SIMON SAYS

1

Elaine had only been in the apartment for ten minutes when the phone rang. She picked it up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"It's me," Simon said. "I will be there shortly, and I will be bringing an associate with me. Set yourself up." And he hung up.

Elaine replaced the receiver slowly and then sat without moving for several minutes. Then she got up, went into the bedroom and took off all her clothes. Completely naked, she walked into the wide foyer that served as the entrance to the apartment. About ten feet from the front door a pair of manacles rested on the floor, one on either side of the hallway. Each was attached to a chain, the other end of which was set into the wall near the floor. A set of handcuffs hung from a chain set into the middle of the ceiling. Using her bare feet, Elaine drew each of the manacles away from the wall toward the center of the foyer, as far as its chain would stretch. She then crouched down and fastened one of them around her left ankle, adjusting it so that it held her snugly without cutting off her circulation. She had to stand up in order to move her legs far enough apart so that her right foot could reach the other manacle. With her legs spread so widely it was difficult for her to bend enough to fasten it around her right ankle, but she did so. Then, balancing herself with great effort on her radically splayed feet, she reached up for the dangling handcuffs, which she was just able to grasp. She had to stretch to do it, and it took her several tries, but she finally managed to secure the cuffs tightly around her wrists, her right hand clicking the steel band around her left wrist, and vice versa. Now she stood there, in a kind of inverted Y, her whole body taut and straining, completely unable to move, her limbs already aching, her full breasts lifted and tightened by her raised arms, her rounded thighs quivering with strain, all of her open, helpless and completely naked, facing the door. She would be the first thing Simon's friend would see when he entered the apartment.

It was not the first time she had been in this position, but still she was surprised at how quickly it became unbearable. The stress on her widely stretched legs was so great that they soon became unable to support her and she was forced to let herself hang by her wrists. But the strain on her arms and shoulders, not to mention the clasp of the cruel metal cuffs around her abraded wrists, swiftly made that option untenable as well, and she had to compel herself to stand on her feet again as well as she could, until she couldn't any more, and the cycle began again.

When she heard herself moaning she told herself to stop. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Not a moan, not a whimper, not a gasp. But it was no good. She couldn't stop the whimpers, or the gasps, and after a while she stopped trying. She was moaning almost continuously by the time she finally heard Simon's key in the lock.

His friend came in first though, Simon having stepped politely aside to let him precede his host. And, as planned, she was the first thing he saw. He stopped still in his tracks, staring at her. Simon came in after him and closed the door.

"Richard, I'd like you to meet my wife," he said.

* * *

She remembered the first time.

She had known Simon for a month, and they had just gotten engaged. They were sitting in a restaurant that night, celebrating their engagement with a fancy dinner. Elaine had never been so happy. She and Simon were discussing their honeymoon plans when Simon interrupted what she was saying by pointing over to a thin, nondescript young man sitting alone across the room.

"You see that man over there?" Simon said. "With the blue suit on?"

Elaine looked. "Yes," she said, smiling, because she loved Simon's spontaneity, as she loved everything about him. "I see him. Why?"

"I want you to go over there and tell him you want to suck his cock for him," Simon said.

Elaine stared at him, her smile fading slowly. "What?" she said.

Simon was looking at her calmly. "I want you to go over and tell that man that you want to suck his cock for him," he repeated. "And then, if he agrees, as I'm sure he will, I want you to do it."

Elaine still stared. Then she began to smile again, though less brightly. "This is a joke, right?" she said, trying to laugh.

"No," Simon said. "It's not a joke."

His face was still calm, his brown eyes steady on hers. She was so stunned she didn't know how to react. She shook her head in bewilderment.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded.

"No," Simon said. "I am perfectly sane."

"But--but what do you--what are you--I mean--Jesus, Simon! Who is he, anyway?"

"I have no idea," Simon said.

"Then why would you--how can you--"

"It's just something I want you to do, Elaine."

"But--but WHY?"

"To please me," Simon said.

Elaine blinked her eyes, as if trying to wake up from a dream. Simon just waited.

"No way!" Elaine said then. "Are you out of your mind, Simon? I'm not going to--with some stranger--Oh Christ, I know this is some kind of gag, right? What, did you make a bet with your buddies or something? Some kind of a test? Come on, Simon. This is our engagement dinner, for god's sake!"

"So you won't," Simon said.

"No, of course I won't! Even if I thought you were serious. What the hell do you think I am?"

"My future wife," Simon said.

"Well, I am that," Elaine said. "But I--I don't believe you want your future wife sucking off some strange man in the middle of a crowded restaurant. I don't believe that for a minute."

"No," Simon said. "I don't expect you to actually do it in the restaurant, merely to tell him what you want to do, which can be done without drawing attention. Once he agrees, you may take him somewhere more private--the ladies' room perhaps, or the men's room, or somewhere else--and do it for him there."

"Well, forget it," Elaine said. "I still don't think you're serious, but forget it."

"When you have finished," Simon said, "you will return to the table and we can go on talking about our honeymoon."

There was a pause. "Why don't we go on talking about it now?" Elaine said.

Simon resumed eating.

"Simon?" Elaine said.

Simon said nothing.

"You're scaring me," Elaine said.

"Your dinner is getting cold," Simon said.

Elaine resumed eating.

"I'm not going to do it," she said after a while.

"It's your choice," Simon said.

"Then can we talk about our honeymoon?"

"Of course," Simon said.

Elaine talked. Simon said nothing.

