THE PROPOSITION—MY CONCLUSION

BY

SENORLONGO

I sometimes place myself in one of the roles as I read through stories.  That’s what I did in “The Proposition” by Wayne C. Rogers.  This is how the story ends if I’m William, Danielle’s husband/slave.

I lay there trying to get comfortable on the floor.  I had slept on worse as a Zen student in California, but that was years ago and I had grown accustomed to the softness of our bed and the touch of my Mistress’ body through the night.  My mind wandered at first, but in time I began to focus on what had happened.  Danielle had offered herself to this Stuart and he had moved right in as her Master.  I had more problems than I could count with this situation.  Granted that I was Danielle’s slave, but I was a voluntary one.  I had limits beyond which I would never go—I’d rather die first--despite what I had told Danielle and what she had demanded of me.

I would readily admit to being a homophobe.  I thought homosexuality was revolting.  I couldn’t even stand to watch lesbian sex in porn.  I could see the future—my future--as clear as day.  Stuart would dominate Danielle and in the process would take steps to completely dominate and control me.  Watching them fuck and then cleaning her out was but the first step in what Danielle thought was “the ideal triangle,” but I thought was a nightmare.  How long before his cock was in my mouth?  How long before it was up my ass?  If I went along I’d bet less than a week.  I’d like to think that Danielle would intervene, recognizing and accepting my revulsion, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.  So far she’d almost destroyed our relationship at his behest.  No more sex with my wife--I’d never explained it to Danielle, but this was how and why I had always known that her affairs meant nothing to her.  It was how I knew that she still loved me—how our marriage had endured.  No more sleeping in her bed and the final indignity—peeing in my mouth.  She had never even considered it before.  I knew she thought it disgusting and she had much more effective ways of dominating and controlling me.  No, I couldn’t count on Danielle.  I’d have to deal with it myself.  I spent the next hour developing and critiquing plans.  I had something concrete in mind by the time I fell asleep two hours later.

It was light when Danielle woke me by straddling my head.  I knew immediately what she intended.  “Please don’t, Danielle.  Please!  I can’t….”

“It’s what my Master wants so it’s what you’ll do.  Now shut up and open your mouth.  I don’t want to see you spill even a single drop.  I’ll punish you if you do.  I’ll tell you up front that I’m just looking for an excuse.  You’re going to be so submissive by the time Stuart comes on Thursday I doubt you’ll recognize yourself.”  She leaned forward and let go.  It came in a torrent rather than a trickle.  I gulped it down as best I could, but I couldn’t keep up.  It flowed over my cheeks, onto her thighs and down to the blanket, mixing with my tears.  She slapped me hard—the first time she had ever struck me—as she whispered, “You dumb shit; you just earned yourself a real whipping, but not now.  I’m going to do it Thursday when Stuart is here and don’t even think of begging for mercy because you’ll get none.  Now lick my thighs clean.”  I was bawling as I cleaned my Mistress.  “Oh, yeah—forget about even masturbating.  Stuart suggested placing you in chastity and I’m going to do it.  I’m going on line now.  Then you’ll really be under my control—and Stuart’s, too.  Now, clean yourself up and make breakfast.  The kids have already eaten so it will just be the two of us.”

Had I any doubts what I had to do they disappeared that moment.  This was going to be a matter of my survival—plain and simple.  I showered, shaved, and dressed before moving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the two of us.  Then I cleaned up and we took the kids up to see the petroglyphs in Red Rock Canyon.  Lizy and Steve always enjoyed finding primitive rock carvings that were off the beaten trail.  As always, I brought my handmade snake rod.  I’d attended UNLV as a kid and earned plenty of spending money catching various species of rattlers and selling them to research labs both at the university and elsewhere.  This area was often inhabited by the dangerous Western Diamondback and the highly venomous Mohave, also known locally as the Horned Rattlesnake.  It gave me another idea, one that would be easy to bring to completion.

We trekked up some of the lesser trails and the kids were thrilled to find three petroglyphs they’d never seen before.  I held the paper taut along the rock while they made tracings with a charcoal.  All in all it was a most enjoyable afternoon.  I wasn’t looking forward to the evening when Mistress Danielle and I would be alone again in her room.  She had me eat her hairy pussy to four orgasms before peeing again into my mouth.  I slept on the floor again as I did the night before, this time with a blanket that smelled of her morning urine.  I was actually thrilled that I had to work on Sunday.

