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His Next Wife
This one is not pretty.
Protagonist says right at the start that she's 'a dead woman.' She will be thoroughly used, and discarded as less than trash.
The end is genuinely unpleasant – one reader commented: "That was intensely horrible! … I'm still shuddering" and "It's over the top. But, I felt like I was there. I don't care to go back. … It will take awhile before I get some of those images out of my head."
If you read further than this page I don't want to hear any complaints about the content.
You are warned.
It's absolutely pitch black. I don't know where I am. I think I'm in a metal cage, shackled to it spread eagle by both wrists and ankles, flat on my back. I'm certain I'm naked. I don't know how long I've been here. I sense movement, so I think someone's taking me somewhere. I don't know who they are or where they're taking me.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm a dead woman.
I remember meeting Roddy five years ago. Roderick MacDougal. From a Scottish family, transplanted to the States a century ago. Red hair and everything. I was alone in the restaurant and he was a few tables over, alone too. He looked so sad. I picked up my plate and walked over to him.
“Do you mind if I join you?” I asked.
“I don't think I'd make good company, Miss….”
“Jennifer Bateman. Pleased to meet you.” He was wearing black. Very formal. It was the middle of the day. “You're wearing black – did someone die?”
“My wife. Funeral was today. I'd rather not talk about that right now.”
“I am so sorry.” I looked at him. He was so sad. “Would you like a hug?” He looked like he needed one.
He shook his head no, then fidgeted, and then looked at me. “Do you think she would mind … me being in the arms of another woman? So soon?”
The poor man. I set my plate down and beckoned him up, standing over him. “Come up here.” He rose unsteadily. I felt him sobbing in my bosom.
***
We were engaged six months later and married six months after that.
He carried me into his, I mean, our home, into our bedroom, and we made love in our bed nonstop for a week, it seemed.
He had servants to take care of the details of life. I never made a bed or swept a floor, or cooked a dinner.
I was bored, except when we traveled. We saw the Great Wall, Machu Picchu, the Eifel Tower, the Pyramids. We surfed in Australia and skied in the Alps. But we always came home to nothing for me to do. Roddy had his work and his clubs to keep him occupied, but I only had the pool guy. I love my husband and I'm not proud of what I did, but Lorenzo was deliciously distracting and anything but boring, if you know what I mean.
Roddy and I had a full social calendar just about every night, except Wednesday evenings, once a month. We went to parties and Opera openings, and charity fundraisers and we had a million friends.
On those Wednesdays Roddy got home early, left for his club, and didn't return until the wee hours. I suspected an affair, but there was no trace. No lipstick, no perfume, nothing but cigar smoke and food stains in his clothes.
“Can I come?” I was bored and didn't want to spend another night alone, even though the sex was out of this world every time he got back from his monthly Wednesday-night outing.
“No, darling. It's men only. If you came you'd have to sit outside in the car and wait. I won't do that to you.”
Two months later I asked again, and got the same answer.
Two months after that I insisted on coming.
I sat in the parking lot for ten hours. During the first hour cars arrived. Then it was totally quiet until Roddy returned. We humped in the backseat; round two occured in our bedroom.
I went back the next month, and the next. I noticed that some of the men brought their dogs. Big dogs. Great Danes and Mastiffs. On reflection, I'd seen the dogs before but hadn't noticed them, I don't know why. I asked Roddy about that after the windows had defogged enough for us to safely drive home and he said that you can't leave those dogs alone, so the men bring them and although they're pets, they seem to enjoy the festivities. I wished I could enjoy the festivities that made him so horny.
A month later, a car rolled up much later than all the others. Most of the time the cars went straight to the parking lot and the men walked over to the main entrance, but this one drove to the front door where a half dozen other men, including Roddy, were, chatting and puffing their cigars. A chauffeur ran around and opened the door, and an older man got out. I recognized him from one of the parties, but I couldn't recall which one. He tugged on a leash, but his disobedient pet didn't seem to want to leave. It's not easy to move a 100+ lb creature that doesn't want to move, I thought. After a while he stopped tugging, dug into his pocket and pulled something out. That's when I saw the naked woman. The old man pulled on her leash and she followed, resisting every step. The car disappeared and the woman was stranded with no place to go. Her hands were tied-up between her shoulder blades, jutting her breasts forward. The men greeted the old man and began fondling her breasts, nodding and talking with the old man. Roddy reached between her legs and soon her pelvis was going. She almost collapsed. The men laughed and one swatted her butt as they followed the old man and leashed woman into the club.