After a while Elaine stopped talking. Simon was still eating. Elaine lay down her knife and fork and sat quietly for a few moments. Then she pushed back her chair, got up, and walked slowly across the restaurant to where the young man was still sitting. She didn't look back at Simon.

"Excuse me," she said to the man.

He looked up, surprised.

Elaine swallowed. "May I--may I sit down for a moment?"

The man's eyes narrowed. He nodded warily.

She sat across from him. She still didn't look over at Simon. She took a deep breath.

"Here's the thing," she said. "My fiance is sitting over there, and he asked me to come over and tell you that I'd like to suck your cock." She said it quickly, before she could stop herself.

The man stared at her as she must have stared at Simon. "What?" he said.

She had to swallow before she could say it again. "You heard me," she said. "My fiance wants me to tell you that I'd like to suck your cock. So I'm telling you. Okay?"

He was frowning. "Is this a joke?"

"That's what I said. No, it's not."

"It's a trick then. You a hooker? I don't have that much--"

"I'm not a hooker. I don't want your money."

"You and your boyfriend--it's a badger game, right? I'm not--"

"No. There's no trick. But if you're not interested, fine. That's fine. In fact, I hope to hell you're not. Okay?"

"Well...what if I am? I mean, of course I am. I mean, you're a gorgeous woman, and you just--So what if I say yes?"

"Then I guess I'll do it," Elaine said. "That's what he wants me to do."

"Jesus," the young man said. "Where?"

"The men's room," Elaine said, not believing herself. "The ladies' room. Or--"

"I have a room in this hotel," the man said.

"All right," Elaine said. "Let's go."

.

It didn't take long. The young man--she never even learned his name--wanted her to undress, but Simon had only told her to suck him off, not to indulge any of his whims, so she refused. He sat in a chair and she got down on her knees and opened his pants and took out his cock and sucked him off. She was self-conscious and angry with herself for doing this, and she did it rather mechanically, but it was plenty good enough for him, and he shot into her mouth within three minutes.

She didn't swallow it--Simon had not told her to. She got up, spit out his come into the bathroom sink, washed out her mouth and left.

She went down to the restaurant and rejoined Simon at their table.

"I did it," she said.

"Good," Simon said. "Tell me about it."

She did so. When she had finished she said, "How do you know I'm not just making this up?"

"I trust you," Simon said.

"Good," Elaine said. "Can we talk about our honeymoon now?"

"Of course, darling," Simon said.

2

Six months after celebrating their engagement, Elaine and Simon had been married. It was an elaborate affair, as Simon came from a large and wealthy family who were very traditional about such ceremonies. They had insisted that the wedding take place on the spacious grounds of their country house. The guests numbered in the hundreds, and every detail had been carefully planned in advance.

About half an hour before the ceremony was to take place, Elaine was standing in the small bedroom that had been designated as her dressing room, gazing into the mirror at the sight of herself in her wedding dress, a rather fanciful costume of white silk and lace which ordinarily she would have thought silly, but which, she had to admit, set off her dark beauty and the curves of her sensuous body, not blatantly but effectively.

She was very excited. She was actually about to be married to the man she loved more than anyone in the world, and it almost felt like a dream. In the six months since their engagement dinner, Simon had treated her like an angel. He had made no further requests of her such as the one he had made that evening, and in fact had never even referred to the incident since then; and neither had she. She told herself it had been an aberration on his part, some kind of test she had to pass to show her devotion. When she thought of it, it was still with revulsion, and with anger at herself; but most of the time she tried to put it out of her mind.

She was putting the final touches to her long dark hair when there was a knock on the door. She called, "Come in!" and when the door opened she was surprised to see Simon enter the room, all dressed for the ceremony in white tie and tails. With him was another man who she did not know, a round, middle-aged man in a natty-looking suit and tie.

"Simon!" Elaine said, smiling at him. "What are you doing here? I thought this was supposed to be such a traditional wedding! Don't you know the groom isn't supposed to see the bride just before the ceremony?"
"Well, there are traditions and traditions," Simon replied, smiling back at her. "Elaine, this is Reverend Brady. He's the minister who's going to perform the wedding."

"Oh," Elaine said, surprised. "Well...how do you do, Reverend. It's nice to meet you." But it was obvious that she was bewildered at his presence there with her groom-to-be.

Simon explained. "You see, Elaine, there's another tradition in my family. Which is that the minister should get paid before he actually officiates at the ceremony."

Elaine seemed more confused than before. She gave a little laugh. "Well...I guess that's a good idea," she said uncertainly. "But what--"

"Well, Reverend Brady hasn't been paid yet, you see," Simon said.

"I--I don't understand," Elaine stammered. "Do you--do you want ME to pay him?"

"Yes," Simon said. "I do."

A terrible suspicion began to form in her mind, but she quickly smothered it. In a determined effort to keep it from growing, she didn't even ask him why in the world she should be expected to remunerate the minister, or whether this unusual practice was also a family tradition. Instead she rather confusedly began to search for her purse, and when she found it, extracted her checkbook. "How much?" she asked.

But Simon was shaking his head. "No, Elaine. It's not money the reverend wants for his services. It's you."

"What?" Elaine said tonelessly.

"His payment is to be able to have sex with the bride before the ceremony," Simon said. His voice was calm, almost casual. "My family is really set on having him as the minister, you see--he's an old family friend and all--so he and I arrived at this arrangement."

Elaine could not speak. She could hardly think. There was a long silence. She just stood there gazing at Simon in disbelief, while he looked back at her expressionlessly. She could not bring herself to look at the minister.

Finally she found her voice. "Simon," she said, in as controlled a manner as she could. "May I speak to you alone, please?"

