Danielle's Revenge Redux

It was another month before I felt I could afford to dig the well. I rented the gear, cost me over $2 grand for three days. The good news was we knew the ground water wasn't deep. The original cabin well was barely 120' down. Ours was 170' but that still wasn't bad. The pump was well camouflaged underground. Danielle was ecstatic, and we probably burned through half a tank of propane, while I used her under the hot running water. I was glad I'd invested as much energy as I did in the drainage.

I was nervous as the summer visitors started using their properties. I used a variety of trails to get to our place, and the vines and thorns planted around the perimeter were likely to detour the curious. By mid June, I was feeling confident. I'd seen no indication of anyone around the back of the property, as I'd suspected. I'd sometimes spy on the cabin when my family came up. They lived more than two hours away and their visits were infrequent, but when they did, it was usually for a week at a time. I'd always been the most frequent user.

By July, we spent much of the weekend days above ground. She had begged and pleaded, and I'd folded, eventually buying her yet another alpaca fur rug. This one she'd carefully tacked a heavy woolen blanket to the back, providing another six inches of coverage all around. She liked to bring her blanket up during the day. There was a clearing above our bunker, which got a mixture of sun and shade. She'd place the rug in the shade, and tend the small vegetable gardens she'd finagled her way into planting.

I wasn't happy about that part. Hiding the presence of the bunker was one of my key goals. She argued, successfully I might add, that the dense brush and labyrinthine thorn and vines enclosed the whole area. If anyone got past that, they'd see the entrance anyway. The gardens made it seem like there was less to hide.

She tended her plants diligently, wearing nothing but her straw hat. Oh yeah, I got her one of those too. I couldn't resist using her occasionally, when I wasn't working on one of my projects. The latest was a small gazebo, which I thought was really pushing the boundaries.

"But once it's covered with the vines, it'll be virtually invisible!" she pleaded. Of course, I was balls deep in her ass, while she bounced on my lap, when she made her request.

She clung to me, purring. "I'm such a bad wife, baby, making all these requests. Punish me, Rick. Punish me good."

It wasn't all fun and games. I still got pissed. A lot less once I'd gotten rid of the presence of Ramone, the constant reminder of her heinous betrayal and treachery. When I did blow my cool, I'd pull out her chains, and anchor her to the ceiling ring. Spank her whoring ass, fuck it dry, and take her clothes and things away. For three days once, when she said she wanted to go to her sister's wedding, and wouldn't let it go.

I once bound her feet and hands, no cuffs, but using the cruel zip-ties. Duct-taped her mouth, and threw her out in the grass. Raped her ass raw a couple of times, and left her there, while I went and ran some errands. Brought back some food and ate it in front of her, before fucking her cheating whoring ass again. I used my belt on her, for the first time. I didn't retrieve her until dawn, and she was shaking uncontrollably.

It took me a while to remove the ticks, and treat the chigger bites. She was curled in the shower basin, sobbing. I had no sympathy for her.

"You mention the bastard's name again, and I will release you. Just like I did him."

She'd had the gall to ask me if I'd heard anything about Ramone. I hadn't, and doubted I ever would. But she should have known better than to ask. Wondering about him! Reminding me of what a whore she'd been.

Two more days on the chain, had her docile and properly repentant. When I released her, I bathed her and brushed her hair.

"Never mention him again, Dani," I whispered. "I can't take it."

She turned and hugged me. "I don't give a fuck about him, I'm worried that some day they might come looking for you. I can't lose you. I can't."

I held her, and let her cry, then finished cleaning her up. I'd made steaks for us, and opened a bottle of wine. "Happy Anniversary, Danielle."

"Today?"

I nodded. "July 29th."

She scrambled out of her chair, and started searching under the bed. I knew what it was. I allowed her no secrets. I pretended I didn't.

"Happy Anniversary, my love," she whispered, handing the bundle to me.

I opened it up, and shook out the hand-knit sweater inside. It had a matching cap. I examined it, critically. I was surprised she could make anything that nice and intricate. "It's beautiful, Danielle."

"Try it on," she pleaded.

It fit well, and I modeled it for her. She looked absurdly happy. I wore it during dinner, careful not to mess it up. I think she was pleased. I brought out the chunk of our wedding cake I'd brought from the home freezer, and waited patiently for the tears to stop. We shared the small piece feeding each other.