The scene replayed in my mind over and over for the next nine hours and I steamed up the windows all by myself. I was so aroused by the time Roddy arrived that all I wanted was to feel him within me. I'd ask questions later.
I didn't have to. He raised the subject on the way home himself. “I suppose you saw when Ernie arrived” he said as he drove.
“You mean the man with the naked woman? I saw you make her cum in your hands in the parking lot before you took her into the club.”
“There was no woman. Women are not allowed in the club. I told you that.”
“I saw her. And some old man brought her into the club.”
“Yeah, Ernie and Marcia.”
Right, Ernie and Marcia Stevens. Now I remember them. They were at the Children's Hospital Benefit three weeks ago.
“That was his wife, Marcia?”
“No, Ernie brought his pet to the club tonight.”
“Huh?” If I was hearing what I though I was hearing, this was very disturbing.
“I told you. Women are not allowed in the club, but men can bring their pets. Ernie showed up with a pet. He demonstrated how well trained his animal was, and then he had it entertain us performing tricks most of the night until he put his bitch in a cage with the other animals.”
Pet? Bitch? Animal? It was a woman! It was unbelievable!
“I want go with you to the club tonight.”
“OK.”
“I don't want wait outside. I want to go with you inside the club.”
“You can't. You know that.”
“Not if I go as your pet.”
“Jennie. No.”
“Please. I want to. I'm bored to tears here and curious as hell about what's in there!”
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“Then tell me. What happens in there? Tell me.”
“No.”
“But you can take a pet in with you, right?”
“I'm just going to say this once. You don't want to go in to the club as a pet. I mean it.”
I thought about it.
I figured they were going to use me for sex for a few hours.
It was scary, but I thought of Marcia, humiliated, with men touching her, arousing her, made to cum out in the open, practically in public. I had imagined myself as Marcia for weeks. It always made me hot.
And wet.
“Tell me what I have to do.”
After trying to talk me out of it, Roddy looked surprisingly pleased.
He called someone.
An hour later there was a knock on the door. Roddy let someone in.
I recognized the chauffeur from before. He held a briefcase. “Is this the animal?” he asked Roddy, looking at me, up and down.
“Animal?” I was offended. “Are you talking about me?”
He didn't acknowledge me. “Jezus. That's a bad sign,Sir.” said the chauffeur, directing his response to Roddy. “It's not trained yet?”
“Jennie, you said you wanted this.” Roddy said.
“Roddy, he insulted me! He called me an animal… 'It'… Aren't you going to defend me?”
“You said you wanted to be my pet. Suck it up.”
“Why isn't it ready?" The chauffeur was impatient. "You're wasting my time.”
“You're right, I'm sorry” Roddy said. “You got here a little sooner than we expected.” Roddy turned to me. “Strip.”
“What?” I said.
“Jennie! Come on! The man's in a hurry!”
“In front of him?”
“Jennie, either strip or forget about getting into the club. What's the big deal – you're going to be naked in front of him and dozens more soon enough. Get on with it.”
I unbuttoned my blouse. I slipped it off my shoulders. I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. I was stripping in front of a stranger. I exposed my breasts to him. My crotch wasn't just tingling. It was on overdrive. The chauffeur looked really impatient.
I kicked off my shoes and dropped my skirt.
“What the Hell is taking so long? Is your animal too stupid to understand simple commands?”
“Jennie! Hurry up – you're embarrassing me!”
I'm embarrassing you? Who's the one stripping naked?
I slid my pantyhose off. I saw a damp patch in the crotch. I glanced up and saw the chauffeur smirk. He obviously saw it too.
I took a deep breath and slid out of my panties. Everyone saw the soaking wet proof of my acute sexual arousal. I stood naked, but the man didn't look impressed. He looked at Roddy.
“Does the animal know that animals are naked? They only wear what their owners put on them. Did you put that wristwatch and all that jewelry on your animal?”
“Jennie!”
“I'm sorry!” I raced to strip myself more bare than I could remember. And to apologize to men for not stripping enough. I hadn't been so naked since I was born.
The chauffeur produced a garbage bag and put all my clothes in it. He held it open to me and I threw all my rings, earrings, my watch – my grandmother's necklace in too. “Finally!”
