Chapter 5

“Master, this macaroni salad is actually quite good ... Did you make it?” Tamara seemed to rely on flattery rather than complaints or threats right then.

“No, I did. Don’t worry, though. Now that we have you two slaves, you’ll both get to taste your own cooking, as you will be expected to cook a lot. It’s one of your duties as slaves, don’t you agree?” Wendy answered with a slap to Jordan’s tush right in front of his ex-wife.

“And to serve us ... and set the table and things of that nature. Washing dishes. I’m going to especially enjoy fucking Tamara and you while Jordan does the dishes or cleans the garage or something like that. I might do that just within earshot, at least once, so he can hear your or his ex-wife’s ashes getting hauled while he has to sweat it in the hot desert sun. Then when he’s thirsty enough, he might get to drink my creampie straight from those holes,” I taunted Jordan with at least the threat of being tormented like that.

I wanted to reinforce in Jordan’s mind that not only did he not own Tamara, but I actually did. Lock, stock, and barrel. She was my chattel, my property. I could and would use her as often as I wished, even flaunting that fact in his face. I wanted to humiliate the guy and rub it in his face that he had no guarantees that he’d ever get to put his dick back inside her, while I could have her on demand.

Worse still for Jordan, he didn’t even own his body. He had no rights, not even to masturbate now. He was entirely Wendy’s possession, to be used as she deemed fit. He had no say about any sex life he might or might not ever have or enjoy again. If Wendy wanted to sodomize him every time she had a fight with me, she was within her rights to lash out and take it out on him. If she wanted him to eat her ass while I plowed her ... or Tamara, Jordan had to comply. If she opted to dress him as a French maid and have him do all household chores, he would have no recourse against her whims.

“I might make him wash the bedsheets after long nights of hot, sweaty sex, cleaning up all of those bodily fluids that we left behind. Or maybe make him sleep on the wet spot after you pound us. All three of us, that is. I still want to watch you bugger him whenever it suits you, too. I doubt that I’ll ever tire of that.

“Or of Tamara and me ... and other ladies pegging him whenever I please. He needs to get used to his sex life being ... all about oral and anal. He needs to embrace the pussy-free lifestyle. Well, free of fucking pussy, that is. Not free of licking it! I don’t like the idea of little Jordans roaming around, anyway. It’s much better to keep him chaste as he should be. Maybe let him jerk off now and then as a reward or something, but he has no business tapping some twat,” Wendy winked at me while slapping Jordan on the butt.

“Yep, he was made to get fucked in the ass, not put his little pecker in a pussy at all,” I chuckled, further humiliating Wendy’s plaything.

“Well, this is the only pussy he really needs ... the boi pussy, the one behind him. The one that he sits on too much for his own good. If I want a cock other than yours in me, I can get plenty around here. I don’t need his little wiener, do I? To say nothing of strap-on dildos. He’s there to eat me, bend over for my strap-on and thigh harness, get walked on a leash if it suits me, do menial and domestic chores, dress as I wish, fluff for us, and service you sexually as well. And to entertain guests, of course.

“Who knows? He might get lucky and a guest might let him into her honeypot, but he shouldn’t count on it, especially not from Tamara or me. Tell me, Tamara, do you honestly miss his dick inside you? Or do you enjoy getting it more from Wayne and maybe even more from me? Tell the truth and shame the devil! What do you feel about the thought of Jordan never putting that stick of his inside you or another woman’s pussy again?” Wendy confronted my ex-wife turned slave.