"There's no need for that, Elaine," Simon said. "There's no reason the reverend can't hear what we have to say. I told you, he's a family friend."

"I see," Elaine said. She was trembling now. "All right. Fine. Then let me tell both of you that I have no intention of having sex with a man I've never even seen before on the day of my wedding. And also that this is the most outrageous, insulting and...and preposterous thing I've ever heard!" She was almost sobbing. "Oh god, Simon, how could you? Would you really want me to--How can you be so horrible?"

"Well, Elaine, I thought you wanted to get married," Simon said. "You do, don't you?"

Elaine knew that she should tell him that now she wasn't so sure. That a man who could ask her to do these things was not the kind of man she wanted for a husband. But she couldn't say that. She loved him.

"Yes," she said. "You know I do, Simon. But--"

"Well, the thing is, you see, that if the reverend doesn't get paid his agreed-upon fee, he won't perform the ceremony. No ceremony, no wedding."

"That's ridiculous!" Elaine burst out. "We'll just get someone else."

Simon shook his head again. "No. My family won't stand for that. And neither will I. We engaged Reverend Brady to do the job, and it wouldn't be right to replace him with someone else. If he doesn't officiate at this wedding--and without being paid, he won't--then we'll have to call it off."

Elaine stared at him again. There were tears in her eyes. "Simon," she choked out, "are you saying that if I don't--give myself to this man, right here and now, that you won't marry me at all?"

Simon shrugged. "That's how it would have to be, darling."

Then it's off , Elaine started to say. I don't want to marry you anyway. You are a horrible man. But she didn't say it. She just looked at him, and as she did the tears overflowed her eyes and ran down her face. But after a minute she brushed them away. And then, for the first time, she turned and looked directly at the minister.

"What--what do you want me to do?" she said.

But it was Simon who answered. "Take your panties off, Elaine," he said. "Then just lift your dress up and lie down on the bed. That's all. And I'll be here with you the whole time."

She was numb. As with the man in the restaurant, a part of her couldn't believe she was actually doing this, even as she did. She wasn't crying now, but she was trembling. She pulled up the long, full skirt of her wedding dress so that she could reach under it for her panties. Her face burned as she slid the flimsy undergarment down over her hips and down her stockinged legs. She bent awkwardly to pull them off over her high-heeled shoes. Then she straightened up and once again tugged at the lower part of her dress, this time raising it to her waist and holding it there. Then, with stiff-legged movements, she stepped over to the bed and lay down on her back, still holding her dress. Without being told, she raised her knees and spread her thighs apart. And she rolled her head to one side and closed her eyes.

"No, darling," Simon said. "Look at me. Let me see in your eyes how much you love me."

For a moment she didn't move. Then she turned her head and opened her eyes, looking up into Simon's face. She heard the rasp of a zipper being opened, and then the reverend was on top of her, still fully dressed, his hands pushing her thighs even wider, his hard cock poking at her opening. She cried out as he pushed himself into her, the sound mixing with his triumphant grunt. Simon smiled at her, and she continued to look into his eyes as the reverend rutted at her, plunging with hard but uncoordinated strokes in and out of her lifeless body. His grunting got louder and louder, until he gave a hoarse cry and thrust himself deep inside her, spurting again and again. And then it was over.

"Good girl," Simon said. "Paid in full, I believe, Reverend. And now we'd better go down and have the wedding, don't you think?"

.

Everyone agreed that it was a beautiful ceremony. Elaine thought so too, even as she stood there promising to love, honor and obey her new husband, with the Reverend Brady's come still running down her legs.

3

It had been a very traditional wedding. She had promised to love, honor and obey her husband. But there were limits, Elaine thought, and given what had happened before the wedding she was determined to make that clear. On the first night of their honeymoon in Paris, after she and Simon had made glorious love, she brought up the subject.

"Darling," she began, still pressed close to his naked body in their luxurious bed. "Now that we're married, and I'm...I'm truly your wife, you won't--you won't want to share me with anybody else any more, will you?"

"What do you mean, darling?" Simon said.

"You know. You won't ask me to do things like--like I did with that minister, or with that man in the restaurant that time. I--I don't know why you wanted me to do that, Simon, but if you wanted to test my love for you or something, you don't have to do that any more. I did it because I love you, and I still love you, and now I'm your wife, so...so please don't ask me to do things like that again, all right, darling? I don't want anybody but you, ever."
"I understand that, Elaine," Simon said. "And I don't want anybody but you either. But you must understand that circumstances may arise occasionally in which, as your husband, I may have to ask you to do things which you might not find altogether to your liking. But as a dutiful wife, I know you will do your best to please me. That's what marriage is, after all. Two people desiring to make each other happy, and sometimes making sacrifices to that end. Isn't that right?"

Elaine tried not to let her apprehension show in her voice. "Well yes, darling, but it's also about two people being faithful to each other. 'Forsaking all others,' isn't that what the minister said?"

Simon's tone was cooler than before. "He also said--and you agreed--that a wife should love, honor and obey her husband. I am your husband, Elaine, and I expect you to obey me. In all things."

"But Simon--" Elaine sat up in the bed. She was shivering a little, although the room wasn't cold. She tried to keep her voice steady. "Darling, you're not--are you saying that you--that you intend to go on asking me to do things like that? To--to have sex with other men? Because--" She took a deep breath. "Because I won't do that, Simon. I won't do it any more. I'm not a slut. I hated doing that with those men. I can't--I can't do it any more. Please don't ask me." Simon was silent, and she went on. "Oh darling, please, can't we just have a regular marriage? Can't we just love each other and be happy? I'll do anything to make you happy, Simon, as long as it doesn't involve--"

"No!" Simon interrupted her. "Not 'as long as,' Elaine. There are no conditions. There are no qualifications. You are my wife. You will do anything to make me happy. Period. Is that clear?"

