D.O. Wilson Ch. 02: Recalcitrant Wife

I didn't want him to know just how frightening that all sounded. I'd never seen the statute. "Will the judge fuck me?" I challenged, though my voice shook more than I'd intended.

"If you prefer to be stripped naked for an audience of what I guarantee will be more than just three other men, tied up, and beaten for their entertainment, then we can go over there right now. I'll call the judge and arrange it. I can also suggest additional consequences, given your ongoing resistance, which may well include penetration with an object much bigger than my own cock."

"No, I—just—twenty with the cane, you said?"

"Yes. This will probably leave welts. You won't enjoy sitting for a couple of days."

"Just get on with it."

"With pleasure." He wasted no time. I heard the cane whistle through the air just before it struck the middle of my right butt cheek, leaving a searing line echoed by a deep, bruising ache. "One," Gabe intoned, barely audible over my scream. A second line mirrored the first on my left buttock, squeezing tears from my eyes and drawing out a plaintive wail. "Two." He continued without mercy, alternating buttocks, creating neat, evenly spaced stripes while I writhed as much as the straps would allow and cried piteously, ashamed at my own weakness. My butt throbbed in time with my heart as the blows kept coming, and my throat grew raw. Number sixteen hit the crease where my thigh met my butt, as did seventeen, and I thought I might just pass out. I had not expected the punishment to be this painful, and I began to think submitting to my husband might be a better option after all. The final strike landed, and my sobs became tears of relief that it was over.

Only it wasn't over. Three more blows rained down on each of my thighs, catching me so off guard that I didn't even react until he was finished. Six more fiery welts flared, and then Gabe crouched beside my head. "The six extra was for all the aggravation. I assume I can expect you to cooperate from here on out?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Oh, man, it hurts so much."

"Of course it does. It's a punishment. I'm not going to give you a massage and some cake. Now, I've decided you require anal penetration to complete your punishment. Given that your husband does not require that of you, it will be that much more of an effective deterrent. You might even be grateful to return to him, knowing that he will never cane you as hard as I will, and he won't fuck your ass, either."

He had a point there, as much as I hated to admit it, even to myself. Gabe left my side. I heard him open the cabinet, presumably to replace the cane, and then he released me from the restraints. "You're not really going to do this, are you, Gabe? You're just saying it to scare me?"

"I thought we'd settled this already. Sit up."

I didn't particularly want to sit on my freshly caned bottom, but I pushed myself upright and perched on the edge of the bench, trying to support most of my weight on my hands. "This is humiliating. How can I face you at social events knowing you've—you've—please, Gabe."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Teresa. I just need to know if you're going to cooperate or if I need to restrain you for this."

"What pervert wrote that statute anyway? 'Penetrated orally, vaginally, or anally with an object of his choosing?' Just an excuse to fuck as many women as possible. How many have you fucked, Gabe?"

"Enough. I'm this close to putting you before the judge so I can stuff something up your ass in front of an audience. I'll make sure the Commissioner is there, along with your husband. Should your father-in-law see you like this, Teresa?"

"You wouldn't!"

He folded his arms high on his chest. "Are you willing to call my bluff, or can we finish this up?"

"Will it hurt?" I asked in a small voice, defeated.

"Yes. Very likely. Did you have anal training during your bridal class?"

"No. Kevin waived it. I told you, he doesn't want to go anywhere near there."

"Yes, you did mention that. Well, if it's any comfort, I won't cum. I have too many other appointments today."

"Oh, well in that case, bring it on!" Sarcasm was probably not prudent, given how short on patience he was, but I couldn't resist.

His expression was frighteningly bland. "On the table," he said.

The table, I remembered from my bridal class. "I'm sorry. I'll cooperate. You don't need to tie me up," I whispered.

"Table."

I stood up and crossed the room to the examination table and hoisted myself up, sitting on the edge with my legs pressed together.

"Good. Lie back with your bottom right at the edge."

The table wasn't exactly uncomfortable. It was well-padded, with a pillow for my head, slightly reclined, but once I'd followed his order, he guided my legs up into the stirrups and strapped them down. With my legs spread wide, I was left completely exposed and unable to resist him. Maybe that was for the best. At least this way, I wasn't complicit in my own torment.

He shackled my wrists above my head, then operated a control panel that pulled my knees in toward my chest and tilted my ass up just slightly. He lowered the table to align my ass with his penis, which he had pulled free of his fly and was rubbing with lubricant while he adjusted the table.

"It's best if you try to relax and don't fight me. The more you resist, the more painful it will be," he said.

"Can't you just fuck my pussy instead?"

He didn't bother to respond. He pressed the tip of his finger into my anus, pushed it in, wiggled it around. It didn't hurt, but the sense of intrusion brought a whine of protest anyway. "Please," I gasped, one last feeble attempt to beg for mercy.

He removed his finger and pressed the tip of his penis against my puckered hole. Despite his advice to relax, I resisted, more out of fear than defiance at this point. "You're hurting only yourself, Teresa," he said. "But, I see that you are taking this lesson to heart, so a small favor, to reward your submission."

I wrinkled my forehead, confused.