While she cleaned the dishes, I retrieved the last of her gifts from the ATV. "Don't peek," I told her, while I drove six screws into the wall.

"Alright, you can look."

It was our wedding picture, framed in the same rough wood as the rest of our retreat, which I'd screwed directly into the wall. She came up beside me, and I felt her hand slip into mine. We stood quietly, looking at the image of our promises to each other, which had gone so far astray.

"Punish me, husband?" she asked softly.

"Proudly, wife."

I punished her mouth, and her cheating ass hard. Then I took her to bed, and we punished each other, slowly, gently and at great length. Again sometime during the night. And the next morning. I didn't even turn away when she kissed me. It was our anniversary after all.

~ * ~ * ~

She was nervous when I arrived home. She should be. It was our other anniversary. One year since her jealous insanity and overreaction destroyed our lives. I'd had a hard day. My workload in the office tended to ebb and flow. Things were hectic, and I had a hard time keeping my mind focused on what mattered.

My boss called me in to his office. "You have to ease up," he told me.

"Ease up, how?"

"You're working yourself into the ground. You've been a bear these last couple of days. I understand. I do, I remember how you were when she left you a year ago. A year ago tomorrow, isn't it?"

I nodded.

He was sympathetic. "You seemed to be recovering in the last few months, but yesterday and today have been ugly. Everyone's walking around on eggshells. Take a couple of days off, alright? On us. Comp time. Try to relax, unwind. Make it a long weekend, and try to come in refreshed next Monday."

"Alright. I'm sorry if I've been a bear, I haven't even noticed. It must be subconscious."

"I understand. We need you at your best. Come back and give it to us next week. Have a great weekend if you can."

"I'll try."

I wasn't in the best of moods, that evil day on my mind. As I walked into our underground home, she was waiting for me, naked on her knees, her little blowjob rug laid out nice and neat. The table was set for dinner. She handed me my beer, and started her traditional greeting.

I was tempted to tear into her, but I struggled to keep my tongue in check. She was good, she always was nowadays, and had me feeding her after a few minutes of diligent effort.

She stood, hugged me, and took me by the hand. I let her lead me to the couch where I sat, under her encouragement. She laid across my lap, firm naked butt raised. She reached under the edge of the couch, and started passing things to me. My slipper. Her hair brush. The kitchen spatula. A tree branch, denuded. Another with the bark intact. A belt. She was shaking when she whispered. "Permission to speak?"

It surprised me. I hadn't been insisting on that since we'd moved into her place. "Speak."

"Punish me. Truly, not with pleasure. Punish me for being an evil whore. It was one time, but one time too many. Punish me, my husband."

I'm not a good man. I've never claimed I was. I was angry, an anger which I thought had mostly dissipated, but not completely, I guess. I started with my hand. One at a time I tried all of her suggestions, at least a half dozen strokes with each. She screamed and kicked her legs, tried to cover up. Her sweet little ass was red and covered with welts. Bleeding from a few different places. The tree branch with the bark on it turned out to be truly vicious. I gave her 10 with that one. It snapped in half on the last stroke.

She was well broken when I finished with her. I carried her limp body to the bed, washed her bottom carefully, applying a little Neosporin where I'd broken the skin. I lotioned up her bottom, caressing it. I had to admit, it was a source of great pleasure, and it hurt me to damage it.

"Every year," she whispered. "I need you to remind me ever year."

I lubed up my cock, and entered her ass as gently as I could. She groaned, and then cried while I punished her our traditional way. When I was finished, I held her in my arms, and kissed her face.

"Thank you for making it better," she said softly, hugging me close.

I nodded, caressing her back.

"I'm afraid Rick," she said.

"Your punishment is done," I told her.

"No, I have something I have to tell you. I'm afraid you'll be angry."

"I won't know until I hear it," I explained.

"I... I think I'm pregnant."

The words hit me hard. I had restrained from using her pussy much the first six or seven months, only a half-dozen times altogether. That had changed a little once we'd moved into the bunker. A lot on our true anniversary. "Are you sure?"

"I should probably take a test. Pretty sure. I've missed two periods. Some morning sickness. I... I think it was our anniversary."

I smiled. "Quite the night as I recall."

"You're not angry?"

"You're my wife, you should carry my children."

"I'll need things. Prenatal vitamins. I should see a doctor."

"You want to keep it, if it's true?"

"More than anything."

I kissed her. That cheating, whoring, cock-sucking mouth that had betrayed me. I kissed her and rubbed her belly. "What's for dinner?"