“Paws behind your back!”
Paws! I flashed an evil look at him. He laughed. I complied.
He put a dog collar around my neck. It fit snugly. He addressed Roddy. “This is new. We used to use regular animal collars and ball gags to muzzle them.” He wrapped cuffs around my wrists. They made a snap. “This collar is new. It's got a microphone, electrodes, and a remote.” He clipped a chain to the collar with a caribiner then pulled one of my wrists up and between my shoulder blades and clipped it in place. I wiggled my fingers and even couldn't touch the clip, much less free myself. I guessed that was the point. “It's a training tool – one I think your animal will need... a lot!”
I scowled. He clipped my free wrist next to the other. It was uncomfortable. I started to whine – the pain was intense. I started to scream. The two men saw my face and my eyes as I fell to my knees, then to the floor. Waves of electric pain jolted my neck whenever I uttered a peep. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't.
The chauffeur kicked me. “Animal, for your sake, I hope you're a fast learner.”
I looked up, still dazed, breathing hard and trying really hard not to cry. I didn't see any sympathetic faces.
“Jennie, you need to know something. I mean really know something. As of this moment, you are my pet. I own you, but I promise you won't be treated like an animal.” I looked at my husband. I felt relieved. He continued, “No, you aren't like an animal, you are an animal. Listen well: trained animals will do whatever they're commanded to do without hesitation no matter what. And believe me, you don't want to be disciplined by anyone at the club, including me.” I couldn't believe it.
“Especially by me. An untrained animal is an embarrassment,” Roddy's voice went cold, “and you don't want to embarrass me in front of my friends.” He had a small control in his hand. “You don't look like you're very happy to be my pet animal.” And I felt a weaker jolt. “Smile and show everyone how much you enjoy being an obedient animal.” I felt another jolt. I smiled weakly. “Those were just reminders and you'll learn to enjoy serving and pleasuring others.”
I didn't understand – we're playing a game, right? This is just for tonight, right? He petted my head and then stroked my back. I was still angry, but being petted felt good. “Let's go.” I tried to get up, but it's hard when can't use your hands. He grabbed one of my tits, hard, and pulled me up to my feet. Sweet Jesus, that hurt! What the Hell is going on?
I'd always imagined that this was going to be an embarrassing night. I knew I was going to be naked and that men would play with my body all night. I knew that. What I hadn't imagined was just how absolutely helpless I would be. When I was curled on the floor I realized that I would have to do whatever they wanted and that what I wanted didn't matter. I hated that. But it didn't matter what I hated or loved. All that mattered was my enthusiastic compliance. I could choose to gleefully do whatever they wanted me to do, or to be choked half to death and then to do it anyway. Which is to say, I had no choice. I was a pet. An animal.
We arrived at the Club. We got out of the limo and Roddy led me to the front door with the leash. He had the controller for the collar, but he said pulling me around with the leash looked better. Roddy's cigar club greeted us out front and I knew what would happen next. Standing out in the open they drove me to the very brink of orgasm. He dragged his pet (me) everywhere, making especially sure to show his naked, leashed animal to people I knew and who knew me. They chatted normally with Roddy as they touched me intimately. They squeezed my breasts and commented about my capacity as a dairy cow while others reached into me and spoke of my acceptability as a breeding sow. Acute embarrassment doesn't begin to describe how I felt, but it didn't matter and I had no choice. Well, Roddy said I did have a choice: all I had to do was to say “Stop! I don't want to play any more!” loud and clear, just once, and my ordeal would end. It was deceptively simple to quit; any child could protest. But everyone knew that was a false choice; it was impossible to utter a sound before my collar put me on the ground, curled in a fetal position, struggling to breathe. I had agreed voluntarily and could not quit. I had no choice, so I smiled my acceptance when they fondled my breasts and probed my vagina. Everyone saw me smile sweetly and felt me push my self against their hands and understood that I wanted it. I hated Roddy for doing this to me, and yet, a part of me started to enjoy having fingers wiggling in me, stroking my magical places. I started to accept my status and became an animal. Roddy grinned when he first saw me spread my feet, squat slightly, and rocked my hips to the rhythm as friend of ours rolled one of my nipples between his fingers of one hand while stroking my G-spot with the other. I'm sure I was smiling as my eyes begged him to let me orgasm in his hand. I enthusiastically performed for dozens before we entered the Main Salon.