I drove to the casino a bit early for my noon to eight shift at the blackjack tables.  I was one of their better dealers, both from a technical viewpoint as well as table awareness.  This year alone I’d caught several cheaters, including a ring that had been cleaning up at the casinos’ expense for more than six months.  I drove to the far rear of the lot, back where they were building a new multilevel parking facility.  It would allow the casino and attached hotel to expand onto the land previously needed for parking.  Sunday was ideal for me—the only day when no construction was underway.  I had the run of the area and soon found exactly what I was looking for.  I grabbed three, all about the same length, and put them into a black plastic trash bag in the back of my SUV.  I moved the car closer to the casino and walked in to begin my day.

I was in the locker room changing into my dealer’s uniform when my close associate and friend Jerry Palmer joined me.  “Geez, William—you look like shit.”

“Yeah, I feel like it, too.  Say, think you could put me up a couple of nights, like Wednesday and Thursday?  I’m having some problems with the wife and….”

“No problemo, partner.  Here, take my spare key.  You know where I live.  You can stay as long as you like or as long as your back can take my couch.”  He handed me the key as I thanked him profusely.  I walked out to the floor in search of my pit boss.  I’d need Thursday off even if I didn’t go home—especially if I didn’t go home.

The next two days were better at home as I made every effort to be as submissive as humanly possible.  Danielle still insisted on peeing in my mouth, but the presence of the children made it difficult to truly debase me.  Everything came to a head Wednesday afternoon at 4:30 once my shift had ended.  I phoned Danielle.

“Hello, slave…shouldn’t you be home by now? What’s keeping you?”

I took a deep breath.  “You are, Danielle.  I won’t be coming home.  I can’t.”

“What do you mean?  You are my slave; you’ll do whatever I tell you to.  Come home…now!”

“You told me just last week not to be a martyr—to tell you when things became too intense.  That’s what I’m doing.  This whole thing with Stuart is too much for me.  I still love you, but I hate your fantasy and I hate what Stuart is doing to you…to us.”

“You promised you would never leave me.”

“Yes, I did, but then you changed all the rules, Danielle.  You promised me that your liaisons would never affect our relationship.  Is that true now?  I think not. Do you know why I loved making love to you?  It had everything to do with your affairs.  After having sex with all those men I knew you were coming back to me—that you were still mine--that it was me that you loved.  I don’t feel that now and I don’t know if I can again.  I was and still am more than willing to be your slave, but I am not at all willing to be Stuart’s.

“You kept that fantasy a secret from me.  Well, I have a few secrets from you, my dear.  I hate homosexuality.  I find it revolting.  While you’re making me so totally submissive to you and to Stuart, how long do you think it will be before his cock is in my mouth?  How much more humiliating will that be than just watching the two of you fuck?  How long before he decides he wants to fuck my ass just to show me how little I matter?”

“I wouldn’t let him do that to you, William.”

“Excuse me for laughing, Danielle, but you haven’t exactly stood up to him yet so why would I think you’d do it about that.  You have a lot to learn about being a slave.  Here’s another thought—how long will he be satisfied with one or two times a week?  How long before he decides you are to fuck nobody but him?  How much did he pay you last week?”

“Umm…he didn’t.”

“Of course not.  Masters do not pay for sex with their slaves.  You’ll never see that $2,000 a month, and if you lose me you’ll lose my earnings, as well.  You can have him if you wish, Danielle or you can have me, but you can’t have both of us.  I just can’t do it.”

“William,” she was crying now, “I’m sorry I hurt you…I really am, but please don’t make me choose.”

“I have no other choice, Danielle.  I’m sorry.”  I ended the call and climbed back into my car.  I still had other preparations to make.  My first stop was Goodwill where I bought a nice and barely used jogging suit, a pair of socks, and some running shoes that were a bit dirty, but otherwise unused.  I also bought a baseball cap and one of those knit caps that guys wear in cold weather.  My next stop was the Home Depot where I bought several tools—a cheap claw hammer, a small pry bar, a one-inch wide steel putty knife, an inexpensive razor knife, a powerful head-mounted flashlight similar to those worn by miners, a pair of strong vinyl gloves like those used for dishwashing, and a roll of heavy duty duct tape.  I used the remaining hours of daylight to do some research.