She stared at him in silence, and she felt tears gathering in her eyes. His coldness frightened her, and her love for him, the power of it, frightened her even more. But she mustered all her courage. "And if I don't?" she said quaveringly. "What will you do? Divorce me?"

Simon sat up abruptly and swung himself out of the bed. Standing over her, he looked directly into her eyes. "No," he said evenly. "I will never divorce you. But if you do not act as a proper wife, our marriage will be a sham. An empty shell. If you defy me, Elaine, you will kill all my love for you. And you will be miserable for the rest of your life."

With that he turned away from her and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Elaine continued to sit where she was, too stunned even to cry.

.

Simon's business contacts were extensive, even in Europe. On the third night of their stay in Paris, he and his bride were invited to have dinner at the home of a wealthy French industrialist with whom his company often did business. It was to be a formal dinner party, and although she had brought several evening dresses with her on their trip, Simon insisted on buying her a new gown for the occasion. He was very sweet to her, as if to make up for the coldness of his words a couple of nights before. Elaine had not ventured to raise that subject again, and Simon acted as if everything was settled between them. She, on the other hand, felt profoundly unsettled, and even fearful; but as long as Simon was warm and loving with her, her happiness and her helpless love for him overwhelmed everything else.

When they arrived at their destination, an elegantly appointed home in the suburbs of the city, Elaine was surprised to find that they were the only guests. Simon introduced her to their host, Jacques Bertrand, a portly man in his late forties, and his somewhat younger wife, Annette. She found them both quite pleasant, although it was difficult for her to make converstion, as their accented English was limited. Elaine did not speak French at all, although Simon was fluent in it. During the dinner, which was excellent, he and Bertrand kept up a continual flow of talk, mostly about business, Elaine supposed. Her part of the conversation consisted mostly of complimenting Annette on the food and making the occasional remark about the weather and other trivialities.

Then, halfway through the meal, the dialogue between the two men appeared to take a more personal turn. She saw Bertrand glancing at her several times as he spoke to Simon, and Simon doing the same, with a smile, as he replied. She wondered what they were saying, but could barely make out a word of their rapid French. She could only hope it was complimentary.

Finally Simon turned to her. "Monsieur Bertrand has been complimenting me on you, Elaine. He says you are very lovely, and he admires your dress."

"Well, thank you," she said, and she turned to Bertrand with a smile. " Merci ," she said to him, which was about the extent of her French. Bertrand smiled back, and resumed his converation with her husband.

Simon nodded as the other spoke, and they exchanged a few more words. Then he turned to her again. "Monsieur Bertrand says you have an excellent figure, my dear. As a Frenchman, of course, he is a connoisseur of such things. I've told him you would be flattered by his praise. Not that you don't deserve it, of course."

Elaine felt a sudden chill. Surely he wasn't-- But no. She was becoming too paranoid. This was just a kind of Gallic gallantry. She hid her consternation as she smiled at Bertrand again. "Tell him he is very kind, and that I am indeed flattered," she said. "But--" She glanced at Annette, still smiling, "with a wife as beautiful as his, he has no need to envy you yours."

Simon translated her remark--although she was beginning to suspect that Bertrand knew more English than he let on--and the Frenchman smiled appreciatively, and then exchanged some more words with her husband. Though she didn't understand the words, Elaine was not reassured by the tone of the conversation, or by the way Bertrand kept looking at her. She felt herself tense up with apprehension as Simon turned to her again.

"Monsieur Bertrand is particularly taken with your breasts, Elaine," he said.

She felt herself flushing. Her evening gown was rather low-cut, displaying some of the upper curves of her breasts and a bit of cleavage, though not blatantly. She had to make a conscious effort not to fold her arms in front of them. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

"In fact, he would like to see them," Simon said.

There was a pounding in her head, and she felt stricken, as though she couldn't move. Had he really said that? Yes. Of course. He was looking at her calmly, as though he had asked her to pass the salt. Did he really expect her to--

"I'm sorry?" she managed to say, as if she hadn't heard him.

"I said Monsieur Bertrand would like to see your breasts," Simon repeated. "He just wants to look at them, Elaine. Our host appreciates beautiful things, and I have assured him that your bosom is indeed a work of art. Naturally, he would like to see it. Please show it to him. To us."

She felt that she was trembling, although it didn't seem to show. She had been staring at Simon, and now she glanced quickly at Bertrand, whose eyes seemed to be devouring her, and just as quickly looked away. She turned to Annette, but the girl simply smiled blandly and gave a little shrug. No help there.

She put down her fork and took a long, shuddering breath. "No, Simon," she said as firmly as she could. "I won't."

She saw his eyes change. "What?" he said softly.

She clenched her fists under the table, steeling herself. "I said I won't," she made herself say. "I can't do that, Simon. I can't just--just display myself to a stranger. I won't do it."

Simon's eyes were opaque. "Elaine," he said--and his voice, she thought somehow matched his eyes--"you are embarrassing me. Monsieur Bertrand is our host, and my friend. It would be rude to refuse this simple request."

"And I am your wife, Simon," Elaine said, fighting back her tears. "And we talked about this, remember? You just--you just can't ask me to do things like this. It's not right. It's not fair. I'm--I'm sorry if Mr. Bertrand doesn't understand, but--but you shouldn't have--"

"I'm asking you once more, Elaine," Simon interrupted her. "It's very simple. Just open your dress and bare your breasts." His voice hardened suddenly. "Please do it now."