At the main salon many of the men were seated; Roddy gave me 'permission' to suck their cocks until they were hard enough for me to sit on and then to pump them empty. I don't know how many squats I did, or many cocks I fucked. Does it matter? Often I'd be fucking one cock and sucking another, readying it for later, as the men chatted. I'd never had so much semen in me. I was surprised at first that nobody used condoms. They didn't care that they might get me pregnant -- but who cares if animals get pregnant? That would be my problem, not theirs.
I was busy all night. Roddy's animal serviced every penis in the building, including the Mastiffs' and the Great Danes'. And afterward it licked and sucked them clean, even the ones that had been in its ass – especially the ones that had been in its ass. And the animal smiled the whole time, obviously happy to be satisfying her owner and his friends. I didn't care about what I did or that I was being videoed most of the time. It didn't matter.
Hours later I was alone, hanging in mid air, hogtied, wrists and ankles tied together. The night was obviously winding down and I hoped to have just a little fun. A sweet orgasm. Just one would be nice. An orgasm just for me – not one an animal has to give to someone else. Now I understand why Roddy is so horny when he gets home from here. I'm gonna jump his bones the first chance I get.
Roddy strolled up. I was so happy to see him. I smiled and he smiled back. I would grant his wishes eagerly. I was still restrained to the device, hanging from my wrists and ankles. He stroked my bulging labia and massaged my clit. I couldn't move much, so I just enjoyed his friendly fingers as they slipped in.
“I shouldn't be here”
I didn't understand, but remained silent.
We're going home now, right? You're going to fuck me silly, right?
“I sold this...” He wiggled his fingers in me, “...to a broker I met. He promised to solve my problems.”
I knew better than to protest.
You sold what? You can't sell me! And what problems?
He saw my disbelieving eyes and said, reassuringly, “You'll be happy to know that this hole and the other are worth almost forty.”
Forty dollars? Are you serious?
“Actually, he was going to pay a hundred, but I insisted on a guarantee that your worthless carcass will never be found and that drove the price down, so I had to settle for thirty five.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What the Hell's going on?
"I almost had to pay him to take you."
He stroked my rump. Under other circumstances I would have enjoyed it.
“I see you think that this is a game, but it's not. I know about you banging Lorenzo.”
Oh, God!
“Do you remember when we met, my wife had died? It was an empty casket because they never found the body.” His voice was cold and I was suddenly scared. “Remember that blood drive six months ago and how we went back and gave more? I've been here all night – dozens of witnesses, but your blood will be all over the house. Enough that the investigators will know that you couldn't possibly still be alive."
Oh, God! No!
"Your casket will be empty too."
His fingers continued to play inside me. I couldn't stop him.
"There'll be a quick inquest and the half-million dollar insurance policy we've have on each other since just after the honeymoon will keep me in style, just like the last one did.”
I struggled with all my might, but it was no good.
A door opened. “Wat you doin' wit my meat?” a gruff voice demanded.
“It looks tasty. I was thinking of emptying my balls in it.”
“Grrr. OK, but next time ask first. It's only polite to ask before fucking another man's meat.”
“Sorry. Thanks. Wait – here's a buck.” Roddy handed the man a dollar.
The man grabbed the bill. “Tanks – OK, it's all yours. Do whatever you want, just leave it alive.”
Everything that had happened this evening was more incredible than what happened before. But now he could do anything to her… for just ONE dollar?
Roddy opened his fly; my holes couldn't have been at a more perfect height. I couldn't stop him. He grabbed my hips and positioned me. I felt his penis against my sex. “Enjoy your so-called life while it lasts.” I guess I should be glad that he only wanted to rape me. “If I know your new owner, you'll be lucky if you end up naked halfway around the world on your hands and knees, begging strangers to pay your pimp a few pennies so they can watch you get fucked in the street their dogs!” With that happy thought, he ejaculated in me and left, whistling, as his cum oozed down my crack and puddled on the floor.
The gruff man returned. He pulled a cap off a hypodermic syringe. I struggled more and felt a jab in my butt.
My world went fuzzy, then gray.
I don't know how many times I cried myself to sleep in my cage or how many times I've awoken in the blackness.
