours, facing the head board."
Spurned, Erin took up her position. Kevin moved behind her, completely out of view. It was twice as unnerving this way, not being able to see what he was doing.
"Stop squirming,” he touched her ass with the cane.
Even the tap was hard on her pliant flesh, unforgiving. With every fiber of her being she wanted to beg for mercy.
"I'd intended to give you five blows,” he told her. “But that number is now doubled, thanks to your little display on the floor. You may thank me for being strict with you."
"Thank you,” repeated the slave girl, “for being strict with me."
"And I am prepared to receive my sentence,” he fed her more words.
Erin's pussy pulsed with life. Her ass was one huge, exposed nerve. “And I am prepared ... to receive my sentence."
Kevin had his way with the cane, rubbing the edge of it over her pussy lips and teasing her asshole. “Before we are done,” he predicted, “you will beg for my cock in this tight little hole."
Erin arched her back as though already struck. He intended to break her down for anal intercourse. That one barrier between them, that one great part of her she'd denied him access to was about to be breached. And it was not mere force that would win the day, but stealth. He would, in effect, make her offer her own virgin channel for plundering.
"You are permitted to scream,” he told her. “Though be aware this is a luxury you will not always be granted."
Erin shook out her hair, trying to fathom this bizarre new world where pain was a given and vocalizing it a treat. It was the open-endedness that was hardest to bear. The idea that he could play with her, cruelly, for as long as he wished, making denial and degradation her mainstays. Honestly, she did not how she would manage.
The answer came in the form of the first blow. A whistling of wood ending in an explosion of heat, pounding at her nerve endings. I've been hit, she thought, I've been struck ... like an animal.
&n
bsp; Erin was too shocked to scream. Her fingers dug into the covers of the bed. Before she could do much else to react, her husband caned her again. This blow was even harder and she had no choice but to cry out.
"Kevin ... oh, fuck ... no ... no more."
"Protesting will cost you five more. You have a lot to learn, slave girl."
"Master,” she moaned. “I'm sorry ... so sorry."
Kevin ignored her pleas. She lost track after the fourth or fifth blow. The pain was continuous now, a steady ripping of her flesh from the inside out punctuated by knife stabs of agony. Unable to sustain herself on hands and knees, Erin fell to her belly.
The cane strokes followed her down.
"We'll hold at ten for now,” he paused at last. “Tell me,” he rubbed the bamboo over her tortured flesh. “Whose ass is this?"
The right answer came to her in a flash. “Yours, master. It belongs to you."
"Very good, slave. Now tell me, would you like me inside that ass?"
His words came back to haunt her. Before he was done, he had told her, she'd be begging him to take her anally. Was this her chance to ease her suffering by confirming his wishes? Or was it simply a chance to show him what he'd done to her, how he'd taught her more in five minutes of the power and beauty of the male gender than she'd learned in her whole adult life?
"I beg it, master,” confessed the newly born slave. “I beg you ... force your will on me."
Kevin administered a reminder tap to her blazing posterior. “You have five more blows of the cane first. Back on all fours."
Erin whimpered. She'd been put in her place, reminded that her pleas meant nothing to him anymore, nor did her sex hold any power in this relationship. He would do as he pleased. He was master.
"You will count the remainder, thanking me after each blow."
"Y—yes, master."
Eleven through fifteen followed swiftly, her own words of acquiescence coming like double humiliations, double stings. To be beaten was one thing, to be made to keep track of the numbers and thank one's abuser in the process, this was quite another. There was no way after such an experience not to be ... changed.
Indeed, she would not look at Kevin the same again, nor at the cane, or even at this bed.
"Fifteen,” she wailed, just when she thought the misery would never end. “Thank you ... master."
He moved directly to take her sex with his hand. “Whose cunt?” He demanded.
Erin was dripping, throbbing, wide open with need. “Yours,” she grimaced, the mix of residual pain and pleasure wracking her body.
"That's right,” he agreed. “This is master's cunt. And who gets to use it?"
"M—master."
Kevin masturbated her, forcing a moan. “But what if master wishes to share?"
Oh, god, here it was again, the issue of giving her to other men. “Master does as he wishes,” she gasped. “With the slave's cunt."
"Very good, Erin.” He plucked out his fingers, moving them to her asshole. “The slave opens her legs only at master's command. She does not spread of her own volition for others. She does not even touch herself. Is this understood?"
She reeled under the implications. Masturbation would no longer be an option. She would be dependent upon him utterly for her pleasure. “I understand, master."
He was lubricating her, preparing the way for his cock. A second later she felt him, poised. “You will have to please me from now on,” he was saying. “You have no other purpose in this marriage. I am the man, and I am assuming that role."
He had never been this thick and hard. She was twice as afraid now to take him in her virgin asshole. “Master,” she cried. “It's so ... tight."
Kevin seized her hair, pulling it hard by the root. “Stop whining, slave girl. Open for master's cock. Now!"
Erin's pussy cascaded. At the same time, something gave way from within and she felt her anal muscles relax, his words having broken something deep inside.
But there was to be no easing, no meeting in the middle. Kevin intended to go right on pushing, figuratively and literally.