Back in the days when I harvested rattlesnakes I had found an old mine up in the mountains.  I recalled seeing dozens of snakes there over the four years I was a student.  Now I wanted to find that mine again.  There had been a lot of development in that area just west of North Las Vegas, but this mine was well back in the mountains off a small valley.  I was surprised at the ease with which I found it. Like most of the old mines in the area it had been blocked off to prevent hikers from entering.  Using my pry bar I was able to loosen the nails on the left side of the barrier so I could fit easily through the gap between the plywood and the pole.  I could hear the rattles immediately.  They were back a bit from the entrance, maybe ten or fifteen feet.  They retreated back along the walls as I walked in, exactly as I anticipated.

Rattlesnakes, like most—but not all—poisonous snakes prefer to be left alone.  They have poison sure, but they need it to kill and capture prey and it’s not in endless supply.  It is rare that a snake will bite unless it is seriously threatened, and today I wasn’t interested.  I walked unmolested back to the shaft.  It was deep—very deep—and wide—probably ten feet by ten--perfect for what I had in mind.  I dropped a small rock and counted.  It was more than five seconds before I heard the splash below.  I wasn’t a physicist, but I knew it had to be well more than a hundred feet deep. I backed out, refastened the plywood to the pole outside the entrance, and left.

I made note of the distance and time it took to drive from the mine to Stuart’s home.  It was most considerate of him to have a listed phone; I was able to learn his address in seconds.  The sun had set by the time I cruised down his street.  He lived in a fairly new upscale development.  The houses were large with plenty of land, at least an acre each by my estimate, but the houses were few and far between.  Stuart’s sat alone at the end of a cul-de-sac, the development obviously and severely affected by the crash in the housing market.  I made a u-turn and drove around to the next block even as I wondered if this was Stuart’s project and how badly he had been impacted.  There were no houses here although the land had been divided into lots for future development.  This would be almost perfect for my plans.  I snuck carefully through the rocky terrain and cactus, easily finding my way to his back yard.  I could see and hear him on the kitchen phone—he was laughing and bragging about his recent conquest, how he had made her his slave, and how he planned to take over her life, her family, and most importantly her money.  Then he’d dump her and find another sucker.  I was pleased to notice the back door.  I’d test it the following afternoon when Stuart was fucking my wife.

Back in the car I drove immediately to Jerry’s apartment.  He welcomed me, never once asking where I had been in the hours since our shift had ended.  “I know you well enough, William to know that something’s up.  I don’t want to know any details, but will you need an alibi?”

I just nodded.  “Done; I’m sure, whatever it is, that you have a good reason.”

“The best,” I replied, “my very survival and the survival of my marriage.”

“Don’t get any better than that.”  Jerry patted my shoulder and showed me where the bathroom was.  I showered, dreaming of my wife/mistress and wondering what she had told the kids.  I cried myself to sleep.

I slept fitfully, rising in mid-morning and going out for a quick bite and coffee at a nearby Dunkin Donuts.  Then I went to the public library where I used Google and Bing to look up Stuart Hamilton.  There were plenty of articles that I skimmed over—appearances at charity balls, and donations to UNLV were not what I was after.  Finally, after almost two hours I found what I was looking for, an article from more than four years ago—“Local Developer Crippled by Housing Crash.”  I was right; Stuart owned the area where he lived, but was unable to sell even a single lot after the crash.  Lots originally priced at $250,000 or more were now bargain basement priced at $95,000 and there were few potential buyers even at that price.  Stuart needed money and it looked like Danielle was going to be one of the sources.

I left around one and drove to Stuart’s street, arriving just in time to see him rush out into his car.  I followed him for a while until I was sure he was heading for Danielle’s.  Then I turned around and drove to the street behind his house.  Sitting in the car I changed into my jogging suit, socks, and running shoes.  The ball cap completed my outfit.  I wasn’t about to take a chance of blood or other evidence on my own clothing.  Nor was I going to leave fibers that could be traced back to me.  Should I be seen I’d be just another health-conscious jogger—there were thousands in the Vegas area.  Once the tail gate was opened I donned my gloves and began to assemble my tools, taping the three pieces of rebar I’d found together.  I had read online that number 5 rebar weighed about a pound per linear foot.  My three sections, each roughly three feet long would amount to a nine-pound cudgel, one that I hoped would crush Stuart’s skull to mush.

