Learning Her Place Ch. 01

She nodded, still whimpering.

"You'll speak quietly and respectfully, no more yelling?"

She nodded again.

"Do you promise?"

Another nod.

"I need to hear you say it."

"I puh-promise."

"Promise what?"

"I promise to-to do what you say, and, and to not yell and to buh-be r-respectful. I promise." Her last words were a whisper, choked by a sob. Her ass was throbbing in time with her head, and she thought she might throw up again, but was terrified of what he might do if she did.

"Okay," he said, stepping back. "Just this once, I'm going to let you off easy." His tone became sensitive and understanding; in the way one would address a young child. "After all, it's hard not to break the rules if you don't know what they are, right?"

She nodded.

"Right," he said. "So, now that you know at least one of the rules, do you think I can trust you to get up and come have breakfast with me like a proper lady and wife?"

"Yuh-yes."

"Yes what?"

She thought a moment. What did he want her to say? She took a chance. "Y-yes, sir."

"Very good," he said, his voice full of praise. "You figured that out without having to be told." His voice sounded a bit more distant, as though he'd moved away from the bed. "You can get up and come sit now."

She pushed herself up from the bed and saw that he was back in his seat, sipping his coffee and nibbling on some toast, as though this were just a normal morning.

"Sit," he said again.

She sat, wincing slightly at the sharp pain across her ass.

"Have some coffee," he pointed to her cup. "I made it the way you like it."

She looked down, and saw the cup was filled with coffee, and had been mixed with a liberal helping of cream. She assumed there was sugar in it too. Two capsules were on the table next to the cup.

"Aspirin," he said. "For your headache. I assume you have one, right?"

She nodded, but didn't take the capsules and made no move to drink her coffee.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "It really is just aspirin, and there's nothing in the coffee, trust me." He stared deep into her eyes. "You do trust me, don't you?"

She didn't, but knew better than to say so. She was naked and wet, with no clothes and no money. She could scream, but she wasn't sure what he'd do before someone got to the room, if anyone even came. When they were home, when she had clothes and access to some money, then she'd leave. For now, she just said, "Yes- um -yes, sir."

He nodded. "Good. Now, take your aspirin, have some coffee, and let's eat."

He was true to his word. The coffee hadn't been drugged, and the capsules were just aspirin, or, if they weren't, then whatever they were was very effective at curing headaches. When she was done eating, and was on her second cup of coffee, her head wasn't pounding anymore and her stomach had settled down.

"There now," he said. "Feeling better?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "So, now we talk about how things are going to be from now on." He sat back in his chair and looked at her. "I've tried, you know," he said. "I've tried to be a good husband to you, to take care of you and support you and treat you well."

She nodded. Aside from the previous night, he'd been the kindest and most caring man she'd ever met.

"But you," he shook his head. "Well, you haven't been very grateful, or even all that nice to me, have you?"

She shook her head. She had to admit he was right. If someone like him could be driven to do what he'd done last night, it said something about how far she'd pushed him.

"No," he said. "Now, about last night." He sighed. "I honestly wish I hadn't had to do that. You deserved it, and I will admit to some satisfaction at seeing you get what you deserve, but I wish it hadn't been necessary."

She nodded. "Me... me too." Her voice was very quiet, and she looked down at the table.

He smiled again and chuckled. "I'm sure," he said. "So, here's what I'm going to do. I am going to promise to never do anything like that ever again."

She looked up, and he held up his hand.

"Provided," he said, "that you obey the rules, and learn your place. You learn your place and obey the rules, and I won't need to punish you again like I did last night." His voice took on the tone of explaining something to a small child again. "That's what last night was," he said. "It was punishment for your behavior these past few years, but as far as I'm concerned, we start from a clean slate today. Would you like a clean slate?"

She nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Now, I'm sure it's going to take you a little while to learn the rules and to follow them. There are bound to be some... infractions here and there. However," he leaned back in his chair, "I think we can settle those with simple discipline, yes?" he touched the belt, which sat on the table.

Her eyes went wide and she swallowed. "Yuh-yes," she said.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I don't think we'll need to resort to discipline too often, do you?"