She couldn't look at his face any more. He looked so cold, almost like he hated her, and she couldn't stand that. She dropped her eyes to the table. Her body felt like stone. Her hands were like dead weights. She couldn't raise them if she wanted to. But somehow she was. She was raising them. To the back of her neck. To the tiny catch there. Grasping it in her trembling fingers, and opening it.

No, she thought. You don't have to do this. She forced herself to look at Simon again. Her heart quailed. "I don't want to, Simon," she said. But now it was more of a plea than a refusal.

Simon said nothing. He just continued to look at her with those obsidian eyes, with that hard, cold, unreachable expression. Her eyes fell to the table again, and she felt tears on her cheeks as she took hold of the little zipper and started it down.

She could only get it down a little way, and she had to change her position, lowering her arms, leaning forward in her chair and bringing her hand up behind her to pull it down further. Awkwardly collaborating in her own humiliation. She slid the zipper down to her waist. Then, with her tear-filled eyes still on the table in front of her, she slid the dress from her shoulders and let it fall from her, along with the built-in bra. Her breasts were now bared to them.

She heard Bertrand murmur something to Simon, and her husband's reply. She couldn't understand the words, but the tone was clear. Bertrand was expressing his admiration, and his congratulations. And Simon was rather smugly acknowledging his good fortune. She still could not look at them.

She sat that way throughout the rest of the meal. She longed to cover herself again, but somehow she knew that would not be acceptable. The two men casually resumed eating--Annette had never stopped--although their eyes were constantly on her, especially Bertrand's. But Elaine could not eat. She could not move. No one seemed to notice. Only when the coffee had been served and they had moved into the spacious living room did Simon tell her to put her dress back. She had feared that he would make further demands on her for the pleasure of their host, but it didn't happen. The remainder of the evening passed quite normally, although Elaine took even less part in the conversation than before.

She and Simon didn't say a word to each other on the ride back to their hotel. Simon sat in stony silence. Elaine was angry at him, of course, but even angrier at herself, ashamed that she had given in to him and degraded herself before strangers, especially after telling him she wouldn't do that any more. It has to stop, she told herself. It has to. I won't spend my life doing things like that.

But if that meant spending her life without Simon? Or with him, without his love? She couldn't face the thought of that.

It wasn't until they were back in their hotel room that Simon spoke to her.

"You defied me, Elaine," was what he said. "You questioned my authority, and embarrassed me in front of my friends. That is not acceptable, Elaine. I will not tolerate that. Do you understand?"

She sat heavily on the bed. "But Simon, I--I did what you wanted." She gave an incredulous laugh, at him and at herself. "God knows why I did it, I told you I wouldn't do that any more, but I did it. And you say I embarrassed YOU? I can't believe any of this. How can you do those things to me, Simon? How?"

"You did do it," Simon said coldly. "But not quickly enough. Not without question. Not without defying me first. I won't have that. You must learn to be a real wife, Elaine. You will learn. Now you must be punished."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Get undressed," Simon said.

"Simon, what are you--"

"Get undressed now."

She hesitated, looking at his stony face. Then she stood up and took off her dress, and then her underthings. When she was naked Simon, with deliberate movements, opened his belt and began to pull it out of his pants.

Again she stared at him, her eyes going wide. "Simon, what do you--what are you doing, for god's sake?"

"Lie down on the bed, Elaine."

"Simon, you're not going to--"

"Lie down on the bed," Simon said. "On your stomach. Now."

She couldn't believe this. "Simon, have you gone crazy?" she got out. "You can't--If you think I'm going to let you--" It was too absurd. But Simon seemed completely serious. He was wrapping one end of the belt around his hand. "Simon, you're frightening me."

"You have to learn, Elaine. If you continue to defy me it will be a lot worse. Lie down on the bed."

She swallowed hard. "No, Simon," she said. "This is going too far. I'm not going to let you hit me with that thing. If you try to hurt me, I'll leave you."

"No you won't," Simon said. It was not a threat, or a warning; it was a simple statement of fact. "You know that and I know that," Simon said.

Was he right? Oh god, she thought, give me strength.

"Lie down on the bed, Elaine," Simon said.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

"If you don't do as I say," Simon said, "I will put you on the bed and tie you down. Is that what you want?"

"Simon, for god's sake--"

"All right." Dropping the belt, he picked up one of the stockings she had taken off when she had undressed. He then grabbed her arms and crossed her wrists, winding the stocking around them. She struggled, but he was too strong for her, and his anger seemed to make him stronger. When he picked her up and put her on the bed, she knew there was no escape.

"All right!" she said, almost sobbing. "All right, Simon, stop! You don't have to tie me. I'll--I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt me, please!"

"Good," Simon said. He had placed her on her stomach, and now he unwound the stocking from her wrists. "I am going to hurt you," he said then. "That is the point. So you will be sorry that you acted as you did, and will not wish to do it again. But the punishment will not be unbearable. It could be much worse. Much, much worse. Keep that in mind, Elaine."

He straightened up and picked up the belt again. "Stretch your arms over your head," he told her, "and hold on to the rails."

She did as he said, clutching at the vertical rods at the head of the bed. She was trembling. He wouldn't--he couldn't really whip her. Could he? Not really hard. It would only be--

"Six lashes, Elaine." Simon said. "For disobedience." And he raised the belt.

She had instinctively clenched her buttocks, expecting the blow to fall on them, but instead she felt a searing pain across the upper part of her back as she heard the crack of the belt. It brought a loud, shrill cry from her throat.