I maintained a low profile as I snuck through the brush.  My only tool was the putty knife which I wedged between the inexpensive molding and the door jamb until I was able to slip the lock.  I opened the door half expecting to hear an alarm, but it was silent.  I sneaked inside and wandered quickly through the first floor of the house.  I found an alarm panel by the front door, but I could see it wasn’t armed.  He had left for Danielle without setting the alarm.  Had it been set I would be out the back door and gone before the police arrived.  Once they had left I would repeat again and again until they thought the system was shorted out.  Then--and only then--would I enter the house.

I retreated to my SUV for my rebar and the duct tape.  There was a door from the garage to the laundry room and kitchen and I was betting Stuart would use that if he returned that night.  I was able to stand between the wall and the washing machine behind the door where I’d hopefully intercept him and knock him unconscious or kill him outright, although I was hoping he’d survive so I could punish him for what he’d tried to do to Danielle and me.

I was there for more than an hour when my phone vibrated.  It was Danielle.  “Oh, William—he hurt me.  He punched me in my face and body because you weren’t here.  Won’t you please come home?”

“No, Danielle you should have considered this before acting out your idiotic fantasy.  You know as well as I do that slaves are punished.  Haven’t you punished me?”

“Yes, of course, but I never really hurt you, did I?  He hurt me.  My face is bruised and swollen.  Please come home.”

“Is he still there?  Is he staying the night?”

“Yes, he’s still here, but he says he can’t stay overnight.  He has an important meeting first thing in the morning.  Here, I want you to speak with him.”

“What a coward you are.  You’ll allow your Mistress to be injured because you’re not even the lowest kind of man.  No wonder you’re a slave.  That’s better than you deserve.”

“Maybe, but what kind of man punches a defenseless woman?  We’ll meet one of these days and I doubt you’ll like the result.”  I ended the call and turned my phone off before I said anything that would give away my plans.  I leaned against the wall to rest and relax while I waited.

It was almost three hours later that I heard the garage door open and the car, a recent model Escalade, drive into the garage.  I picked up the rebar, hoisted it over my head and waited.  As I expected, he entered through the laundry room door.  He hadn’t taken two steps when I swung down with all my strength.  To my surprise he staggered, but didn’t go down.  I swung again and this time he fell to the floor.  I dropped the rebar and unwound a strip of duct tape.  I pulled his arms straight back with his palms facing outward while I ran eight or ten winds of tape around his wrists.  Next I taped his ankles together and wrapped several turns around his head effectively gagging him to silence.  I finished the job by taping his elbows together and his knees, as well.  I put the knit cap over his head to staunch any possible bleeding and dragged him out to the Escalade, loading him into the rear seat.  I opened the garage door and backed out into the street.

My adrenaline was pumping as I drove away en route to the mine; I was sure my heartbeat was 150 or higher.  I stopped first at my SUV for my snake rod, my head-mounted flashlight, and the rest of my tools.  I dropped off the duct tape and putty knife. Up the highway into the mountains I drove, keeping the big vehicle under the speed limit.  I was at the mine less than an hour later.  It was dark as pitch when I turned out the car’s lights.

Pulling the plywood away from the pole was a breeze.  Dragging Stuart through the space was harder.  He was dead weight even though he wasn’t quite dead.  Once in by the mine shaft I returned to his car for my snake rod, the razor knife, and a bottle of water I’d taken from his refrigerator.  I poured the water over his face, reviving him.  I cut and pulled the duct tape from his head and mouth so he could speak.  “Hi there, Stuart, I told you that you wouldn’t like the results of our meeting.  Believe me now? I’ve only just begun.  See this, it’s a snake rod.  I usually use it to keep snakes away, but now I’m bringing them to you.  I saw a beautiful big Mohave rattler here yesterday.  I’ll bet he’ll bite you a couple of times by the time I’m done tormenting him.  I’m told that a snake bite can be excruciatingly painful.  I hope so because it will be the last thing you’ll remember before you die.”

“Don’t…please…I’ll leave Danielle alone.  This slave thing was all her idea anyway.”

