Obediently Ever After

by Reese Gabriel

  One feel of the renewed erection in his underwear told him, no, this was still his heart's desire. He could handle it. He could handle her. Reaching down to undo the chains, he lifted her limp form in his arms. She stirred, her eyes half open and full of fear.

  He whispered soothingly in her ear. “It's all right my little dove, you are safe with master. I won't punish you. It wasn't your fault."

  Her eyes slid shut once more as a smile played over her lips. He felt such a lump in his throat seeing the trust and love on her face. How could he have ever cheated on her? He had his needs as a man, of course, but he had not faced up to them at home. Now, thanks, to Roger Caine, he'd stepped up to the plate. Claimed his wife in the only real and true way he could. As property.

  Now it would all come together. His need to have outside interests, matched by his need to keep Erin's love tightly bottled up for him. And Erin's needs, those too would be satisfied. She would find fulfillment in her chains, just like the girls in his club.

  And it wouldn't all be pain. Keeping her under his thumb would let him be tender, too. In fact the desire to care for her now that she was his helpless prisoner was overwhelming.

  Laying her down in the bath, he turned on the warm water. Soon her body was half covered in sudsy, scented water. Using a large sponge he began to clean her, ever so delicately. Beginning with her smooth belly, he made small, concentric circles. She was awake by now, her eyes soft and subdued as she watched his every move.

  "I love you, master,” she whispered.

  Kevin touched her nipples, making her arch her back. She was speaking out of turn, but he didn't much mind at the moment. “I love you, too, my slave."

  She made a sweet, female sound. “Mmmm ... is this really real, master?"

  He plunged his hand under the water, taking possession of her sex. “Yes,” he furnished the proof. “It is."

  Erin's legs spread instantly. “May I beg for your cock, master?"

  He worked his finger down over her clit. “Earn it,” he said.

  The soaking wet blonde began humping his hand, her mouth open and thirsty for hard kissing. He ached to have her, here on the bathroom floor, in the hallway, in the backyard and a hundred other places all at once.

  Clearly they would not be doing much sleeping tonight, he thought.

  "Tomorrow will be your first full day in bondage,” he told her, using his other hand to tease her nipples. “You will be accountable for your time, every minute of it. You will be given chores. Lots of them. The first thing you will do is call and cancel the maid service. I intend to put you to work fully in that department."

  "Oh, master ... yes,” she nodded, face locked in bittersweet bliss. “I will be your maid."

  "You'll do a good job, won't you? Sloppiness and deficiencies will cost you, after all."

  "You ... will punish me,” she breathed.

  "Without hesitation."

  "M—master ... need to..."

  Kevin clamped a nipple. “Discipline, little girl. Discipline."

  The golden haired slave whimpered, aching, burning, chastised. “Forgive me,” she held herself back.

  "I am not going to fuck you tonight,” Kevin decided. “I want you to learn that my cock between your legs is a privilege not a right."

  Erin looked at him in misery but made no complaint. “Yes,” she replied. “Master."

  He worked her up twice more to the brink before letting her back down. She was an emotional and physical wreck by this point. It took a harsh order to focus her.

  "Settle, slave, or I'll get the cane again."

  Erin bit her lip and did her best to comply. He finished washing her, making a point of covering her sexual areas most thoroughly. He enjoyed the little bits of squirming she was unable to hold back.

  When it came time to examine her ass he was filled with wonder. For all his accomplishments in the world, nothing matched this. This work of art, this masterpiece of punished female flesh. He touched it, fascinated. Would he always feel such a rush or was it because this was the first time?

  Caine had hinted that Kevin would need to keep escalating to maintain the initial thrill level. Kevin was not so sure. He loved this woman too much, first of all, to hurt her severely, and second of all, he himself was too squeamish. This was love bondage here, between husband and wife, not total club slavery. He would have to hold that line, especially if Caine put too much pressure on him.

