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My Wife. His Whore. Part VII.
Debilitated and reduced to ashes by the twists of emotion in this sordid affair, Lon greeted Master Drave’s declaration as a ray of hope for him to at least see Leena.
Tears at last took him to sleep, that day, collapsed on a rug on the floor in Leena’s office where he perversely displayed what were now the fetishistic symbols of his lost wife: her flashy skirts and dresses, her lingerie and high heels
Lon slept soundly for the first time in two weeks, at least, and awoke, refreshed, despite the uncomfortable bed place on the floor. Nov. 30th was only three days away. He could see Leena and perhaps talk to her; he had left fifty messages for her on Alton Drave’s phone over the last weeks that had gone unanswered.
In the morning, a special delivery letter arrived just after breakfast. It was a letter from Master Alton Drave. Somehow Lon had been expecting this and took in the outrageous content of it much more calmly than he might have a few days before:
Lon,
You are quite aware, now, of my art, my lifestyle, and my practices, so I shall
not hide behind formalities here. Your wife is my cunt now. She is under my fucking thumb, my personal obeisant whore. I have put this bitch in her place
but good, and she grovels at my boots to thank me sincerely each day. I am sure
you have followed my videos in the recent days. The whip tracks on her back and cane marks on her slut ass are there for you to see. “Spare the rod and spoil
the cunt,” is my philosophy and certainly pain and punishment, even arbitrary
punishment, are nearly always essential to good woman-training.
Though my life and art so often are met with outrage, my goals have always been simple, ordinary and logical: to teach women how to be their best, and display this
for all to see and learn. Every woman knows she as at her best when she is
at her prettiest and women around the world flourish when bidden to show
the feminine docility and obedience that is at the core of their nature. I have
found them thankful for the strong man who firmly insists they be true to
themselves rather than be ill-presented, smart-mouthed bitches, disruptive and
aesthetically disgusting. As their sexuality is one that yields to stiff hardness,
naturally they thrive on firm fuck-training and sexual obeisance. I believe
my principles, if applied wisely, can calm and bring into alignment what has
become a difficult and self-destructive gender in “modern” conditions.
But this is all simply to say that I am teaching your bitch wife how to be the woman she has always craved to be, despite all the feminist lies she spouted to hide this fundamental fact. Let it suffice to say that the force and prick-work needed to effect her reform causes her naturally and femininely to love in a way she never before has done. This, of course, certifies her as mine and only mine, and a whore, because I choose her to be so. You are invited to see her perform at the strip club, “Pussy Galore,” at 9 o’clock, Saturday, Nov. 30th. Come to her dressing room at 7. I do want you to speak with her before she goes on stage.
In Mastery,
Alton Drave
Lon took in the blunt obscenity of Alton Drave’s letter with a newfound steadiness. He was used to Master Drave’s virulent sexism and male supremacist rhetoric.
However preposterous it might seem to him intellectually, he also credited Mr. Drave with not merely living in theory. Lon had seen visual evidence of his “training” and “taming” of seven very well educated, “independent-minded,” “modern” women. Mr. Drave had not specialized in docile, shrinking violets, but quite the contrary. And the showpiece for Alton Drave’s strident philosophy was Lon’s own “feminist” wife Leena, whom no one but no one would have believed could become “slave” to some sexist, obscenity spouting “Master.”
Lon knew that Leena too was deeply in love with this force of nature called Alton Drave and resisted being ripped asunder once again by Alton’s direct declaration of his possession of the woman who once played the role of ordinary wife for him. Seeing on Alton’s videos Leena’s heartfelt docility and dedication to servile attendance to her Master’s outrageous requirements made him see that she loved Alton with the same ferocity she once reserved for feminist polemics. He had this calm space to contemplate his place of limbo in her life, trying hard not to allow either his own considerable grief at truly losing Leena nor his own voyeuristic fever to overtake him and drain him as they had in the past weeks.
Part of the strain, too, of the last weeks had been the difficult phone calls with his daughter and son whom Leena had been in regular contact with. Leena had made clear that she and Lon were separated now and she had been frank with both children about her circumstances. Lon had been shocked that his daughter Amy had sided with her mother in the affair. His son had been predictably outraged and even suggested calling the police. Lon had calmed him down. In the push and pull of it all he saw that neither of his children, fortunately, were fragile and easily set off track. Additionally, they were protected by having lives on the East Coast, away from the epicenter of these trials. Somehow, he decided, family dynamics would get to an even keel despite what was truly an emotional tsunami hitting the family.
