He’d learned that lesson early on in their marriage, when behind his back a nurse had experimented with not giving his wife her drugs while he’d been out of town on a trip. Mary had become coherent enough to start asking the woman to please rescue her, take her someplace safe.
Only because he’d come home two days earlier than expected, without announcing his return, had he discovered the treachery and fired the nurse on the spot.
By the time the authorities arrived hours later, he’d already forced Mary to take her medication and it had taken effect enough that she calmly told the police, even without him present, that the nurse was lying. That Mary had been worried the nurse was trying to take advantage of her during her husband’s absence.
Fortunately, Mary had learned her lesson well, not revealing the beating Hannibal had given her ass with his belt upon discovering her guile and just after grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to take her medication.
He’d taken great satisfaction in fucking her ass several times that night, too, her cries only making him harder and last longer.
It had been the last time Mary had ever tried something like that. It’d also been the last time he’d had to give her such a brutal reminder of who was in charge of her and her life.
Funny, you’d think she would have remembered what happened the first time she crossed me.
She still received a nightly belting ever since that night, not enough to mark her, just enough to remind her, keep her in line.
Her ass was so toughed by the daily whippings she likely couldn’t feel them, even though she still cried every night during their routine.
He couldn’t help that he liked that. Making her submit, as the Bible said, to him, her husband.
Her rightful ruler.
And after her beating every night, he was generous enough to gift her with a mouthful of his cum. Because, let’s face it, beating her always made him horny.
Always had.
If she was really good, he’d fuck her bent over the bed immediately after her discipline, her bright red ass hot and glowing.
Even before he’d started the nightly discipline sessions, she’d learned within the first few months of their marriage to perform her wifely duties with him whenever he requested, without complaint or hesitation. Every time she’d tried to balk him, at first, he’d trotted out the two-hour video and forced her to sit and watch every minute of it, one fist in her hair and ensuring she looked at the screen and kept her eyes open, while he stroked his raging erection with the other. When the video ended, he always gave her one last chance to submit to him, or he would force her to ride with him to her parents’ home so he could play them the disgusting video.
Of her, at the frat party.
Okay, sure, so he’d paid a friend who was a pharmacology student to spike her drink with something that would only lower her inhibitions, not make her look drunk or drugged. Then when they’d given Silo the signal, he’d come in and filmed her begging for as much cock as she could get in all of her filthy holes. Twenty-three men, each who’d fucked her at least once, many of them twice or even three times, and sometimes she took three of them at once, one in each hole.
Her unmistakable cries of pleasure as she’d orgasmed over and over again and asked for still more, until literally not a single man in the room could get it up anymore.
Except Hannibal.
He’d shut the video camera off, then grabbed her hair and made her suck him off twice.
She’d been so out of it she hadn’t recognized him.
The next day, after he coaxed her to his apartment with a promise to help her study, he cooked her a nice dinner and then showed her the video for dessert. She’d begged him not to show the video to her parents. Of her begging to be gang-banged by twenty-three horny frat boys.
Which he was fine with, as long as she agreed to marry him. Otherwise, he would not only show the video to her parents, but he would send copies of it to her other relatives, their pastor, and post it on the Internet in so many places that she would never get them all removed. And that he would make sure to include her personal information, and an invitation that she was always up for a little anonymous rough sex.
That night he’d discovered his friendly, calm, benign smile, the one that charmed parishioners by the millions. He hadn’t yelled or screamed or even gotten angry.
He hadn’t lost control.
He had, however, given her the first over-the-knee spanking then as punishment, with his bare hand, before he realized using his belt on her was far more humiliating to her.
And then he’d had her strip and get on her knees and suck him off. Even better, he’d made her beg him to allow her to suck him off, the way she’d begged the other men to fuck her on the video.
The way a filthy whore should beg.
Along with the order that she was to always swallow his cum, not losing a single drop, or she would be beaten.
Thus began Mary’s training in how not to piss off Hannibal Silo.
* * * *
Silo waited to go to Mary’s room until after Elise had left. She sat on the end of her bed, in her housecoat, hands in her lap.
Standing in the doorway, he watched her, silent, waiting.
As always, she broke first, a soft sniffle escaping her before the tear rolled down her cheek. She turned, raising her house coat above her hips, then leaned over the bed, bare ass exposed.
From chubby to full wood. He unfastened his belt and slowly walked across the room, the sound of his shoes audible on the tile floor. “Such a dutiful wife,” he said.
She responded with a sniffle.
First the belting, then the blow job. When he finished with their evening discipline routine, he tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped up, all while looking down at her face. The night nurse would arrive in an hour, to cook dinner and stand watch throughout the night.
Mary had already had her bath. Normally, she would eat dinner and go to bed while he’d retire to his study to do his work before bed.
Tonight, they were awaiting Dr. Isley before he could send Mary to bed or go about his own nightly routine.