In a cage. Naked. There are metal chains around my wrists and my ankles. I'm laying down and can barely move. I'm Naked. There's a blanket or some cloth under me, between me and the metal mesh. It's pitch dark in here and I can't see a thing. I think my cage is in a shipping container, but I don't know.
There's at least one cage above me; urine rains on me sometimes. I don't know how often. There's at least one cage under me; I used to hear whimpering below me when I couldn't hold my pee any longer. I didn't hear her the last time I relieved myself; she's either used to it or she's dead.
I'm so hungry. Unbelievably hungry. I feel mud between my legs – my mud – and if I could reach it... You wouldn't understand. You've never been that hungry, have you?
It used to smell unbelievably foul here, but it doesn't any more. I think I've gotten used to the stench.
They wouldn't do this to us if they intended to let us live. I don't think all of us still are.
I used to have a life. I used to have a wealthy husband and a muscular lover and I lived in a nice house. Not anymore. My identity wasn't hacked. I disappeared. Who would look for me here, in a place where you dream of eating your own shit? I'll never be found. I've been erased. I will be legally declared dead and my husband will retire on my insurance money. He and my replacement will live in comfort and luxury. I won't. He saw to that. I don't want to die. I'll become an animal if they want. I'll grant that wish enthusiastically. I will do anything, no shame, no humiliation – only survival – like an animal, and I'll do it gladly, with a sincere smile on my face, and then I'll do it again. But even then I have no illusions. They will use me and when I can't make them any more money they will feed me to their dogs.
I'm a dead woman no matter what. I don't exist. There'll be no grave, no marker, no trace. I never was.
The door opened. Light! I was blinded but I saw blurry shadows of people.
“Help!” Lots of female voices weakly cried out, but I didn't understand all their languages.
The men put cloths over their faces and said something I didn't understand; I imagine they were complaining about the stench.
My eyes started to adjust. There were twelve cages in four stacks of three. There was a naked woman in each. The first stack between me and the door slid out. The cold air hit me. It smelled good. I heard screaming, And again. And again. Then the second stack slid out. More screams. A man attached a steel cable to the cage below me and my stack slid out of the box.
I was on the deck of a ship. A crane pulled something out of the water at about the same time the woman above me screamed and blood dripped on me. The crane dumped a cage on the deck and the deck hands turned it on its side; hundreds of lobster poured out. And bones. And a skull. The human remains were tossed over the side. Like garbage. Nobody cared. I started screaming.
The cage above me shot up, swung over the water and vanished. Another cage emerged from the sea. Lobsters poured out, and still shackled to the bottom was a human form. It had no skin, no face, and no visible signs of its gender remained. A worker pulled two reluctant crustaceans from within the form's gaping abdominal cavity, then the top closed and it went back just as another came out. When its contents were removed, loose bones were thrown overboard. Immediately the top of my cage opened. The man had a knife. I tried to fight, but I could barely move and was too weak to resist. I screamed as the blade disappeared into and across my belly. He reached into the cavity and yanked my guts out, slicing them open in several places. He shut the cage and I helplessly rode in it up and over the side; the cage was released. It dropped and hit the water with a jarring stop. Frigid water washed over me for just a second before my cage slipped beneath the waves and plunged into the deep.
I rode my cage all the way to the bottom. Ten meters up I saw propellers spin as my boat motored off. It was only ten meters away, but it might as well have been a hundred. There was a splash on the surface and a cage appeared, and sank with a human silhouette spread eagle within. I thought I felt giant insects crawling on me, a lover nibbled on a nipple. Bubbles rose from my mouth. Something moved inside my belly. And then another. I felt so cold. Things blanketed my face. Water filled my lungs. There were no more bubbles. My eyelids hurt.
Damn you to Hell, Roddy!
I met Roddy six months ago. Roderick MacDougal. His family is Scottish; they came to America about a hundred years ago. He's got red hair and everything. I was alone in the restaurant and he was a few tables over, alone too. He looked really sad. I picked up my plate and walked over to him.
“Is it OK if I join you?” I asked.
“I don't think I'd make good company, Miss….”
“Marcia Jackson. Pleased to meet you.” It was the middle of the day but he was dressed very formally in black. “Did someone die?”
“My wife. The funeral was today. I'd rather not talk about that right now.”
That was six months ago. He proposed! Last night at a French restaurant! He was on his knees and everything! And look at my engagement ring!
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