"Be quiet," Simon said sharply. "We don't want any disturbances here. Keep your voice down, or I'll have to gag you."

"Simon, please--" she gasped out, but he was already swinging the strap again. Another crack, and the blow fell slightly below the first, feeling like a line of fire across her back. Again a half-scream was wrenched from her throat. She tried to bury her face in the pillow to stifle it, but too late.

"Damn," Simon said. Dropping the belt again, he looked around as if for something to gag her with. He settled on her discarded panties, which lay on the floor. He picked them up and approached the bed. Elaine, crying now, curled herself into a ball, turning onto her side.

"Simon, please," she pleaded again. "No more, please. For god's sake." Her sobs made her body shake. "Please, I can't--"

He made no reply. Sitting on the bed, he crumpled up the flimsy panties and roughly forced them into her mouth. Then he tied one of her stockings around her face to hold them there. Her mouth was stretched wide. She still tried to plead with him, her wet eyes begging above the gag, but her words and her moans were stifled by the tightly packed material.

Simon stood and picked up the belt again. "Get back into position, Elaine," he said.

Still she tried to beg, to reason with him somehow, but it was no use. When he threatened to tie her after all, she slowly rolled onto her stomach, stretched out her arms and grasped the bedrails again, her muffled sobs almost choking her.

Four more times the strap came down, each blow landing a little further down her back, the last one slamming across her buttocks. Each time she screamed into the gag, her body jerking and writhing convulsively. And then it was over.

Again she curled herself into a ball, her shaking hands automatically unknotting the stocking around her head and pulling the panties from her mouth. Gasping and sobbing, she heard Simon pulling off his clothes. Trying to blink away her tears, she looked up at him, and her still wet eyes suddenly went wide.

As many times as she had seen him naked, and aroused, she had never seen his penis look as hard and stiff as it did now. She couldn't believe it--it seemed to her to be larger than ever before, and it was throbbing visibly.

"Elaine," he said hoarsely, and then he fell on her.

She had never known him to be like this. Oh, he had always been a good lover--more than good. He had always given her satisfaction, making love to her smoothly and expertly, playing her body like a virtuoso and bringing them both to the peak of ecstasy without fail. At times there was something almost contemptuous in the cool, knowing ease with which he did this.

But this was different. Now he took her with a savage passion that was totally unlike his usual self. His hot mouth was all over her, his hands seemed to burn with desire as they traveled up and down her body. He devoured her flesh, and he drove into her with an uncontrolled need that thrilled her to the core of her soul. Her abraded back was forgotten, her outraged pride was flung to the winds as he possessed her with a wild fury, pounding into her as if he could not go deep enough, clutching at her as though he could never get enough of her flesh, of her body, of her very being. She cried out in climax again and again as he took her as though the devil himself was driving him.

And afterwards he lay beside her, caressing her body and kissing her face as he murmured to her. "I love you, my darling," he said. "My sweet wife. My own baby. I do love you. Always remember that. I will always love you."

She had never been so happy.

4

By the next day, of course, her happiness was alloyed by more rational thoughts. Her back throbbed, and the welts there gave her sharp pains if she moved too suddenly. The memory of how she had bared her breasts for Bertrand still brought a flush to her cheeks, and flashes of anger at herself for having done so. And the memory of Simon's punishment of her, his lovemaking and his subsequent tenderness, brought such a jumble of emotions that she could hardly sort them out. His unusually intense passion seemed to have been aroused by his beating of her, by her pain and suffering. Could that be true? And if so, had his fervent declarations of his love for her have had the same cause? Was that the way to win and hold his love? To let him hurt her? It was unthinkable. It was monstrous. It couldn't be.

He had punished her because she had defied him, even though she had given in at the end. And she remembered that earlier, he had said that her not obeying him would kill his love for her, would make their marriage an empty shell. But if she didn't defy him any more--if she did the things he asked of her, even if it meant shaming herself, degrading herself--would he then still love her, would he still be tender with her, without having to punish her? But that would mean losing even more of her pride, killing something within herself and making herself into a whore. Would it be worth it, to keep his love? Her mind said no. But her heart told her that to lose his love would be unbearable. How could she live without it? She would do anything to keep that love alive, her heart said. Anything.
But could she?

These doubts and fears, however, were pushed into the background of her consciousness over the remainder of their honeymoon, as Simon once again became the loving and considerate man she had fallen in love with. Their days were filled with sightseeing, travel and stimulating cultural activities. It was true that Simon did not again make love to her with the special intensity, avidity and passion he had shown on the night of the whipping, but the sex was still good, as it had always been, and Elaine told herself she didn't need anything more. If things stayed on this even keel, she would be more than content.

They stayed that way until their return home.

Simon's parents had given them their town house in the city as a wedding present, along with its staff of servants, some of whom Simon had known since he was a boy. Elaine had not actually seen the house before, but she loved it at once, even though it was much larger and more elaborate than any place she had ever lived in before. It was like a palace, and it was hers. Hers and Simon's. It was like a dream come true.

The servants were all gathered in the large entrance hall to meet them on their arrival, just like in a movie, Elaine thought. There were perhaps a dozen altogether--maids, cooks, a butler, a chauffeur, she couldn't keep track of them all. Simon introduced her to each of them, beginning with the butler, who he called Bates, a thin, rather elderly white-haired man with a dignified bearing, and then going on to the rest, evidently in order of rank. Each of them gave a little bow or curtseyed respectfully as she greeted them. She almost had to giggle at the absurd formality of it all, but she managed not to. There was also a kind of rigor and dignity to it that appealed to her in spite of herself.