"No, sir." She was telling him what he wanted to hear. As soon as she could, she was getting as far from him as possible. In the back of her mind, though, a very small voice asked where she thought she was going to go.

"Okay," he said. "Now for the rules, and the way things are going to be from now on. First," he reached under the table and pulled out a small box, handing it to her. "This is for you."

She opened the box, and inside was a thick leather collar with a large metal ring at the front.

"Put that on," he said. "You'll wear that constantly, unless I tell you that you can take it off."

"But..."

He sighed, reaching for the belt. "The first rule is obedience," he said. "I thought you'd learned that one."

She shrank back, clutching the collar. "I have," she said. "I promise, I have." She held out the collar to him. "I just need help putting it on," she said. "Will... will you help me, sir?"

He smiled and nodded, standing and coming around behind her. He put the collar on her and buckled it closed. It was snug, but not too tight. It was actually very comfortable. She couldn't understand why, but wearing it made her fell much less naked.

"Do you know what that collar means?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"It means you belong to me," he said. "It means you will obey me, and submit to me, and serve me, always." He smiled. "Do you think you can do that?"

She nodded. She reached up and touched the collar, unable to place the odd sensation she was feeling. She could also feel a low-level arousal, which was odd.

"I need you to do more than nod," he said.

"I... I can do that," she said.

"Do what?"

She took a breath. He was going to expect her to be specific with her answers. "I can obey you, and-and submit, and s-serve you," she said. "Always."

He studied her a moment, then frowned. "No," he said finally. "No, that's not good enough either."

She shivered, this time from more than the cold. "What," she stammered, "w-w-what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to want it," he said. "I want to hear you say that you want to serve me, to submit to me and to obey me." He pointed to the collar. "That makes you my slave, and my property," he said. "I want you to appreciate what an honor and a privilege that is. I want you to beg me for the chance to be my slave and my property."

She was speechless. He wanted her to beg him to "let" her be humiliated and degraded like this? She'd never been much of a feminist, but she was a strong independent woman! She didn't have to put up with this!

He smiled, and seemed to be reading her mind. "You think you're strong and independent, don't you?" he asked. "I can see it in your eyes." He shook his head. "You're not. If you were, none of this would have been necessary. A strong, independent woman would have been a loving and supportive partner to me." He sighed, a look of disappointment on his face. "Honestly, that's what I really wanted, but you haven't been that. You've been a whiny, spoiled little bitch, haven't you?"

Her eyes stung with tears. His words hurt, mostly because she knew he was right. She nodded, and then remembered to answer. "Yuh-yes, sir," she said. "I've been a whiny, sp-spoiled little bitch."

"So," he said, "it occurred to me that I was in the wrong when I treated you like a strong, independent supportive partner rather than what you are: helpless, weak, broken, and in need of a firm hand to run your life."

She took a deep shuddering breath. So much of this was what she truly thought about herself, deep down, and it made her a little relieved to have it spoken so openly.

"That collar," he said, "is a symbol of my firm hand. It means you're free of the pressure of having to pretend you can run your own life, make your own decisions, and take care of yourself." He gazed into her eyes, and she saw the deep love she'd seen on their wedding day, when he'd started to cry during their vows. "Doesn't it make you happy," he asked, "to know that you're free of all that?"

She nodded, and she realized that it honestly did.

"Your problem," he said, "is that you lack direction. You think you're supposed to be strong and independent, yet you have no idea what that really means, and so you rebel against me, and the life I've built for you. But now that you understand that you aren't strong, you aren't independent -and now that I know that too- well, you're ready to truly live the life you should be living, right?"

"I am," she said, tears in her eyes. She looked up at him and said, "Please, sir, may I please serve you, and obey you, and submit to you in all things, always? Puh-please, sir, may I please be your slave... and-and-and y-your property?"

He smiled and rose from the table, coming around to take her in his arms. "Of course you may," he said. He kissed her, lightly, on the lips. Then he sighed and stood up. "I'm afraid, though, that your old willfulness will shine through."

She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up his hand.

"No," he said. "It's inevitable. I'm sure, even now, despite everything you've said, you're planning to run away the first chance you get."

She looked down at her lap, her face flushing. She knew it was true. No matter how deep his words cut, no matter how true she knew them to be, she still wanted to be free of him now. That voice in the back of her mind spoke up again, asking just how free she thought she'd be.