She smiled. "Burgers and chips. Nothing fancy. Not really a day for celebration."

"The day I learn I may be a father?"

The bitch was consistent. Give her an inch, she'll take a mile. She kissed me. Deeply, and damn it, I didn't stop her.

"Let's wait for the pregnancy test to celebrate."

~ * ~ * ~

The next morning she was poking me to get up. "You're going to be late."

"I'm not going in today," I told her, rolling over and pulling her onto me.

"Why not?"

"I need an excuse to spend time with my little whore?"

She let me use her, and shared a shower with me. "I need to run some errands. Need anything?"

"Pregnancy test," she said grinning.

"On the list, anything else?"

She blushed, embarrassed. "What?"

"I have a craving."

"Craving?"

She nodded.

"For...?"

"Fried chicken. Spicy, preferably Popeyes."

"Popeyes! That's 30 minutes away!"

She pouted. "If you go to the Wal-Mart there, you can pick up everything. Please, Rick? Please? I haven't had fried chicken in, God, well, before we got married! Almost a year and a half."

"The diner has good chicken," I told her.

She looked up at me with her big sad eyes. A look she hadn't tried on me in a long, long time. "It's not me, it's the baby. The baby wants it."

Almost two hours later, I was looking at the two positive pregnancy readings, while she devoured her fourth piece of chicken.

I was trying to figure out what to do. I'd certainly painted myself in a corner. My own fault. How could I forget, what we did was how babies were made. I could have put her on the pill, used condoms, a diaphragm, something.

She was watching me, as I ate the two wings. She'd already polished off both breasts and the thighs. She was eyeing my drumsticks.

"You're mad, aren't you?" she said sadly.

"No. I'm not. Just thinking."

She glanced at my drumsticks again, then climbed off her chair. She wiped her face and hands, then grabbed my arm. "Come, celebrate being a Daddy."

She headed for the bed, but stopped and dragged me down to her old fur rug. Pulled my t-shirt and shorts off. She was energetic and loving, all kisses and hugs while she fucked my brains out. I had to be careful of her butt, so she stayed on top, and I let her do the work.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?" she asked, during our down time before round two.

"I think you can be anything you want to be, Danielle."

"I... I want to tell my Mom," she said, before returning to sucking me back to life.

"By the end of the weekend. Let me think on it."

"You can share your thoughts with me," she said softly.

"Not yet."

The next morning, I was the one chasing her out of bed. I got my first experience of her morning sickness, but half an hour later she was polishing off the drumsticks from the day before. I saw it now. She had a glow to her. Her breasts were glorious, her skin almost shining with life. She caught me looking at her, and grinned. "Punish me?"

I laughed, and pressed her over the table, taking her from behind. "Why do I think it's not the punishment it once was."

"But it is, Rick! I'm a naughty girl, and I need my man to keep me on the straight and narrow."

I spanked her bruised bottom, and she shrieked in surprise.

She was rocking with my strokes, and her hands reached back and stopped me. "In my ass, Rick. I need you in my ass. Remind me what a fool I was for ever denying it to you. My ass is yours, baby. Now and for always."

I acceded to her demands, and moved my cock to the other hole. She purred as I entered her. "Pound it baby. Pound your whore. Rape my ass and fill me with your hot cum."

I had mixed feelings when I heard her words. She never talked dirty to me. She hadn't before her escapade, and hadn't since. Only to him. But now she was saying them to me. I believe she was trying to make a statement.

"You like that, you slut? Fucking that dirty ass?"

"God yes. Stretching my filthy butt-hole, filling me, making me take it. I want your cum, baby. Your hot cum in my ass. In my pussy. All over me. I want to be your filthy cum-slut whore."

She looked back at me, and I saw a mix of nervousness and excitement. "You are my cum-slut whore. You don't get a choice. Mine, and only mine."

She nodded, gasping. "Always. Only yours. Anything you want."

"No shit," I growled, slapping her reddened cheeks a few times.

I was surprised when she came hard from it. "God, you are such a slut, Danielle. Coming from an ass fucking, and having your tortured bottom spanked?"

She whimpered sweetly as I pounded her harder, the table shifting underneath us. Came for me again as I exploded inside her, painting her bowels.

I pulled out of her, and pulled her to her knees. She looked up at me nervously. "Baby?"