“Too late for that, Stuart--you made her do terrible things to me and now you’ve beaten her.  You planned on dominating me and taking her money.  Don’t deny it; I heard you say in on the phone just last night.  You deserve this and more.”  I stood and aimed the light on my head toward the side of the cave where several rattlers waited.  Stuart tried to escape, but his efforts were pitiful and completely useless.  A kick in the ribs stilled him.  The constant rattling told me just how nervous the snakes were.  I pulled Stuart’s pants leg up over his knee as I leaned forward with the snake rod.  I used the bent section at the end to pull the Mohave toward us.  He tried to get away, but every time he did I moved the crook to pull him even closer.  He made several false strikes in his frustration, but I continued until he was less than a foot from Stuart’s leg.  Now I changed tactics, hitting the snake to rouse its anger.  Suddenly, it struck, biting deeply into his calf muscle.  Stuart screamed in pain; it was music to my ears.  I let the Mohave go and targeted another snake, a Western Diamondback about five feet long.  It too struck and bit into Stuart’s calf after I had tormented it cruelly.  I dropped the snake rod and cut the tape from Stuart’s body; he was beyond resisting.  Before pushing him into the abyss I removed his wallet and counted out eight hundred dollars—payment for what he had done to Danielle and me.  I stuffed the wallet back into his pocket and rolled him toward the mine shaft.  I shoved him with my foot once he was at the edge.  I heard his body ricochet off the walls several times as he fell then I welcomed the sound of the splash at the bottom of the shaft.  The tape was gathered up along with the water bottle and my tools.  I backed out of the cave toward the car.  Everything went into the black trash bag for disposal after the plywood barrier was firmly reattached.  A huge smile on my face, I drove back down.  With luck it would be twenty years or longer before Stuart’s body was discovered.  Even if the cave was opened it was still unlikely that anyone could see all the way down that black pit to the bottom.

I returned Stuart’s Escalade to the garage, exited out the rear kitchen door and fixed the loose molding before walking slowly back to my SUV.  I changed out of my outfit back into my own clothes.  My Goodwill clothes went into a brown bag from the supermarket.  I dropped it into a Salvation Army bin a few minutes later.  My tools were dumped into some trash bins at a nearby strip mall.  My gloves were dropped into the dumpster at Jerry’s apartment complex.  Jerry was watching TV when I walked in.  One look at my face told him a lot.  “You were here with me all day, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was…all day and all night.  Didn’t we spend the last three or four hours reviewing blackjack strategies?”  I excused myself to phone Danielle.  I feigned ignorance as I asked, “How are you?  Is he still there?”

“I’m hurt, William.  Won’t you please come home?  I need you.  I love you.”

“I love you, too.  I’ll come home, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll stay.”  I thanked Jerry as we reviewed our story once again, gathered my stuff and drove the six miles to Danielle’s home.  I took one look at her face and walked upstairs to get my pistol as though I was going to shoot that asshole.  “Please don’t, William I can’t afford to lose you.  We’ll figure out what to do.  Please, just hold me.”  I walked her to the couch and helped her down.  I removed her blouse and slacks, cringing when I saw the bruises on her ribs, back, and butt in addition to those on her face.  I was going to get some ice, but I had no idea where to put it.

“What will we do, William?  He’s coming back tomorrow afternoon.  He said he’d beat me again if you weren’t here.”  She began to cry.

I decided to come clean.  “Don’t worry, Danielle he won’t come tomorrow or any other day.  Don’t ask me about it because I’m not going to tell you.  I guarantee that you’ll never see him again.  But, now we need to call the police.  You’ll press charges for assault and anything else the cops can think of.  You’ll explain that you had an affair and we argued about it.  I stayed with my friend Jerry Palmer until you called and told me that he had beaten you.  Wouldn’t you say that was pretty much the truth?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to be arrested.”

“They will question me, but Jerry will give me an alibi.  We sat around and played blackjack for hours, analyzing hands and probabilities until you phoned me.  Then I came right home.  Anyone in your situation would call the police.  In fact, I’m going to do it.  It’ll be better this way—believe me.  We’ll be on the offense.  Otherwise, once they find Stuart missing I’ll definitely be a suspect and I’ll be on the defensive side of the issue.”  I dialed 911, identified myself and explained, “My wife and I had an argument and I left to stay with a friend.  She’d had an affair and I was afraid I’d do or say something I’d later regret.  Instead, her boyfriend came over and when she tried to end it he beat her up.”  I stopped for a few seconds while the operator asked a few questions then I continued, “Stuart Hamilton…that’s what she told me.  I think she will need an ambulance, too.  She’s badly bruised.  I’m afraid she might have a broken rib or two.”  I gave our address and we sat back to wait for the police.

