I loosened one of her leg restraints and locked it to the other, hobbling Victoria on an eight inch chain. I cuffed her right wrist and loosened her left, turning her over to cuff her arms behind her back. I gagged her with the ball gag and released her from the bed, dragging her to the cage. I laughed aloud as she tried to find a comfortable position. I gave her no pillow or blanket. Then I opened the window to allow the cool evening breeze into the room. By morning it would be downright cold. I slept extremely well that evening.
First thing I did when I woke was to release Victoria and take her to the bathroom. I stood there and watched her pee and shit. I made a feeble pretense at wiping her butt and returned her to the cage, pushing her in with a foot to the butt. After locking her in I went to my office and got online. I had some ideas of what to do with my wonderful wife. I checked some sites and bought what I thought might be useful. I paid plenty for expedited delivery. I also sat at the computer and typed a letter I would force Victoria to write and sign later in the weekend when she was hungrier and thirstier. This is what I wrote and I thought it was really pretty good:
Dear loser Mortimer,
I’ve had enough of your loser life. I’ve been cheating on you almost every day since before we got married you suck ass loser. I’m going away with my lover and I’ll never see you again. Thank God. Tell those losers at the company that they can take their loser job and shove it. Don’t look for me loser. I’m never coming back to you—ever.
Your loving (ha ha) wife, Victoria.
This would explain Victoria’s disappearance from the community and from work. I wasn’t going to kill her—what fun would that be? But I definitely did have big plans for her. I went back to the bedroom, pulled her onto the bed and beat her feet again until she howled into the gag. I didn’t have a reason—I just felt like doing it and I felt good—really, really good.
You’re probably wondering why I would subject myself to Victoria’s brutal beatings. Well, let’s face it, I’m naturally submissive. How else would anyone explain my lack of dates or sexual experience? I’m generally too shy and too submissive to meet women. As to Victoria’s point plan for sex–for the first two months I must have been delusional—I actually thought I’d earn enough points to fuck her. Week 1 I gave her 56 orgasms either through my mouth or the beatings she administered. Fifty six times three is one hundred and sixty eight. My net total for the week was twenty three. Victoria took off points for everything I did including breathing at the wrong time. I’m not kidding about that! Week 2, I gave her fifty four orgasms for one hundred and sixty two points—my net was seventeen. After two weeks I had earned more than three hundred and she credited me with forty. So eventually I actually refused to play; it infuriated her. Twice she tried to force me by jumping on me, but my wrestling training enabled me to turn the tables on her. I wore the chastity device for my own protection—striking my cock was much more difficult while surrounded by stainless steel. I would let her “play” only when I needed some release…when I needed to jerk off.
Now Victoria was my prisoner and that was where she would stay. Late Saturday afternoon I traded her—food and water for writing the letter. She threw it at me when she was done. I gave her some leftover liverwurst (she hated liverwurst) and a small bottle of water. Then I locked her in the cage again. I went to the basement and took some measurements before calling a local contractor; he told me he could deliver the goods in a week. I called a plumbing supply house and ordered a stainless sink/toilet combination like the ones you might find in a prison.
On Monday morning I trudged into work a broken man. I was almost crying when I went to see my boss. I had been the envy of all the males in the building as Victoria’s husband, but now I showed Peter her letter. My eyes were red, presumably from crying but in reality from rubbing when I asked for the week off. I needed time to put my life back together—that’s what I told everyone. I got a lot of sympathy from the men. The women just cursed my bitch wife for being such a slut.
When I returned home I found the FedEx man waiting—I had to sign the delivery slip. Much of my order had arrived. Who says money doesn’t talk? I had paid a steep premium but now I had most of what I would need. I went to Victoria. “After today you won’t need to wear cuffs any longer. Isn’t that great?” I pulled her from the cage and bound her elbows together behind her back before I removed the cuffs. She now had very limited use of her hands, but not for long. I put her hands into the large rubber gloves, tightened the belts and locked them in place. When I removed the leather strap from her elbows Victoria was able to see her new puppy paws. “Victoria, how do you like your new paws? That’s right, you’re going to be my new pet, but Victoria is too long a name for a pet so I’ll just call you Vickie.” She glared at me—she hated the name Vickie. The next thing I put on her was her collar—not just any collar mind you. This was a special training collar that would give her one hell of a shock when I pushed the little button on my remote.