Currently, his project was scanning through the files of the church’s burgeoning Church of the Rising Sunset Youth Corps.
Particularly, the files of girls who either were eighteen, or who soon would be, and who had been members of the Youth Corps all their lives. Girls of parents with means who had contributed generously to the church. Faithful parishioners.
And they couldn’t be trolls.
That tended to narrow the choices.
He had plans for these girls. To cull the crème de la crème from each region.
To find the best of the best.
So that when his plans fell into place, he would have suitable wives ready at his command.
Wives he could bring up right.
Bring up with discipline.
As he caught himself thinking about that, he had to adjust his slacks. Wouldn’t do to get caught daydreaming while he was planning Mary’s medical regime. She’d been medicated so long at this point, he doubted even if she’d been weaned off everything if she’d ever be able to survive on her own.
She should consider herself lucky. All she’s had to do for nearly forty years is eat, exercise, watch TV, perform her wifely duties, and go to church every Sunday and sit there with Jerald at the far edge of the stage.
Everyone thought he was a great husband, to take such good care of his fragile wife.
If only they knew.
After Dr. Isley left and Mary was ensconced in her room for the night, Silo relaxed. They now had a slightly stronger regimen and several new prescriptions.
And a promise from Isley to make sure he would acquire enough medication for Mary to last over a year. Silo knew damn well Isley wouldn’t disappoint him.
Isley had as many skeletons in his closet as anyone. And Silo had a deal with him, a simple business transaction that had served them both well for
over twenty years. Silo would never reveal what he had on Isley, and Isley would not only do what Silo said in regards to Mary, but would also pass along confidential information that could help Silo with others.
Win-win.
Only the ones with ugly secrets to hide had anything to fear. And as far as Silo was concerned, fuck ’em.
They should have kept their noses clean and stayed right with God in the first place.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Their reservation time was almost up on the other house where Uni had stashed Quong’s family. He arranged another and assured the doctor they’d be safely moved.
Celia stayed behind that night at the men’s hideout with Tango, Doc, Dr. Quong, Papa, Echo, Omega, and Kilo, while Alpha, Niner, Uni, and the rest of the DMs went to move the Quongs to their new location.
Dr. Quong had agreed he didn’t want his family knowing his whereabouts in case anything happened, although he could talk with them via one of the burner cell phones Papa allowed him to use. Quong had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to be separated from his family for now for their safety…and his. Celia and the others had convinced him that the priority now lay with him and his former teammates coming up with a vaccine for Kite.
She’d been watching the TV, unable to pull herself from the news coverage of a riot that had broken out in Los Angeles, near the vicinity of the old LAX airport. What had started out as a small, peaceful protest calling for more transparency about Kite outbreaks on US soil, and what officials were doing to stop its progress in California, had soon morphed into a violent riot when police brought in tear gas in an attempt to dispel the marchers.
Then gangs, bystanders, residents—pretty much everyone, from the looks of it—all jumped in and overpowered the police, forcing them to draw back.
Now it was a bloody battle that had, so far, claimed over a hundred lives and a few blocks of buildings that had been lost to fires.
Doc settled on the couch next to her. “You sure you want to be watching that?”
A protest group had plans to hold similar demonstrations in New York City the next day. She used the remote control to change the channel. That wasn’t much better, because it was another Australian news channel reporting on the spread of Kite in Indonesia.
Complete with helpful, garishly colored graphics guaranteed to scare the crap out of anyone watching.
“Yes and no.” If she was back in Chicago, real-time social media and news updates would be flooding through their computer monitors faster than they could process them for breaking news updates for the anchors to read on-air, and to post on the website. It would be all hands on deck, with her and Mike in the thick of it and handing out assignments to the other researchers below them.
Tango took the other end of the couch, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Care to clarify, sugar?”
She settled back against his warmth, pulling Doc’s hand over onto her thigh. “I get it. This is important. Really important. This is a sort of ground zero. But right now, I also feel sort of helpless and useless because I can’t help fix this, and I can’t report that there are people working to fix it.”
“Just have patience,” Doc said. “It might feel like you’re doing nothing, like you’re spinning your wheels, but it matters.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
He squeezed her thigh. “At least everything you’ve done, you got a little credit for from someone.” He shrugged. “We never get any credit when we do stuff.”
“Get our asses chewed out if we screw up, though,” Tango muttered.
Papa walked in. “It’s late. You three better grab rack time while you can. Some of the guys are coming back here later and will need it.”
“Roger,” Tango said. Before she could reply, he’d grabbed her hand and, with a flashy grin, pulled her up off the couch and started leading her toward one of the smaller bedrooms that adjoined a bathroom.
She had enough time to see that Doc also wore a playful smile as he grabbed his kit and followed them.
Her face had filled with heat. “You realize they’re probably going to be listening.”