  The man was a genius, a tiger in a world of sheep, but he was not all-knowing, and he most certainly did not know the two of them. A slave Erin would be, but she would be his kind of slave.

  At least that was what his brain told him. Now to convince his cock.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sophia was waiting for him at his office first thing in the morning. Roger wasn't sure what new scheme the bitch had in mind, but he intended to cut it short in a heartbeat.

  "Lillian, call one of my attorneys,” he breezed past the woman in the button up cashmere sweater and pleated skirt. “I want a restraining order by noon."

  Lillian frowned, eyes passing back and forth between her boss and his ex-wife.

  "Lil, did you hear me?” Caine demanded.

  "Roger, I only want a few minutes of your time,” said Sophia with surprising meekness. “I'm not here to ask for anything, I swear it."

  He gave her a cursory glance. She was looking good. More delicious every time. Harder to resist. “You'll get three minutes. And I promise you, the first sign of monkey business and you will be out on your ear, no chance to see the kids again. Ever."

  "Thank you,” she hung her head. “I am in your debt."

  She followed him into his office, carrying some kind of plate wrapped in tin foil.

  "What's that?” he barked.

  "Chocolate chip cookies,” said Sophia. “Your favorite."

  His heart did a double take. “I know what kind of cookies are my favorite without being reminded, thank you very much, now let's get on with the business at hand. Whatever business you think you have with me."

  "May I?” She motioned toward the top of the desk.

  "Knock yourself out,” he growled.

  Sophia moved to set the plate down then returned to stand before him, her movements just as natural and graceful as always.

  "I'd ask you to sit,” he checked his watch. “But you've only a minute and half left. Better spit it out while you still can."

  "I've come to ask your forgiveness,” said Sophia, pronouncing words he'd expected never to hear in this lifetime.

  Roger could not help but miss the irony. Once upon a time he had dreamed of this moment, imagining in his mind a thousand ways to tell her to fuck off in reply, but now he felt strangely ... empty. “That's a bit academic at this point, don't you think, Sophia?"

  "Not to me.” She took his large hand in her two small ones. “Roger, I am sorry."

  He snatched it back, eschewing the moist heat of her delicate fingers. Fingers that had once entwined his in a thousand passionate embraces. How did their desire turn so quickly to hate, anyway?

  "Get out, Sophia."

  "I'm begging you, Roger, forgive me.” The proud diplomat's daughter fell to her knees now, the gesture nearly enough to make the billionaire crumble.

  Almost desperately, he clung to his cynicism. “You didn't seem so sorry yesterday when you blamed it all on the press. Quite a quick conversion on your part don't you think?"

  "You've no reason to trust me,” she agreed. “I will say only that yesterday, when you touched me, I felt ... recriminated."

  He looked for the usual signs of subterfuge in her eyes. Finding none he had to wonder—were they ever there?

  "I've no time for games, Sophia. I have work to do."

  Her head went to his feet. “Don't send me away, Roger. I know I was a bad wife. I was a cold and selfish bitch. I want to do better. I want you to make me better."

  "I'm not interested in having a wife anymore, Sophia."

  "Then
I will be your slave,” she challenged.

  His fists clenched, thinking of this little female, in chains, broken and begging and moaning. It was tempting, all right, but there would always be the ghosts. Roger Caine was not a man to ever live in the past.

  "Go home,” he said, his anger strangely dulled. “Pack your bags for Switzerland to see your children. Then check your bank account. I'll see you get a million just for having the balls to show up here like this."

  He'd expected her to jump at the money, but she stayed where she was. Crying. “I love you,” she sobbed. “I will do anything."

  Roger did the unprecedented. He put someone else's interest ahead of his own. “Listen to me,” he helped her to her feet. “If I take you as a slave, you will end up at the club. Do you know what that means? You won't serve me, you'll serve dozens of others. They will make you take your clothes off for men or wait on them hand and foot. It will be the whip. A dog cage. Food scraps on the floor. Anonymous cocks, hands on your body anytime day or night. Is this what you want?"

