Chapter 11

Janice draped herself around her husband as he flicked on the news. A stupid reality show was just ending and a young girl was complaining about being kicked-off too early. Janice pictured the petite brunette bound and struggling; a gag silencing her whining. Now THAT would be a show ... call it 'Predators and Prey' or something like that. The losers became slaves.

The blonde smiled at the thought.

She hadn't bothered dressing and was still wearing her polished brass collar and cuffs. The cuffs now looked like thick bracelets now that they weren't fastened together. She was sure that by the time she and her husband, Ray, retired to the bedroom things would change. For now, however, she was comfortable with being free.

The first story of the night was, of course, the abduction of the Double Barrel Ale twins. Ransom demands hadn't been made yet and the newscasters feared the worst. The police released a really grainy photo of Ray and herself dressed like officers; probably some security camera footage. Her husband and she looked like millions of other couples nationwide.

"Flattering picture of you," Ray, her husband, said in his low southern drawl.

"I don't know. It really isn't my good side."

"And what is your good side, my dear?"

Janice wriggled herself against him and whispered in his ear, "We'll have to go to the bedroom to find out."

The blonde slipped her hand down between her husband's legs and felt his cock starting to harden. She grasped the tab of his jeans' zipper and zipped it open. Reaching in, she pulled his underwear aside and began to stroke his engorged cock.

"I hope you saved a little bit of yourself for me," Janice purred.

"Always save the best for last," he replied, turning off the television with the remote.

Janice straddled her husband, facing him so that she was looking deeply into his blue-grey eyes as she continued to stroke his member. Even though the sex on the dinner table was great, she was hungry for more. The remainder of the salve he massaged into her was still causing her sex to itch wantonly.

"Does slave please her Master?"

"Yes she does," Ray said, closing his eyes, leaning back and enjoying her touch.

Ray's blonde-haired wife gently masturbated him, making sure she didn't make him cum. She knew all of his little signs: the little growl in the back of his throat, his hands gripping her more tightly and his whole body seeming as rigid as a steel beam. And he nearly always closed his eyes.

Janice also knew not to tease him too much.

She maneuvered herself forward and eased his cock into herself; lowering herself onto him until he was fully inside of her before she started rocking her hips. For Janice, there was no substitute for having Ray's manhood inside of her; the heated feeling of his flesh against hers. It was feeling no vibrator could match.

Her husband began to match her rhythm. His warm hands grasped her hips as she rocked and moaned. The desire within her was also building; the tinder starting to catch into flame as she pumped faster and faster.

Suddenly, he grabbed Janice to himself and shoved her back into the couch. Grabbing her wrists, he forced them above her head as he drove forcibly into her again and again. Her hot, churning need thrashing inside her as he violently rammed into her. She moaned deeply as she clamped her teeth into his neck. She needed a ball gag; something she could really bite into...

Ray pushed himself deeply inside of her as he let out a guttural growl. Janice felt him spray into her as her wanton craving crested inside of her in a molten wave of pure bliss. She continued to buck and writhe beneath him, riding their pleasure until she felt him withdraw and ease himself down beside her.

They laid there for a while, cradled in their own private thoughts. Janice's fingertips brushed over the hair on his chest as she listened to him breathe.

"Did slave please her master?" she asked, looking for the answer in his eyes.

"No," he replied.

Janice was taken aback, "Master?"

Ray looked at his wife sternly, "Slave, you came without permission."

Janice looked down, avoiding his eyes.

"You will have to be punished. Stand."

The blonde woman uncurled herself from around her husband and stood up beside the couch nervously. She continued to look down. She knew her Master was right. He hadn't given her permission to orgasm. Perhaps deep down inside she really wanted to be bound and punished and to be the sole focus of his attentions.

"Turn."

Ray watched as his wife gracefully obeyed his order. She had read and lived Dr. Brand's book 'The Care and Treatment of Particularly Fair Women' and voluntarily adhered to its doctrine. She knew its every command and had actually competed from time to time in Magenta's annual competition where Masters and Mistresses could display their trained slaves. She had even placed once. Janice's every movement showed her prowess in learning her subservience.

"Turn."

Janice did as she was told. Ray admired his wife's figure. She was almost as tall as Ray and had slender, elegant curves. Her legs were long and well-toned. Her hips flared nicely, narrowing into a trim waistline whose tone had not diminished with her age. Her breasts were not large but graced her figure beautifully. Each nipple was pointed and fully erect, needing his touch. Her skin glistened from their shared efforts.

His wife presented her crossed wrists to him.

The brass cuff on each wrist gleamed as Ray found the catch in each one. With a slight click, the hasps opened. These were a present from Magenta, antiques from the original school where Dr. Brand taught slaves in Victorian England. They were as priceless as his wife. There was no key, only a combination that Ray was the sole possessor of. Ray suspected his wife might know it, but she never let on that she did.

Ray linked the hasps together and clicked them shut, trapping Janice's hands in front of her. Her ankle cuffs were designed the same way. He locked them together as well. Janice never looked up, her blonde hair falling down over her face.

Ray got up and found Janice's lead. Though her brass collar was the same vintage as her cuffs, the chain was something Ray had bought to match them. He clicked the leash's catch onto her collar and gave it a slight tug. She followed, hopping along beside him towards the third bedroom of the house, the one they kept for themselves.