But most importantly in three days he would see Leena again--- and—he would see her perform publically the obscene dance her Master required. Lon continued to sleep on the floor of Leena’s office amidst the fetishistic items he had arranged there as if it were some museum of ladies’ “fuck-the-other-man” apparel. He continued following the video presentations from the house of Alton Drave, his “Woman-training” series in which Leena was now the star. While still being brought to a sexual frenzy and masturbating constantly by what he saw, Lon forced himself to rein in the fierce storm of emotion he had stewed in to his detriment over this last spate of time. He let himself, as much as he could, float in a hyper-sexual state above the “rights and wrongs” of the moment. He absorbed fully the twisted pleasures he was feeling, while whittling away at his rational reactions. What began to emerge is that he had always had fantasies about sexy whores that he would fuck and use like they were nothing but hired holes. His faithfulness to Leena and her stark feminist stance had made him suppress his own feelings about sleazy sex. The same with his feelings about “wives.” Being someone who was naturally conformist Lon had bent easily to the movement towards equality for women that was now the norm. But below the surface were certainly counter feelings about the role of women in the home. He’d never be bold enough to live out some of these submerged yearnings, and that was the attraction of Alton Drave’s household.
Lon clicked on the computer and went to the familiar website. The video continued after Leena’s abject declarations of fealty, kneeling in the kitchen at her Master’s side. Turning to Leena, Alton sad, “OK bitch now it’s time for some fucking housekeeping. You’ll clean this fucking kitchen floor on your cunt knees and I don’t want any runs in those fucking nylons nor any scuffs on those beautiful high heels that please me. Remember runs and scuffs are nothing but insults to the Master and they will be severely punished. The section in front of the sink you’ll polish up with your bitch tongue. I’m going to train you to be a meticulous housecunt.” Leena, mouth gagged, nodded in assent to her Master as she rose to clear the dishes and put them in the sink. Master Drave rose and tugged on Trina’s leash and escorted the naked, gagged, huge-titted Trina on all fours out of the room. Clearly, Master Drave had his own intentions for her.
It was a pretty picture, Leena in her attractive housemaids outfit, a very short black satin dress shaped by a tight corset beneath it, gagged and kneeling on her black satin mat, holding her high heels with difficulty off the floor as she scrubbed the floor of the kitchen using a sponge and bucket. Lon watched the care with which she used the sponge so that she would not run her stockings, scuff her shoes or damage in the slightest her pretty false nails. “A woman in her proper place,” this was the subtitle message that emerged through Mr. Drave’s careful orchestration at the bottom of the screen. “She takes pains to keep herself presentable.” Lon watched as Leena, after most exactingly cleaning the full kitchen floor this way, removed her mouth gag to abjectly cleaned the section below the sink with her tongue—every inch of it. Then she arose, reinserted the gag and like, “A nice high-heeled little housewhore” stood with a mop to wax the kitchen floor. When she had finished her waxing, she knelt on the dining room rug at the edge of the kitchen awaiting her Master’s return.
15 minutes later Master Drave came from the recesses of the house to her side. Taking her sby the scruff he pushed her face down toward the kitchen floor. “Let’s see if we can see the little bitch’s reflection in the shine.” Apparently pleased by the result he stood Leena up, tugged at her stockings to straighten her seams and closely inspected her black, polished leather high heels for scuffs. Lastly, he inspected her long painted nails for chipping. It was obvious to anyone that Leena had made every effort to avoid the slightest run or scuff or chip. “One run, two scuffs and a fucking chipped nail, cunt! You are going to be caned and fucked like you deserve for making a mess of yourself. No man wants a housewhore who can’t keep herself presentable.” Forgotten was the perfectly cleaned kitchen. The graphic camera panned in the punishment room as Leena was tied to the sawhorse in only heels and lingerie, her tit nipples clamped with weights as Master Drave viciously caned her ass, and then fucked her callously and brutally. “A Man must assert Himself” the subtitle said as Leena trembled in pain and orgasm, the drool dripping over the ball gag that silenced her. Spurting himself into her, Master Drave dramatically moved to the fore of the sawhorse and removed Leena’s gag. “I’m so sorry Master for the bitch insults in my presentation, the run, the scuffs and nail chip,” the tearful Leena said, “Thank you for correcting me. May I kiss the cane, Sir?” Master Drave gave a sly glance at the camera. “Bitch under boot,” the subtitle said, but Lon knew too it was also a woman deeply in love.
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