Several officers arrived minutes later.  I went to the door to greet them, pointing them to Danielle on the couch.  I had covered her with a robe, not that Danielle was ever modest.  She gave her statement--I’d caught her in an affair and we’d argued.  I’d left to stay with my friend and co-worker returning only when she phoned me to tell me that her ex-lover had beaten her up.  She explained that they had met at her job as a cocktail waitress and that he had offered her money in return for sex.  These were Las Vegas cops; I was sure they’d heard this story hundreds of times.  I’d found the money and figured out where it had come from.  I showed them the bills I had taken from Stuart’s wallet.

I was questioned and I admitted that I’d probably kill the son of a bitch if I ever saw him around Danielle again.  They told me that I could only get away with that was if I caught him fucking my wife.  Danielle commented that it was never going to happen again.  Finally, after almost an hour Danielle was taken to the hospital.  We knew that the story would make the news so I went first to see her parents and the kids to explain.  It was tough—one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do--but it was better that they learn from me than on page one of our local newspapers.  It was especially difficult for Lizy and Steve.  They knew that I hadn’t come home last night and now they knew why.  I took them with me to the hospital to see their mother.  There was a lot of crying and hugging, but not too tightly—Danielle had a cracked rib to go along with her numerous bruises.  I kissed her good night as she whispered into my ear, “You can sleep in the bed tonight and every other night, too.  I love you.”

“I’ve always loved you…even back in ancient Egypt when we first met.” I kissed her again and took the kids home.

Danielle missed more than a month of work as she recovered from her injuries.  She had a lot of vacation time accumulated, but even with that she still lost two weeks pay.  I waited on her hand and foot, but I never again was required to drink her urine.  We did agree that I was due a punishment for leaving her, but somehow that punishment never materialized.  Mostly, we talked with each other as we’d never talked before.  Our relationship grew stronger—yes, I was still her slave and she was still my Mistress.  I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The police returned to speak with us a few days after Danielle had come home.  They wanted to know if either of us had heard from Stuart Hamilton.  “No, we haven’t,” I replied, “I’ve been home with my wife every second since her return from the hospital and I’ve answered the phone every time.”

“We haven’t been able to locate him.  His car is at his home, but he’s disappeared.  There was some slight damage to his back door, but no visible sign of forced entry.  Nothing seems to be out of place.  It’s a real mystery.  We have heard that he owed some serious money—gambling debts—in addition to the money he lost in the housing crash, but we haven’t been able to confirm anything.  Please let us know immediately if he calls or shows up here.”

“You think he really would after all that’s occurred?”  I was incredulous.

“Stranger things have happened.”  He shook my hand as I escorted him to the door.  Once there he asked me about my alibi, “You’re a blackjack dealer and you spent your day off playing blackjack?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “Jerry is a good friend, but he’s still learning.  I’ve done the same for a few others at the casino.”

“I know,” he said, “We always check alibis carefully—glad yours checked out.”  I nodded my agreement and he left.

”Care to tell me where he is, darling?”

“Nope.” 

“Suppose I order you to tell me.”

“Then you’ll have to punish me, but it won’t do you a bit of good.  I’m not telling.”  I never did tell her either, even though she threatened to whip me several times—promises, promises.

I knew we were good one night when I helped Danielle into bed.  “Who’s your Mistress,” she asked sternly.

“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?”

“Let’s just make sure you do.”  She opened her legs and I fell to the floor in an instant, kissing and licking her pussy.  All told I licked her to five orgasms over the next hour, her first in more than a month.  My face was covered with her secretions.  “I’ll bet you’d love to fuck me.”

“Yes, I would…very much.”

“Then you’d better get up here and do me.  I doubt I’ll be getting any other cock for the rest of my life.”  I looked at her in disbelief.  “I know how much you worried about my safety, but I never really believed I could be hurt.  I thought I was invincible.  Now I know different and I don’t like what can happen.  I’m afraid.  This has been a real eye opener for me—in more ways than one.  I know now exactly how much you love me…and how much I love you.  We have enough money.  My gamboling days are over.”  I reached up to kiss her.  It was long and hot, expressing our love for each other.  It went on and on until she gripped my cock and pulled it to her cunt.  I made the sweetest love to my wife—my wonderful Mistress.