"You need to abandon any ideas you have of ownership over me,” he said. “You are my property; I am the free person. That means I come and I go as I like, while you wear the chains. We'll get a cage, Erin, and you'll be kept in it. I, on the other hand will be spreading my wings. I've been fucking Malbie's daughter, you know. Bree, that's right. The little bitch who made you so jealous at that picnic last summer, remember? I swore up and down we weren't having as affair then, but we were."
Erin tried to pull free, but she only caused herself more pain.
"Keep still,” he hissed. “Take it."
Take it she did, along with the orgasm that was brewing up from deep inside. One touch, just one little touch of his finger and she would come. “Master ... need to..."
"No.” He smacked her ass hard. “You are not permitted orgasms without permission. I want you hungry for now. Focused on my pleasure."
His pleasure. He'd taken plenty of that from Bree. So her suspicions at the picnic had been right after all. The way the little slut kept throwing herself all over Kevin that day, in her tiny half shirt with the exposed, ringed belly button and a skirt that barely qualified as a handkerchief much less an article of clothing to cover the pussy and ass of a full grown woman.
It wasn't right. Why was she paying for her infidelity while he was being let off the hook for his? Did having a dick excuse everything? The answer lay in her desperate, craving pussy. She belonged like this, she needed, wanted invasion, conquest and control. She needed a merciless cock, a hard merciless man, who would love her but brook no equality whatsoever.
Fuck, she hated her biology.
"I—I want to please you, master ... tell me, do I please you?"
Kevin pushed her cheek to the surface of the bed. “Were you given permission to speak?"
Erin was coming. She could not help it. Her body simply lacked the discipline to hold back. As punishment she was made to lay on her back, her whipped ass burning against the bed covers as he climbed onto her face, feeding her his cock.
Tears streamed down her face as he reached back to pinch her tits. There was no stealing pleasure this time. Erin was a fuck vessel; she would take his seed in pain and submission. His balls slapped her chin as she fought the urge to gag.
"Let's see how good you are,” he taunted. “Let's see if you're as good as Bree."
Humiliated and degraded, Erin tried to suck her husband's cock as well as the eighteen-year old slut. She had no pride now, only the most basic and desperate need to please. This man was all-powerful now. Everything depended upon him; above all his good will and amount of time she was allowed with him.
"Oh, yea,” he grunted, this look of total manliness coming over his face. “I need this. I fucking need it. This is what gets me off."
On this basis alone, Erin was happy. She'd loved him as her husband, and she loved him twice as much as her master. It was not a free woman's happiness, of course. It was the happiness of a woman in bondage.
Kevin pulled out before the end. “Not that way,” he chided.
Erin was made to take his ejaculation on her face, another thing she would never have wanted on her own. He aimed for an even spray, landing gobs of the stuff on her cheeks, her nose, even her eyebrows. He managed to land some on her breasts as well, much to his delight.
"Rub it in,” he commanded, remaining astride her stomach.
Erin washed her face in the thick, white substance. Then she ran her fingers down her neck, and across the surface of both nipples. She was so horny; was he going to let her come?
The answer was no. Dragging her from the bed he forced her to the floor on her side. From there he cuffed her hands behind her back. He had another pair of steel manacles for her ankles. Drawing her feet up to her ass he linked both sets. Erin was helpless now in a hogtie position.
She looked up, but all she could see was his feet. “You'll find,” h
e informed her, “that I will generally fuck you on the bed and let you sleep on the floor. That will help you remember your true status."
Erin did not think she was in danger of forgetting that status any time soon. She'd been beaten, violated in her ass and verbally humiliated. Her husband had treated her like dirt and made her beg for it to boot. He had laid out a course of cruelty and discipline and made her promise, ahead of time, her full surrender. In short, he had ripped apart her world and handed it back in pieces.
But he had also told her he would not leave her and that he would take the responsibility on himself to be her master. He had not given up on her, though she had cheated on him. It was true he had indiscretions of his own, but truth be told society always looked the other way when a married man played as opposed to a woman. He could have taken his easy out, divorced her, married Bree or some other hot little thing, but he was choosing to stay with her.
Craning her neck, she reached out to the side of his shoe to kiss and lick it. She was so full of love that her heart was ready to burst. Stooping down, he stroked her hair, gently as one would a pet. “Sleep well my little one."
His words made her belly fill with warmth, even as she lay in Kevin's chains, completely immobile. She heard him walk out the door, closing it behind him. On the way out, he turned off the lights. The thought occurred to her to try and steal an orgasm in the dark. It would be easy enough, rubbing her thighs together or rolling to her stomach and humping the floor. But she knew she must not. For though she might get away with it, she'd know in her heart she'd done wrong.
Would it stay this way? Would she go on wanting to be a good slave? Or would rebellion rear its ugly head again?
She was still debating the issue in her mind when a new need arose, one far more pressing and unavoidable. Erin needed to pee.
Great. Now what was she supposed to do?
* * * *
Kevin found his slave wet, soaked in her own piss. It was his fault for not giving her a chance to go to the bathroom before leaving her alone in the bedroom. He was struck now with how daunting the task of mastery really was. Had he bitten off more than he could chew taking upon himself the minute-by-minute responsibility for his wife's well being? Should he think about backing out?
Obediently Ever After Page 8