And then Simon said, "I'm sure you'll want to change your clothes, Elaine, after your long journey. Just take off what you're wearing and give it to Sarah here. She will have it cleaned for you. Lawrence will bring the luggage to our room, and then you can change."

For a moment she was confused. Surely he didn't mean--but of course not. "Fine," she said. "I'll bring the things down to you, Sarah."

"No," Simon said. "Just give them to her now, Elaine. It's easier that way."

Now she stared at him. The blood was pounding in her head. Oh god, he did. She couldn't believe it. He wanted her to take her clothes off in front of all the servants! How could he--

"Simon," she said.

"Yes, darling?" He was actually smiling at her.

She had to swallow. "I'll change upstairs, Simon," she said, as evenly as she could.

"Elaine--"

"I'll change upstairs," she repeated, and, trying not to cry, she moved to the staircase and started up. She didn't know which room was theirs, but when she got to the top she went into the first room she came to and closed the door.

Then the tears came.

A moment later the door opened and Simon came in. His face was a mask of rage. As she turned to him, about to say something, he slapped her as hard as he could across the face. She fell back with a cry, landing across the bed. Simon moved to stand over her, and she shrank away.

"You haven't learned, Elaine," Simon said, his voice trembling with fury. "How could you do that to me? To shame me in front of the servants! How could you?" His hand rose again, and she cringed, but then the hand dropped.

"No," he said, making a visible effort to control himself. "Not this way. I am not some drunken brute lashing out in anger, although god knows you have given me cause. I told you you would have to learn to be a proper wife, Elaine. I told you that if you did not the punishment would be worse than before. Take off your clothes, Elaine."

She was really frightened now. "Simon, please..."

"Take them off. Now."

She shook her head reflexively. "Simon, listen..."

He lunged at her and grabbed at her blouse, ripping it down the front. Almost before she could react he had torn her brassiere from her with one tug. She tried to get away from him, but it was useless. He was ripping at her skirt, shredding her panties. Her weak struggles had no effect whatever. In a minute her clothing lay around her in rags and she was naked. Without pause he grabbed her hands and, as he had on the previous occasion, wrapped one of her torn stockings around her wrists and tied them together.

She could barely speak. "Simon," she choked out. "Simon, don't..."

"You must learn, Elaine," he repeated. Pushing her down on her back, he pulled her arms over her head and used her other stocking to tie her fastened wrists to the rail at the head of the bed. She was sobbing now, but he paid no attention. Her fear increased when he tied her brassiere around her ankles, and fastened that in turn to the foot of the bed with a strip of her ruined skirt. She was lying not on her stomach this time, but on her back, stretched out and helpless. A cry of fright came from her throat when Simon unbuckled his belt and pulled it off.

"I told you it would be worse, Elaine," Simon said. "I warned you. You didn't listen." And with that he raised the belt and lashed it down with what seemed to be all his strength across the hills of her breasts.

The scream that came from her was like no sound she had ever heard before, from herself or anyone else. But then she had never imagined such pain either. She didn't think she could bear it without passing out, but she remained fully conscious. She could feel herself pulling reflexively at the bindings at her wrists and ankles, but they held tight.

"No!" she screamed out as she saw Simon heft the belt again. "No, Simon, please!" But he whipped her again, again across the breasts, again producing an ear-shattering shriek and the convulsive bucking of her helpless body. He hadn't gagged her this time, he obviously had no qualms about her screaming, though she was sure the servants must be able to hear her. That alone would have made her shrivel with shame if it hadn't been for the agony that was blocking out most of her conscious world.

The third blow slashed a line of fire across her stomach, and the next one across her thighs. Both were delivered with enough strength to draw a grunt from Simon as he brought the belt down, and both made her scream again, although even in her torment she was glad he was no longer whipping her breasts. But then he did, again, even harder than before, lashing them twice more, the second blow falling on the twisting, spasming body even before the gut-wrenching scream caused by the first had died away.

Simon stopped then. He stood above her, still holding the belt, panting a little from exertion. She was sobbing and gasping, her body throbbing with pain, still twisting a little in the aftermath of the seemingly unbearable torment. "Are you ready to do as I ask, Elaine?" he demanded.

She could barely think. But she knew she couldn't take any more punishment. She found herself nodding spastically, the moans and sobs still issuing from her mouth. Simon untied her hands and feet and helped her to sit up. She didn't think she could move, but she found it was easier than she thought, although her breasts were still on fire, and her thighs and stomach throbbed terribly. Simon waited patiently until her sobs had diminished and her gasping breath had returned nearly to normal. He handed her a handkerchief and told her to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

"All right, Elaine," he said then. "Now I would like you to do what I asked you to do before. I want you to take your clothing downstairs and give it to Sarah to take care of."

She stared at him with eyes still not completely dry. "But--but my clothes are all torn..." she panted. "They're just...just rags now..."

"I don't care," Simon said. "I want my orders carried out. Now, Elaine."

She realized she was trembling as she slowly, weakly gathered up the remnants of the clothes she had been wearing. When she had found them all, she stood holding the useless pieces of cloth in her hands, looking at Simon as if in a daze. Simon moved to the door of the bedroom and opened it. "Go ahead," he told her. "The servants are still there. I instructed them to wait for you."

Oh my god, she thought. They had all been standing there all this time, hearing her screams, knowing... Her legs felt weak and her trembling intensified. And now she was to do down there like this, naked for all of them to see... It was unthinkable. If only she could at least put something on... She looked at Simon with mute appeal. For a moment she wanted to ask him, to beg him...but it was no use. He just stood there, holding the door for her, waiting. Waiting for her to obey.

