Sex slave punished by husband

I’m standing on the front steps of his house with three bags of groceries and can’t help but think that I’m not going to make it. If I couldn’t finish making my husbands’ dinner before he came home, there would be hell to pay.

 

Images of what had happened two years ago when I did not meet his unbending demands conjured up in my mind and that fear made me look even harder for those damn keys. I had accidentally fallen asleep after a grueling ten hour shift at my husband’s restaurant. When Sean came home with no one greeting him at the door and no food on the table, he beat me so badly he had nearly put me in the ER. He walked up to the bedroom holding a baseball bat and before I could even beg for mercy he struck me right in the gut with the wooden thing. I fell to my knees holding my stomach and gasping for air. The pain had been remarkable. I managed to pathetically whimper “please forgive me Sir, I was so tired. It will never happen again.” At that he struck me hard across the face and bellowed “damn right it won’t you stupid bitch.” He then pulled me back up to my feet, bend me over the bed and hissed “take what I give you.” The next things I felt were his baseball bat coming down on me over and over again. Tears began streaming down my face but that didn’t stop him. Just when I felt darkness come over me, the kind people feel right before they pass out, he stopped, kicked me out of the bedroom door and said “If my dinner isn’t ready in 30 minutes what I just did to you will seem like a walk in the park.”

 

I finally locate the keys at the bottom of my purse. I enter the house, lay down the groceries and go change into my uniform. I take off my bra and panties and slip on a French maid costume. The skirt barely covers my bare ass and since I was not allowed to wear any sort of underwear, anyone could easily see everything when I bent over. Although Sean introduced me as his wife to his business partners I was really a sex slave he had purchased through international channels. Back home, I lived in a poor village where sex merchants often abducted young girls to be sold overseas. The families were too poor to devote any resources to relocating the missing children, and anyways girls were not valuable in their eyes. I was sixteen when I had been brought to Sean’s home. I didn’t know anything and the training had been—to say the least—extremely brutal.

 

I put on four inch black stilettos and a little white bonnet to complete the look. With that I frantically run to the kitchen because I have to make baked clams, lamb chops, steamed asparagus and wild rice all in the next 45 minutes. Every morning Sean gives me a detailed menu of what he is expecting to come home to, and all of it had to be from scratch. He knew that I worked at his restaurant as a dishwasher from 8 in the morning to 6 at night but that didn’t mean he was going to go easy on me. Sean made enough money to support a small island but his philosophy was to use his property to their fullest extent. I was therefore responsible for holding a job, making sure his 4000 square foot apartment was spotless, making dinner, and pleasing him in any way he wished.

 

It’s near seven o’clock and I hear his car pull into the driveway. I put the last fork in its place and scurry to the foyer to welcome him the way he likes it. I’m in such a rush I forget the proper protocol and make eye contact with him as he enters the house. I see a furry building up inside of him and I immediately realize what I did wrong and lower my eyes hoping he was in a very good mood. Unfortunately that doesn’t happen and he takes me by the neck and pins me to the wall. He slaps me hard across the face and I gasp. “You are lower than an animal, don’t you dare look or talk to me without asking for permission.” With that his hands wrap around my throat a little tighter just to make sure that I know I’m only living because he is allowing it. He slaps me a few more times, each time as hard as the first. He gets bored after awhile and finally lets me go.

 

I take off his coat and relieve him of his briefcase and neatly hang it up in the closet. He takes his seat at the head of the dining table. I serve him his dinner the entire time looking at the ground, I don’t want a repeat of what just happened. While he is eating, I stand in the background in case he calls out “more wine” or “suck me.” When he is finished eating I dutifully clear off the table as he takes a seat in front of the television. I clean up the kitchen and just around commercial he calls to me, “get over here slut.”

 

I lower my eyes and walk to where he is sitting. He puts a leash around my collar and makes me bend over the coffee table while my head is yanked high by the leash. “I like to inspect my meat” he says condescendingly. The commercial is over and the game is back on. “Don’t you dare move!” he warns very seriously. I know better than try to defy him and so I stay there, legs apart, pussy sticking out for him to see, smell, feel, do whatever he wants with. After years of training, I knew better than to challenge his philosophy. He believed that women were made to serve men in all aspects of their lives and that they should be locked up and treated as property. I stay there like that being objectified for at least the next ten minutes. When commercials came on again, he brutally knees my pussy. I let out a gasp of pain. “Shut up” I hear him say in my ear. He gets up and walks around me as to inspect another object he owns. He sits back down on the couch and handcuffs my arms behind me. He tells me to get up and sit on his lap. I do so obediently and he takes out my breasts from underneath the French made costume. He studies them intensely and squeezes much harder than is pleasurable. He starts to bob his thigh up and down—a sort of knee fuck with my hands behind my back. He tells me that if I get one drop of juice on his pants things are going to get a lot less comfortable than they are now. I try as hard as I can to not get excited, but after five minutes of this and his hands all over my breasts I can’t help but let out a little gasp of pleasure. He slaps me hard across the face. I know I’m not supposed to enjoy this. The way he sees it is that I exist entirely for his pleasure and I’m not supposed to get anything out of it. He’s a true sadist at heart and when I let out any sign of being aroused he immediately makes sure to add pain to the equation.