He smiled. "Of course you are," he said. "You say the words, and maybe to some extent you mean them-"

"I do," she said, and she was being honest now, but she knew she was still confused about what she really wanted. "I really do."

"I'm willing to believe you think you do," he said, "but it's one thing to say, and another to live. So, first thing's first." He took out his phone and handed it to her. "There's a video cued up. Press play."

She did, and she was treated to a video record of everything she'd done last night. She saw herself half-naked at the bar, dancing and stumbling around, playing the slut for the three men who'd sat next to them. She saw herself in the car, moaning and cumming again and again as the two men had their way with her. She saw the elevator, the hallway, and every single thing she did in the room. As far as she could tell from the video, while she was clearly wasted, she also loved every second of it. It was also very easy to see it was her. Anyone who knew her would identify her immediately.

"The resolution on these new phones really is amazing, isn't it?" her husband said. As the video ended with her taking three strange men at once, he took the phone back. "So," he said, "that exists. And it's been uploaded to my cloud storage and copied to three different remote servers. If I don't enter a code into this phone every day," he tapped at the screen for a few seconds, "like this, then that video starts showing up on fetish porn sites all over the internet under the heading 'Drunk Fat Mature Slut Gangbang' and the URL is posted to every single one of your social media accounts." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I trust you don't want that."

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. Then, almost immediately, she corrected, "N-no, sir."

"Good," he said. "So, now you know, there's no getting out of this. You leave, this video goes viral."

She nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Then this is how it's going to be. One: you no longer have a name. To other people, in public, yes, you'll be known as Melanie. However, at least until I know I can trust you to remember the rules on your own, your time spent in public or around other people will be limited and strictly controlled. So, no name. Now, you also haven't been a very good wife, so I think you are going to have to work very hard to earn that title back, don't you?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Right," he said. "So, until you've earned that title, you'll just be my slut." Then he stepped back. "Stand up," he said.

She stood, and he looked her over, like a farmer inspecting livestock. He grabbed and pinched every roll of fat around her belly and her hips. He lifted one of her sagging tits in his hand, squeezing it roughly before letting it fall back against her flab with a dull slapping noise. He chuckled derisively when this made her fat jiggle.

"Ugh, no," he said. "You don't even deserve to be called 'slut'. I'll be putting you on a strict diet, and a regimen of daily exercise. When you've managed to get back to at least some semblance of what you used to be, or at least aren't so fucking disgusting, I'll start calling you 'slut'. Until then, you're 'pig', or 'cow'. Those are the only two names you'll answer to, understand?"

She nodded, tears running unchecked down her face. He'd never once described her as anything but beautiful, no matter how much weight she'd gained, no matter how much she'd let herself go. Now, this cruel assessment of her... the voice in the back of her head told her she deserved it.

"Okay," he said. "Next, you'll only wear clothes when we leave the house, which won't be often, and I will choose them for you. Otherwise, the only thing you will wear will be your collar."

"Yes, sir," she said when he paused.

"You will spend each day making sure my house is completely spotless," he said, "and I will have a hot meal waiting for me when I get home. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I think that will do for now. We need to get home and get you settled in to your new..." he snapped his fingers. "No, one more thing. Your body is mine," he said, "and I'll make use of it when I like. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, sir," she said. "It would make your pig very happy any time you make use of this fat disgusting body." She was shocked at how quickly the words came to her, at how true they sounded and how honest it felt to say them.

He smiled. "Then why don't you come and suck your owner's cock, pig."

She knelt in front of him, unzipped his pants, and took his already hard cock into her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and shoved his cock down her throat, and proceeded to fuck her mouth until he came, forcing her to swallow. He stood, zipped up his pants, and patted her on the head.

"That's a good cow," he said. "You're doing very well."

She was ashamed at the swell of pride she felt at his words. Already she felt her old self slipping away, felt herself becoming nothing more than his willing slave. She hated herself for admitting it, but she knew she was happier this way.

"Okay," he said. "Put this on." He tossed her a high-necked long dress. "Time to go home." As she got dressed, he smiled.

"Then we can really get started."