I glared at her. She reached forward, touching my cock softly. "While I'm pregnant, would it be Ok, if I cleaned you first, after you've been in my butt? For safety's sake?"

God, this pregnancy thing was going to be a pain. "Alright."

She hurried off and returned with a warm wet face cloth. She cleaned me carefully, then gave me a short sucking. "Perfect," she announced.

"Go shower," I told her.

When she returned I had her surprise from the car. "Open it."

She opened the bag, and looked at me in shock, uncomprehending. "Get dressed. We're going out."

She eagerly dressed herself in the clothing, hesitating at the panties. "I don't want this. I need to always be available to you."

I laughed. "Put them on. I'll rip them off if I want."

She finished getting dressed, then disappeared to the bathroom, and finished up. She was stunning when she appeared.

"God, Danielle, you've never been more beautiful."

She smiled, and slid into my arms. "Where are you taking me?"

"Any cravings?"

She blushed. "Pizza and ice cream?"

"Both?"

"One at a time is fine."

In the pizza restaurant, she insisted on sitting beside me. She had refused to remove her collar. Nothing I could say would make her change her mind. I threatened to beat her. "Whip me, but be careful of the baby, alright?" She got her way.

She stacked two slices, and was halfway done with them. I'd barely started on mine. "I'm taking you home," I said.

"Of course. After we eat. I love being punished on a full belly."

"No, Danielle. Our other home, in town."

She looked up nervously. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, but you're going to have our baby. It's time for you to reappear. You'll be repentant, I'll be forgiving. We'll work out our differences. I'll be the wimp that raises another man's son. We'll keep a low profile, and slowly reconnect with our families."

"Is that what you want?" she asked, stacking her next two slices.

"Save room for ice-cream," I reminded her. She nodded.

"We'll have to come up with a story," I said.

"That's easy," she said. "You don't have to be the one to come up with anything. You've been the loyal, faithful husband, waiting for his selfish, adulterous wife to return. I'll tell them of my adventures, my mistakes, my realization that I had ruined the best thing in the world, and the torturous task of telling them what happened, and how hard it was to find the courage to come home."

She wiped her mouth, and started eating my crusts. "But you're not raising another man's child. Not my husband."

"They're going to know you're pregnant."

"I'll tell them we've been in contact. I begged you to meet me a few weeks ago. You did, and we got together. We've been negotiating my return for a month."

"They'll want to know why you didn't call. Why I didn't say anything."

"I wouldn't until the deal was done. Once I'd agreed to your demands concerning our reconciliation, it was Ok. We can call them this weekend."

"What demands?"

"Oh, you'll have a lot sweetie. Absolute faithfulness, for one. Complete availability to your carnal desires. A DNA test for the child. You'll make me wear your collar, to show everyone who I belong to."

"I'm not making you wear a collar, Danielle."

"The hell you aren't!" she snapped. "I will or I won't go."

"You'll do whatever the hell I tell you," I growled.

She snuggled up close. "Please, baby. It makes me feel safe. We can get another one, maybe a little less ostentatious, but I want your collar. Don't deny me this. Anything else, but not this."

"Small, and no inscription."

"The inscription can be on the inside, Honey."

I surrendered. "Ice cream?"

"Baskin Robbins, World Class Chocolate."

~ * ~ * ~

We turned our little world on its ear that Saturday. She was horrified at the state of the place. Her sister and mother came over, and I tried to keep out of their way. A few hours into it her mom cornered me.

"I understand Rick, but you could have called me. I would have kept it a secret."

"She insisted. I couldn't chance messing things up."

She hugged me. "Thank you. I know it will be difficult. You ever need a friendly ear, or shoulder to lean on, you can call me."

I gave her a squeeze. "I know."

She looked up at me, grinning. "Some, uh, surprising conditions. Not that she doesn't deserve them. I still don't understand what she could have been thinking."

She left me to wonder what was being said, while the vacuum ran, the washer and dryer worked incessantly, and dinner was cooked.

Her sister Teri was looking cute and disheveled. She surprised the shit out of me by flopping in my lap, while I was sitting on the couch. "You're a better man than I am."

I reached up and shook her breasts. "No kidding."

She looked at me stunned, and I felt myself blushing. I guess the casual sex for the last year may have screwed up my social graces. I was waiting to be read the riot act, and she slowly grinned, then reached down and grabbed my balls. "Quite a set you've grown. I guess you had to, to deal with her shit."