“Probably,” Doc said as he closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked to make sure the bathroom door was also locked. He pulled something from his bag and she realized it was a music player and a small speaker. Plugging the player in, he set it to some old soft rock music, just loud enough to help mask other sounds in the house.
“Guess we’ll have to keep your mouth busy to keep you quiet, then, won’t we?” Tango’s grin melted her heart and any reserves she might have had. This wasn’t just eager sex for either man. She’d been through that before with her past mistakes.
These men were focused on her. It felt so different with them than it ever had with anyone else. Their feelings for her permeated every touch, every look they gave her.
Maybe Tango had been more right than he’d realized. Maybe she really was a sheltered snowflake despite her Chicago upbringing. She’d thought she was more streetwise than that, but maybe not.
Next to these two men, it was almost painfully obvious how much she didn’t know about the world at large despite her decent education.
Part of her thought it was wrong to be enjoying herself so much during what might be humanity’s last gasps, but on the flip side, why deny herself that when they could steal a little happiness.
Doc also pulled a couple other things out of his bag, but then he switched off the lights and she didn’t see what they were. In the dim light, he walked over to the blinds and closed them so only a little of the streetlight out near the road cast dark shadows throughout the room.
“There,” Tango said, pulling her close. “That’s a lot better.”
His lips captured hers, her body instantly responding to him. Doc stepped in behind her, sandwiching her between them in their warmth. Their bodies felt beyond good, pressed against her like that.
They made her feel tiny compared to them, but in a good way. She didn’t feel weak and helpless. She felt protected.
Loved.
Desired.
It didn’t take long for them to all get naked. She ended up on top of Tango, his stiff cock poking her everywhere, it seemed, in an eager attempt to find the right spot. With a soft laugh, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, enjoying the way he fell still and moaned at her touch.
She gave his cock several slow, firm pumps with her hand, something inside her feeling powerful as his hips began rocking in time with her motions.
But apparently, that was all he could handle. He grabbed her hips and tried to slide inside her again. This time she took pity on him, guiding the head of his cock to her pussy. “Right there, soldier.”
He let out another moan, louder, as his hips thrust up at the same time he pulled her hips down, grinding himself against her.
Time for her to do some moaning of her own as well. Doc grabbed a fistful of her hair and tipped her head back, kissing her, fucking her with his tongue.
“Baby,” Tango hoarsely muttered, “you’re so fucking perfect. You think we’re stupid enough to even look crossways at another woman, think again.”
Doc reached around her with his other hand, his skilled fingers sliding down to her clit. He swallowed her louder moan as his fingers played with her, all the while Tango slowly fucked her.
“That’s it, baby,” Tango said. “You just sit there and enjoy it. Ride your Texas cowboy.”
Doc’s fingers worked faster, drawing her closer to release, her orgasm building, stronger—
Until he pulled his hand away from her clit and lifted his head, chuckling. “Oh, no, baby,” Doc said as her eyes flew open. “We run the show tonight.”
She was about to let out a howl of disappointment, that’d she’d been so fucking close, but he lightly smacked her ass with the same hand he’d just been frigging her with. “Down on the cowboy,” Doc said. His firm tone not only brooked no resistance, it set something afire in her soul in
a good way.
He was a man who knew what he wanted, and was about to tell her how they’d do it.
He used the hand in her hair to push her down onto Tango’s chest. “Keep her lips busy, cowboy,” Doc teased.
Tango’s hands left her hips and reached up, his fingers finding and playing with her nipples.
Behind her, she felt the bed dip as Doc moved around. He was back a moment later, though, his legs straddling Tango’s and forcing hers even wider apart. She heard a sound like a glove being put on, then a squirt, then—
She jumped, but Tango wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, no, you don’t. We might not get this chance again for a long time, baby. You’re going to enjoy this.” He reached up with one hand and fisted her hair, kissing her as Doc’s lubed finger probed her virgin ass.
Celia fell still, unsure. Hell, downright scared. The men were ample enough in her pussy. She wasn’t sure she could take them in tandem.
“Relax, baby,” Doc said. “I’m a patient man. If it takes me all night to loosen up this sweet ass of yours, I’m going to do it. I bet you’ve never had a guy here before, have you?”
She mumbled, “No,” through her kiss with Tango.
“Good. I get to be the very first, then.”
It felt odd at first, her whole body tensing as she tried to absorb what he was doing. But then Tango went back to playing with her nipples at the same time and it suddenly started feeling better.
A lot better.
Better enough as she found the perfect angle to hold her hips and glide her clit along Tango’s body. Before she realized it, Doc had one gloved finger buried inside her ass and was slowly fucking her with it.
Things got a little dicey when he added more lube and finger number two. She whined a little, not in serious protest, more in the delicious kind of trepidation she quickly found herself savoring when it came to these two hunks.
Tango finally slipped one hand between them and found her clit, and then two fingers in her ass not only felt good, but damn great.
Monkey Business [Drunk Monkeys 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 15