  Sophia threw herself into his arms. “I will bear it all, knowing I am yours."

  Caine felt the lump in his throat. Why the hell was she doing this? Wasn't life complicated enough without these kinds of emotions? Love. What the fuck was that except a lot of overpriced flowers and candy? He'd been down that road and it led nowhere. Part of the reason he was where he was now was because he'd learned that lesson early. Love meant weakness, because it meant there was something your enemy could take away from you.

  Did Sophia really want to ruin her life like this? Fine. Who was he to stand in the way?

  "All right, you crazy bitch.” He grabbed her arms. “You asked for it. Only don't try begging me later, saying you made a mistake. This is for real, sweetheart."

  "Shall I undress?” she wanted to know.

  His heart was racing. He had never been more furious with her. “You always have to have the last word, don't you? You're nothing but a grandstanding cunt who's made my life a living hell."

  Sophia did not flinch. “Punish me, then."

  That was the last straw. He'd find satisfaction and he'd find it now. Two times running she'd made him rock hard and it was time she did something about it. “Actually, I think what I want to do is shut you up for a few minutes."

  She offered no resistance as he balled her hair in his fist and shoved her back to her knees. “This had better be good, my dear, because no matter what, I own you now."

  Sophia took his cock without protest, deep throating it with unprecedented ease.

  "I guess you have been practicing,” he sneered.

  She gurgled in reply, allowing him to use her as a receptacle, a fuck toy and nothing more.

  "You know, as I think about it,” he pumped himself with harsh abandon. “I think the club really will be perfect for you. And don't worry, I'll make sure they treat you just as you deserve. Maybe you'll start by waiting tables. No tips, unfortunately, unless you count the dicks you have to take care of. Some girls never even make it above their knees all night. Although standing isn't much better. Ever had an entire ice cube melt in your pussy? Or had five men in a row come inside you while you're bent over a table, your face and tits squashed in the remains of their linguini and clam sauce?

  "Believe it or not, though, a lot of girls actually beg for this kind of treatment just to get out of their cages a while. That gets stale after a while, as you can imagine, eating from a bowl, shuffling on all fours. Then again, you could end up a dancer. Except our strippers don't just tease, they advertise for services. They say it's quite an interesting sensation writhing on stage, all those hungry eyes on you, knowing any one of them may have you, or maybe all of them, depending on how much cash they've brought."

  Sophia was unrelenting in her service. Had she really found some place in her soul, some new peace with which to deal with him? In a way this was the cruelest twist of all, just one more chapter in the ongoing, mind fuck saga that had constituted his marriage. Who was he kidding thinking there was ever anything good between them?

  His cock was ready to explode. “They say sperm makes up a significant portion of a club girl's diet. Slaves aren't permitted to spit anything out, as you can imagine. Though you'll find that out for yourself, won't you?"

  Sophia's hands went to his ass, clinging, intimate and inviting.

  "No you don't,” he grunted, pulling her back off of him, bowing her back. “You're not going to get to me, you understand?” The sweater buttons popped off as he yanked at the material. He wanted at her naked tits.

  "No bra,” he chortled. “A true slut to the end."

  Coldly he slapped them, one by one. She stifled the pain, subsuming it under her love. The expression on her on her face was just the jolt he needed to get himself off. Squeezing his cock with deliberate design, he ejaculated onto the carpet between them, a lovely white fountain, white and life filled. It landed on the dotted pattern in large, thick gobs.

  "Lick it up,” he told the slave. “There's your great bonding experience between us."

  Sophia submitted, her hair fanning out in front of her. Caine clenched his fists, the blood already pumping back into his cock as he thought of taking her, deep and long.

  "Lil,” he went to the intercom. “Call the club. Tell them there's a package in my office."

