Sale 50% off
"I'm glad you're still open, Tom, I need another dozen of those M6 brass bolts I bought the other day, I thought you might have closed as it's late on a Saturday afternoon and New Year's Day."
"Got to get ready for the sales on Monday and if that woman doesn't get a move on, we'll be here till midnight. I suppose it won't be long before she decides she needs to go into the kitchen to cook or something and I'll have to finish it off myself, as usual. Probably have to do some more tomorrow while she sits in the office supposedly going through the books but half the time I think she dozes off." I looked around and noticed his wife, Betty, putting 'Sale' signs on various items.
I'd known the couple since our schooldays but when we left in 1990 our paths didn't cross again until four years ago when I became redundant as a joiner and started work as a shop fitter. One of the first jobs was for alterations to Redman's Hardware Store. Tom Redman's pessimistic, dour attitude hadn't improved in the intervening years and his wife largely bore the brunt of his ill humour and several times when he rebuked her while customers were in the shop, I wondered why she'd put up with it for so long but she let his comments flow over her head and carried on in her own way and seemingly ignored them. My job as a shop fitter didn't last long and having inherited a house from an aunt, I sold it and bought a redundant bakery that I converted the ground floor into a workshop where I now make bespoke joinery but with only minor alterations, retained the living accommodation on the floor above.
While Tom found the bolts and priced them, I turned towards Betty and saw she'd hung a 'SALE 50% off' card around her neck and when Tom returned I tried to provoke him into giving one of his misery tirades, "How much for that item, Harry?"
Typically he answered in his miserly way, "That lazy bitch ain't worth much, costs more to keep her than I get out of her in work."
"So would her regular price be about a grand?"
"I doubt I'd get that much for her."
"Okay, as the tag says 50% off, I'll give you £500 cash." Betty's eyes opened wide but she grinned doubtless thinking it all a big joke.
Maybe Tom did too because his reply shocked Betty, "If you can put £500 in cash in my hand, you can take her."
"Make out a proper receipt and I'll be back in a few minutes. You better start packing Betty."
She didn't move but said, "Maybe a change will do me good," and smiled again.
I went to the hole-in-the-wall machine and to their surprise, returned with the cash and obtained the handwritten receipt on Redman's Hardware Store headed notepaper.
1st January 2011
Received from Harry Costner the sum of £500 in respect of the sale (compensation) of my wife, Betty Redman.
Paid in full with thanks,
Signed: Thomas Redman
The word 'sale' had been crossed out and 'compensation' added above the line with an insert arrow and initialled but being excited at the prospect of having a woman after so many years of bachelorhood, I hardly noticed the change or worried over the reasons for it.
Betty stood next to her husband, the sign still around her neck, when I returned and handed him the money. "We can take this off now," I grinned when I removed the sign and picked her up and gave her a hug and a kiss, "Come on, let's go and pack your stuff."
"But you can't ... we have to get ready for the sales..." Even with the money in his grasp, I'm sure Tom still believed his wife wouldn't go with me but with that much cash in his hands, cash that wouldn't go through the books, cash he didn't wish to return, the Midas man only put on a show of reluctance to let her go, possibly thinking she'd be back again the next day. I intended to see that didn't happen. Thinking back to my school days and how much I fancied her then and how, although bigger and stronger than all the others in my class, shyness had deterred me from asking her out; I didn't intend making the same mistake again. Much later, sometime in the late 1990's, I heard she'd taken up with Tom after she finished at college and on the rebound of a boyfriend breakup rather than real love, believing she'd be well looked after when he took over his father's hardware business but sadly for her, it proved a misconception.
I waved the receipt, "I've bought and paid for her, she's my property now."
"Does that mean I'm now your slave?" she asked quietly when we were alone in her bedroom.
"Of course," I laughed and she knew I didn't mean it, "I paid a lot of money for you and..." mimicking Tom's whining voice, " ... I'll have the expense of keeping you."
"And will I be whipped if I misbehave?"
"No, but I'll smack your bum and I'll fuck you hard afterwards. You won't be sleeping in a separate room at my place either."
A slave in name only
"What's going to happen to us?" she asked when we sat half watching the TV but with our minds on the situation, a situation new to both of us. Noticing a tear fall, I hugged her close. "He'll soon find he cannot manage alone and certainly won't cope with the bookkeeping and will demand me to come back. Will you give me back to him? I'm still a married woman."
Before replying I kissed her and felt her respond and for a few minutes we acted as though we were lovesick teenagers, "Betty dear, you're here to stay unless we find we are really incompatible. We'll collect the rest of your stuff in the morning and spend the day arranging things to suit us. From the mess you see around, it is obvious I wasn't expecting visitors but even if you are my 'slave' you won't have to do all the clearing up. Now let's go in the bedroom so I can find out what my purchase is like under all those clothes."
In fact we stopped in the bathroom first and undressed each other ready for a shower. "You don't think I'm too fat?" she asked when I stood admiring her naked body.
"Certainly not, you're not even plump, just full-figured." At 5 feet 7 inches she stood about 6 inches shorter than me but I didn't see that as a problem and certainly I liked her round face surrounded by dark, fairly straight, shoulder length hair, her full breasts and the luxurious growth of pubic hair. "Do you like what you see?"
"Yep. Compared to Tom you are a muscle man, big in body and big in the prick department. I trust you will treat your slave gently when we get to bed because it is several years since I've had sex and Tom is quite small and takes only a few minutes before he shoots his load and it's all over and he's ready to go to sleep.
With all our playing in the shower, we were both eager and ready to fuck but I still took it slowly and held myself back as long as I could before sending my seed into her and, being naturally slow to ejaculate, she orgasmed twice before I withdrew my prick.
"Are you on the pill?" I asked belatedly.
"Of course. Tom wouldn't agree to us having children and even when we stopped having sex, he still insisted on seeing me take it each morning, 'just in case'. What about you? Would you like to have children?"
"Yes, lots of them, well at least two, but I think we ought to get to know each other better before making that decision. It's the New Year now, how about we wait until Easter and if we are still together, as I hope we will be, then we'll try for a baby, and I will trust you to take the pills until then without me watching," I suggested cautiously. That answer effectively ended her marriage to Tom. For a while we cuddled close and talked quietly of the future and our past lives but slowly we drifted off to sleep only to wake early from the strangeness of being alongside another person. We fucked again after, in my best master's voice, I ordered her to open her legs. For a short while she pretended to be a poorly treated slave but I hardly entered her before she enthusiastically thrust back. I withdrew and we kissed and then slept until breakfast time.