Victoria was extremely proud of her long lustrous black hair. She brushed it every evening and again every morning. It had to go; it was too much work for me. “Well, Vickie, my little puppy, time to go to the groomer. Puppy needs a clipping. I pulled out my new home haircut tool with the half inch comb attached. I took her outside by a leash attached to her collar, restricted her movement by tying the leash close to the table and sheared away her hair. Victoria cried like a baby, but it broke her spirit. When I was done she had a short do, exactly one half inch long all over her head. I was thrilled; it looked absolutely terrible.
I installed the sink/toilet combo in the basement near a laundry tub. Then I bolted two-by-fours into the concrete floor forming a rectangle six by eight feet. I added two-by-fours to the ceiling beams exactly matching the boards I had installed below. On Friday the welder delivered the wrought iron pieces I had ordered. I had him drop off everything by the exterior door where I could easily bring everything down to what would become Vickie’s new home. The first piece was three feet wide. I placed it against the wall and screwed it into the two-by-fours I had installed. I added the second piece and then turned the corner for the third. Soon enough I had built a kennel for my pet. There was a door in the center that I would secure with a heavy duty padlock. I put a delightful large doggie bed on the floor, added an old pillow, and a blanket. Then I added the final item—my new pet. She cried when she saw her new home. I had no sympathy for her whatsoever. She was getting better than she deserved—I would be responsible for her care for the rest of her life, or mine (whichever ended first).
CHAPTER 5
One of my first jobs when I returned to work was to find a replacement for my wife, as if anyone could possibly replace her. I read through more than a hundred resumes and interviewed twenty, asking four to come back for a second. These candidates were really good—much better than Victoria on her best day. One candidate stood out from the crowd. She had an excellent resume, prior experience with a competitor, and most importantly—in the second interview she flirted with me shamelessly. She wasn’t all that much to look at. Her face was relatively plain and her hair—in pigtails in the interview—was mousy brown. Her body, all five foot two of it, on a scale of one to ten might have made a four, but the whole package was surprisingly pleasing. I gave her the job. Sandra worked her way into the team seamlessly and I was congratulated for making a great hire.
Sandy had been on the job about a month when she came to my office at the end of the week. She was almost in tears. I came around the desk to sit next to her. She breathlessly confessed having a huge crush on me, telling me she was terribly unhappy being so close to me but unable to be with me. She was afraid she would have to quit, that’s how much it was affecting her. I was overcome by her honesty after dealing with Victoria’s duplicity. I kissed her. It was gentle and chaste at first but it evolved into a long and passionate kiss, tongues dueling and exploring each other’s mouths. I followed her home to her modest apartment. I met her dog, a big Doberman, and I had an evil idea. We ordered pizza delivery. We sat and talked and watched TV and then we fucked. It was absolutely glorious, everything that sex with Victoria wasn’t. We kissed tenderly, holding and caressing each other. Her skin was not perfect, but it was wonderfully smooth and sensitive. She led my hand to her cunt, encouraging me to rub and finger her. She was wet and hot. She reached for my cock and found it hard and ready. Sandy pushed my head to her breast, encouraging me to suckle before she climbed on top of me and lowered herself onto my cock.
Oh God, it was incredible—hot, wet, and very, very tight—as she ground her clit into me over and over. We moved together in an act of love and desire and need. Suddenly she stopped; I could see her body tremble before her orgasm hit her hard. I kept driving into her until I felt my balls clench and I came again and again flooding her womb in baby cream. We lay back holding each other and kissing until we fell asleep still in each other’s arms.
Here was the incongruity: I married a woman who was a ‘10’ but whose sex was a ‘4’ at best; I just had sex with a woman who was a ‘4’ but whose sex was at least a ’10.’ Of course, Victoria was a sadistic control freak who got off on inflicting pain, whereas Sandy was a pliable giving person. Looking at her the next day I noticed that her breasts were different sizes, but it didn’t matter to me. I saw that she had some acne on her back, but that didn’t matter either. She had loads of imperfections, but don’t we all? Sandy’s were on the surface; Victoria’s were inside. Give me the exterior ones any day.
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