  It was the standard code to indicate he had a slave recruit with him. Ordinarily this was a sweet moment, watching as a girl was collected for processing, but in this case Roger just wanted rid of her. She was a temptation, a dangerous reminder that he had once had a heart.

  "That's enough, Sophia. You'll wear a hole in the carpet."

  Sophia knelt up, awaiting his next command. Her face was flush, rich with arousal.

  "Legs apart,” he said. “Hands behind your head."

  "Wider,” Caine made her spread her thighs another couple of inches. “Now open your mouth."

  He would leave her like this, ready for use. The club's pickup squad would be here soon enough. The first thing they would do would be to rip off her clothes and give her a very physical introduction to life in the club. Then they would take her away. Generally the girls were smuggled out naked, in a crate or rolled up in a rug. Freshly fucked and gagged, they would have plenty to think about on their way to their new home.

  Roger had a brainstorm. “Head to the floor,” he said.

  Sophia obeyed, her behind twitching, ever so slightly.

  "Hold still,” he flipped up her skirt, making a target of the sweet round ass. It was still one of the finest posteriors he had ever seen. It would mark well under the lash.

  He was tempted to inaugurate her himself, but that would end with him coming inside that same sweet pussy where he'd deposited the semen to make his two children. No more children. No more attachments to this woman.

  Finding a thin, black marker he wrote shorthand instructions on his ex-wife's skin. Things he wanted done to her upon her arrival at the club. She would indeed receive special treatment, though not as she'd imagined.

  One last look at her from the doorway and he was satisfied. Humbled, ass in the air, skirt up, pantiless, the former Sophia LeMark was meeting her final end as a free being.

  "Goodbye, my dear,” said Roger. “Oh, and by the way, I am going to arrange for you never to see me again as long as you live."

  Did that make her cry? He'd never know as he was already out the door and headed for his car. Perhaps a stronger man would have stayed to see. Then again, a truly strong man would not have made her a slave at all, thereby eliminating the temptation she had now become.

  Was this a way of punishing himself for his own perceived crimes? Knowing from this day forward that the woman he most desired in the world was his for the taking, only to refuse her with each new sunrise?

  This was a side of Roger Caine few understood. They thought him a monster, with no feelings. They did not realize that he drove himself twice as hard, punished himself twice as much as anyone else.
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  True, he was addicted to the suffering of women, but in so many ways he lived through their pain. It was young Erin who came to mind now. His newest project. A blonde waifish girl who'd presumed to defy him, never dreaming he would use her own husband to break her will. Speaking of which, it was time to check in with Kevin, the lion cub, to see how he'd enjoyed his first night as a slave owner.

  What he would have given to be a fly on the wall to see the woman taken in hand, treated precisely as he had told her on the phone she would be. Now this was something to stir his cock. Vicarious power. The puppeteer and his marionettes.

  Why not play a bit today, in fact? Why not get his mind off the unsettling emotions created by Sophia? Reaching his car, he called Kevin direct on his cell phone. Naturally, the young man answered, and rather quickly.

  After dispensing with formalities, he got right to the point. “I'd like to fuck your wife, Kevin."

  A stunned silence followed, as he knew it would. Into this he inserted his own poisonous wisdom, the fruit of the dark seeds he'd begun planting only yesterday.

  "You're going to have to do this sooner or later, you know. She's a slave, isn't she? What will that mean if you don't enforce it, if you don't impose other cocks on her? Best to start with me. I'm an expert. I'll break her in, and then give you some more tips. Frankly you have the opportunity of a lifetime here, Wyatt."

  "Yes, yes, of course, sir,” the young man pandered. “I'm grateful, really."

  Caine smiled, strong-arming an appointment. “So it would be all right if I dropped by your house this afternoon? I'd prefer you not be there, for obvious reasons."

  "You prefer I not be there?” He could hear the young man struggling.

  "Well, it's obvious she has to learn obedience, Wyatt. She must take a cock whether or not you are there to hold her hand."

  Caine had injected just enough impatience in his voice to spook him.