 

He gets me off his knee and unfortunately there’s a wet stain on a very noticeable spot on his pants. He gives me a look of disgust “Damn it look at what you’ve done, these pants are worth ten times more than you are.” “you enjoy it when I touch you there?” he asks putting a hand on my now very wet pussy. He then turns me over onto the couch and says in too nice a tone “well then let me give you all you want” and proceeds to stick his 8 inch long penis inside of me doggy style. The thing that he and I both know is that I’m very small inside and every time his penis hits the back of my walls it feels like a hammer is coming down on it. I would rather get whipped than have someone do me bent over and of course he knows this very well. He un-relentlessly fucks me as if I were a dog, in and out in and out increasing the speed. Tears are streaming down my eyes and it is really more than I can take, I try to struggle and get him out of me but all that accomplishes are hard slaps across the face. “Take what I give you cunt.” After about what seems like forever he pulls his dick out, turns me around and splashes his cum all over my face. I squirm as I hate the texture and smell of cum, especially his, which again he is very aware of.

 

He sits back down on the couch as the game comes back on and orders me to lie on the coffee table again with my now very bruised pussy completely exposed to him. I was getting really tired and wondering if he would make me stay like this all night. I turn my head to look at him. He angrily yanks my chain taught, stands up, put his foot on my back to push my stomach flat across the coffee table and sternly said “What the hell did I just say, didn’t I tell you not to move.” He takes the cane that was always next to him on the couch and whacks me hard across the ass. “little slut needs to be disciplined I see…20 count backwards and if you mess up that’s automatically ten more.” The first one comes down and it was much stronger than what I thought he would do. “ouch, Geez stop that” I scream. I didn’t mean to let the little bit of spirit that was left in me to come out so blatantly, but it just came out and it was a little too late. I knew he hated any signs of insubordination and now I wished it was only the 20 strokes he had previously prescribed. He violently straightens me up and asks “What-the-hell-did-you-just-say” slapping me hard across the face after each word. Part of me was furious for having been put in this situation all these years and wanted to lash back. But I knew that against his power and the resources he had my efforts would be futile. I didn’t even have legal papers to be in this country and Sean was a very wealthy and influential man. “Answer me cunt!” Memories of all those months of horrific training came into my mind. I was not easy to beak. My defiance had held out longer than Sean had imagined. But in the end, everyone has a limit and with exhaustion I came to accept my role. “I’m sorry Sir” I weakly replied knowing that not answering him at this point would be suicidal. He looked me straight in the eye and with a mischievous grin said “oh you will be.”

 

With that he commands me on all fours and leads me to the basement at a pace faster than I can crawl. He places me in a chair at the center of the room and handcuffs my hands. “Women do not talk back to men!” he hisses at me angrily and spits in my face. He puts his right hand around my neck, much tighter than is comfortable. With his left hand he slaps my face repeatedly. After maybe the tenth slap he starts to laugh, “look at what a whore you are, so pathetic” and spits on me again. He yanks me up by the hair and throws me against the wall. He takes down the single tail that was proudly being displayed on the wall and starts to lash me with it mercilessly. He does this again and again until I can barely breath. I’m huddle in the corner in the tinniest ball I can manage to get my body into. My screams of pain fall on deaf ears. He continues to lash me with the whip. After about 10 more hits he stops. “I need a beer slut!” he commands. I try and get up but can barely stand. He hits me even harder than the last ten strokes “did I say you could stand?” I get back down on all fours and try to crawl out of the basement. My head is spinning and every part of my body is bloody. “I feel wrinkles growing” I hear him mock in the background. I try to pick up the speed of my crawling but the pain makes it near impossible. I finally manage to get upstairs, grab a bear out of the fridge and bring it to Sean. He takes a long slurp and I think what a bad night this has been but at least it’s over. I stay on my knees and look straight at the ground in case I do another thing to displease him and my body just can’t afford the punishment right now. He gets up and I think he is heading upstairs to bed but to my horror he is reaching for the whip. He notes the look of terror on my face and laughs, “did you think I would let you off that easy cunt,” another laugh escaping his body. I feel the first few lashes but next thing I know I’m lying stark naked in the middle of the basement being fucked awake. Every single part of my body feels like I’ve been hit by a truck. After a few minutes Sean cums’ inside of me. He drags me by the hair to the little 6x4 concrete cell he makes me sleep in when he doesn’t want me next to him in bed. I lie on the cold, hard floor and try to get some sleep as I’m going to have to be up in less than six hours to make Sean breakfast and head off to his restaurant.