Chapter 2

When Martina emerged from the bedroom she was a hot mess. Her hair was wet and stringy where she had washed off her tears, snot and vomit. She emerged barefoot in the simple cotton sundress her husband had laid out for her. The makeup that he required she wear was mostly wiped off, but most who knew her would claim she was more beautiful without makeup anyway.

She put on a fake smile as she trudged through the process of making fresh lemonade for the yard workers. Placing three full glasses on the tray, she carefully exited the sliding door to the patio where her husband stood conversing with the burly men.

" ... tight as your clenched fist. Tighter than her ass, or any other woman's ass I've fucked!" Drew laughed deeply and the men joined in, though they were facing the young wife and their eyes were devouring her lithe beauty as she approached.

She knew that he was talking about her, boasting about her in a crude, abusive way. She tried to ignore it as she served the men their beverages.

"I was bragging on you, Martina. I don't think they believed me, though." Drew took the drink in one hand and wrapped his other arm around his wife as she turned to go, hugging her reluctantly against him. "Tell you what, babe, why don't you let them fuck you and they'll know I'm not lying?"

The men both held their breaths as Martina answered, in a barely audible whisper. "No, Drew, please don't make me."

"Aww, honey, you told me you wanted to ... were you lying then or are you lying now?" His attitude started to darken.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm not lying now, please don't."

"Well boys, I guess you won't be sampling this today," he grumbled, squeezing her against his body, lifting her easily off her feet for a moment.

Drew took her shoulders in both hands and held her in place as he stared into her eyes with an growing anger. "You embarrassed me in front of these men, Martina. I told them how tight your pussy is and got them all excited about fucking you and you said no."

"I'm sorry, Drew. I just don't want anyone but you. I don't know why you want to make me into a whore. I'm your wife. I love you. Don't you love me?"

His face had turned red. "Of course I love you, stupid bitch. And if you loved your husband you'd do as he says. You're going to have to learn."

He took her by the wrist and led her over to the gardening bench on the edge of the patio, not too far from where the men were working. He stood next to the bench and removed his long, wide leather belt. "You know what this means?"

She began to cry in earnest. "No, darling, please?"

"Pull down your panties." She hesitated. "The longer you defy me the worse this will be." She reached up under the dress and, as inconspicuously as possible, dropped the white cotton panties down around her ankles.

"Now lay down on the bench, face down." She did as she was told, sobbing pitifully. He pointed to one of the men and told him to hold her arms, and the other he directed to hold her ankles. The wide belt dangled from his right hand and with the other he picked up the discarded panties.

"Open up." He stuffed the wad of white cotton into her mouth to soften her cries. "Before I am done, you'll wish you had done what I wanted and let them fuck you."

Drew pulled up the hem of his wife's dress to expose her beautiful naked ass to the two appreciative workers. He cautioned the man holding her legs, "keep her legs together, since I don't want to accidently bruise her tight little gypsy cunt. Not with my belt, at least."