He backed off and inserted two fingers into my vagina. Expecting the worst, the lack of pain was a surprise, and then his slow, expert stroking stilled the flutters in my belly. "It's all right, Teresa. You can enjoy this."

I swallowed hard, still confused. "What are you—what are you—" I started, then cut off with a grunt when his thumb found my clitoris. I let down my guard just a little. He was much better at this than Kevin, when Kevin even bothered.

"That's a good girl. Relax." His thumb moved in a tight circle, and I moaned in spite of myself. He was better at this than Darryl, too, and I'd spent so much time with Darryl because he made me feel so good, unlike Kevin. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I had to endure Gabe's attentions, I might as well reap the benefit of his experience.

He continued the minute motion of his hand, fingers inside me in just the right spot, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure. Would he let me orgasm? As shameful as my bridal class had been, the orgasm D.O. Jain had given me at the beginning of that ordeal was still the best one I'd ever had.

My breath grew shallow and fast as his fingers began to have an effect. I clenched my stomach muscles and wiggled my hips. I fought my restraints—not to escape but because all the energy had to go somewhere. My eyelids fluttered open, and I caught the smug satisfaction on Gabe's face.

"Good girl," he crooned. "Will you cum on my cock, you little slut?"

Slut. That's what he thought of me. Maybe it was true, if I could let this asshole bring me pleasure. "Fuck you," I muttered, but I couldn't deny the pulsing in my pussy that increased with every pass of his thumb over my clitoris.

He clicked his tongue at me. "Such language." He moved closer, his hand never ceasing its sweet torment, and pressed the head of his penis against my anus again. He waited there, just the tip penetrating, and on my next intake of breath, he pushed forward. I shrieked at the pain, but the initial shock faded as he kept still. "Cum for me, slut," he urged.

I groaned, trying to back away from him, to escape the fullness and pressure of his penis inside me, but my restraints held. He began to thrust, mirroring the strokes of his penis with his fingers in my vagina. He pounded my insides, every reentry flaring the stabbing, burning ache in my ass, then adding to the building tension in my vagina and clitoris when he reached the top of his thrust, then leaving me empty as he withdrew almost all the way before thrusting again.

"Come on, Teresa. I know you like this," he taunted.

I couldn't stop the moans, couldn't stop the orgasm from building, humiliated that I could let him do this to me but amazed by the sensations he produced.

"Maybe you want something bigger than my cock?" he mused. The thought of being stretched even more, of him forcing something in as I screamed made me shake my head violently. "No? Then cum for me, Teresa."

He reached up with his free hand and pinched my nipple, twisting savagely. Momentarily distracted from his penis in my ass, I bucked and writhed, pain lancing through my breast. When he let go, I screamed something incoherent and came hard, shuddering and sweating, throat raspy, eyes tearing.

He withdrew his fingers but treated me to several more powerful thrusts of his penis, driving deep into me as I came down from the orgasm. When I opened my eyes, he pulled out, smirking.

"Well, that was interesting, wasn't it?" He patted my knee almost affectionately. "I trust I won't see you in here again, Teresa?" He tucked himself into his pants and began releasing me from the table.

"No."

"Good." He helped me lower my legs of jelly from the stirrups and cocked his head. "I feel I should punish you for cursing at me, but I admit I rather liked it."

I wisely kept my mouth shut.

He nodded. "All right. You're free to return to your husband. Know that if your misbehavior continues, the consequences will, by necessity, be much more harsh. The Home is not out of the question for a repeat offender in a case like yours."

"I understand," I said, though I wasn't certain that my miserable life with Kevin would be better than being sent to the Home. Maybe I would petition for divorce after all. I sat up and slid to the floor. "Um, you cut my clothes off," I said. Surely he didn't expect me to walk home in just my underwear.

"Ah. Yes. Put your panties on. Your skirt is untouched." He moved away to open one of the drawers in his cabinet. I snatched up my clothes and practically dove into them. He returned with a hideous, orange t-shirt. "You can wear this. I'll have Kevin come get you. Come." I put the shirt on, grateful for its coverage if not its color, and allowed Gabe to lead me out of his room of horrors.

****

I watched Kevin usher Teresa away with an arm around her shoulders. Their body language was clear. They didn't like each other at all. His profession of love for her was an act for his father. Kevin wouldn't shame the Commissioner by divorcing his wife. I believed her, too, that he was sleeping around, though I couldn't tell her that. I did wonder if the women were from the Home or if we had a bigger problem on our hands. I'd keep an ear out for anything suspicious from the unwed women in town.

I smoothed my shirt and leaned against the wall. I had enjoyed that session far more than usual. Teresa was feisty. Fun. Beautiful. I hadn't planned to give her that orgasm, but I'd taken such pleasure in subduing her that I wanted to see if I could make her cum.

I couldn't have her, of course. If I were to marry, I'd want a virgin. Someone untouched. Someone I could control. But if Teresa ended up back in my Discipline Room, I wouldn't be at all sorry. And if she was sent to the Home? So much the better.

I called down to Jain to bring me my next appointment. I had a long day ahead of me.