EPILOG

It was almost two years later that the state announced it would permanently seal all the mine entrances in the area with reinforced concrete.  An unfortunate number of accidents involving unsuspecting people had forced the government to act.  There had been several serious falls resulting in broken bones and even a few deaths, not to mention some severe snake bites.  I drove Danielle out to the cave under the guise of saving as many snakes as possible.  Indeed, I managed to get seven out of the cave and relocated before the construction crew shooed me away.  We watched silently as the concrete sealed the entrance, if not forever then certainly for longer than my lifetime.

“We’re not really here to save snakes, are we,” Danielle asked.

“Well, partially—I thought you might want to say good-bye one final time to Stuart.  He’s at the bottom of the shaft.  I don’t know if there’s anything left of his body, but if there is there will be two rattlesnake bites in his leg.  You know how dangerous these caves can be.”

“Yes, I do.  I also know how much my slave loves me, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do, Mistress…yes, you do.”  I drove home to a long weekend of making love to my Mistress.

I staggered into the house on a Saturday evening almost two weeks later, exhausted from having worked a twelve-hour shift at the blackjack tables and looking forward to three days off.  Lizy and Steve were in the living room watching TV when I asked them, “Where’s your mom?”

“Upstairs,” they replied together, “packing for a business trip.”  It was fortunate they were engrossed in the show or they would have seen the total look of shock in my face.  I rushed up the stairs to find my Mistress in her sexiest black bra and panties.

“Oh, good—you’re just in time to help me with my stockings.”

“I thought you were finished with this.”

“I was.  Then I realized there was a way for me to be completely safe.  You’re coming with me.  Just think of how many times you can clean me.  Doesn’t that sound exciting?  Things have been getting stale between us lately.”

“You know, I’m still not sure that I can sit in a room and watch you fuck some stranger.”

“You worry too much.  This will be different, trust me.  You do trust me, don’t you?”

I was stuck.  Danielle was nothing less than outstanding when it came to twisting my words against me.  “Of course I do.  It’s just that this has taken me by surprise.”

“Good, that’s settled.  Come here and kiss my pussy.”  I did as ordered, but I wasn’t very happy.  Danielle was just about to pull her panties aside when I heard her parents downstairs.  She shooed me out to greet and thank them for watching the kids on such short notice.

I met them in the hallway, gave them the customary hugs, handshake, and kiss before hugging and kissing the kids and sending them out the door.  I was glum as I walked the way back to my mistress.  She was almost completely dressed when I arrived.  I knelt to help her into her heels then rose to carry the two overnight bags—hers and mine—down to the car.  Two hours later we boarded a flight to San Francisco.

Danielle checked us into a hotel near Fisherman’s Wharf and, once in our room, directed me to unpack and place the clothes into the closet and dresser while she freshened up.  I was sitting on the bed, head down when she returned from the bathroom.  “Get up and stand in the corner.  He’ll be here any minute.”  I rose and did as instructed, watching with amazement while my Mistress did the most incredible striptease, removing her garments slowly and throwing them haphazardly around the room.  She was dressed only in her garter belt, stockings, and shoes when she was done. I stood stock still until Danielle pushed her big tits into my chest and kissed me passionately, her tongue driving into my mouth.  I was reluctant at first, but I had never been able to resist my Mistress Danielle.  She pulled back once she had reached down into my pants to grip my rock-hard erection.  “Ah…I see my date has arrived.”  Confusion was written all over my face.

“Do you know what today is, William?”

“Saturday,” I responded.”

“Of course; I know that, but of what significance is this particular Saturday?”  She reached up to kiss me again.  “It was exactly two years ago today that you rescued me from Stuart…and myself.  I decided I needed a date with my knight—my hero.  Even a slave can be a hero, you know.  It will be just you and me, and,” stroking my hard cock again, “this big guy here for the next two days.”

“Did you have to scare the crap out of me like that?”

“No, but you were so funny.  Now, I suggest you strip so we can get to business.  This is a business trip, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress…you’re right, as always.”  I smiled for the first time since I’d arrived home.  Somehow, I was sure I’d smile again and again before this trip was done.