I can't, she thought. What would he do if she refused? Whip her some more? She couldn't take that. Or would he just withdraw from her, not love her any more, as he had once threatened to do? Somehow the thought of that was even more fearful to her. How could she feel that way? But she did.

She heard herself making little whimpering sounds, but she choked them off. On her shaking legs, she forced herself to move to the door. Past Simon, out into the hallway. To the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, the group of servants was still standing. They looked up at her as she began to descend slowly, carrying the little bundle of rags in front of her. It didn't hide very much. Their faces were a blur to her still damp eyes, but she felt their eyes on her, felt them devouring her naked body. Especially the men. She was sure they could see the marks that Simon's belt had left on her. With every step she wanted to turn and run back up, back to the room, but she made herself continue. Walking naked down the stairs as they watched.

She was still trembling as she reached the bottom and turned to them. She moved to the girl named Sarah and wordlessly handed her the little bundle of what had once been her clothing. The girl took it from her with a little curtsey. Now that her hands were free, her impulse was to cover herself with them as best she could, but she resisted. That would seem even more shameful somehow. As quickly as she could without seeming to run, she turned away and mounted the stairs, feeling their eyes again following her as she did so.

In the room she found Simon sitting on the bed, naked now, his penis ragingly erect. As she came in he lunged for her, attacking her so fiercely that he bore her to the floor and made love to her right there, in a way that he hadn't done since that night in Paris when he had first punished her. His uncontrolled animal passion thrilled her beyond imagining, and she responded in kind, even though his roughness exacerbated the pain that still throbbed in her body. It didn't matter; he wanted her, he needed her, and in his taking of her he was also giving himself over to her in a way that was all too rare, and that seemed the fulfillment of all her dreams. She climaxed again and again, shrieking out her joy and ecstasy to the world. It was only later that she wondered if the servants had still been listening.

Afterward he carried her to the bed and lay with her in such tenderness that it seemed impossible that this was the same man who had whipped her with such fury only an hour earlier. Her tears now were tears of bliss as he expressed his love for her, telling her that no woman had ever been to him what she was. "We will be together forever," he told her, as she clung to him in complete rapture. "Husband and wife, always. And you will now be my true obedient wife, won't you, Elaine?"

She tried to ignore the sudden chill that seemed to threaten the perfection of her happiness. She could not allow it to do that. Nothing was going to come between her and Simon now, nothing could be permitted to stand in the way of this perfect love.

"Yes, Simon," she whispered. "Yes, I will. I will."

Because she loved him.

Even if she hated herself.

5

Elaine sat at the foot of the long dining table, completely naked and trying to hold back her tears. It was reminiscent of the time she had sat at the Bertrands' table with her breasts exposed, but worse, far worse. For this time she was utterly nude, and there was not just one other couple at the table; there were six.

"I am going to give a dinner party, Elaine," Simon had said to her. It was two weeks after their arrival at their new house. Since then he had again been sweet and loving to her, had lavished her with gifts and surrounded her with luxury and comfort. His love and devotion meant much more to her than any material gift, but everything he did for her made her happy. The only cloud in this bright world was her memory of how the servants had witnessed her shame that first night, the fact that they had all seen her naked, had heard her screams. Not that they ever gave any sign, or were anything but polite and deferential to her; she was sure Simon had seen to that. But that awareness never left her, and caused her to avoid them as much as possible. When she spoke to any of them she had to make a conscious effort to look them in the eyes, and not to blush; and the effort was not always successful.

"The purpose of this gathering will be to introduce you to some of my friends," Simon went on. "I plan to invite a half-dozen of my closest acquaintances, along with their wives. And you will be the guest of honor, so to speak."

There was something in his tone that sent a chill through her. But she ignored it. "But surely, Simon, if it's your party, I will be the hostess, not a guest," she said lightly.

"Of course," Simon said. "But in a sense you will be both, my dear. For as I say, you will be the reason for the occasion. The center of the festivities, as it were. I wish my friends to become acquainted with you as my wife, Elaine. To get to know you intimately. Closely. In every way."

She suddenly found it hard to breathe. "Simon," she whispered, after a pause. "You don't mean--"

"I mean just what I say, my darling," Simon said. "And I'm sure you will be happy to show my friends what a perfect wife you are, and to make me proud of you. Won't you, Elaine?"

Her throat was tight. For a long moment she could say nothing. Was it possible? Could he really-- And if so--

Simon continued to look at her. At last she forced herself to speak. "I--I'll try, Simon," she whispered.

"Good," Simon said.

.

On the night of the party Simon again presented her with a brand-new evening gown. The dress was elegant and beautiful, but her delight in it was overshadowed when he instructed her to wear nothing beneath it. The gown and a pair of high-heeled shoes were to be her only garments, he decreed. Until then, she had been hoping against hope that perhaps this gathering wasn't to be what her fears imagined, that it would be a normal social evening, friendly and convivial; that Simon was now satisfied with her loyalty to him and would not subject her to any more tests, or whatever they were. But now that hope faded, and it was obliterated completely when, to her astonishment and near-horror, he brought out a pair of metal handcuffs and, pulling her arms behind her back, cuffed her wrists with them.

"Simon! What--why?" she cried, pulling reflexively against the hard steel. "You don't have to--"

"I realize they are not necessary, my dear," Simon said, smiling at her. "But they are aesthetically pleasing, and will add to the titillation of our guests. I'm afraid I am going to have to gag you also. Just to start with, you understand. Presentation is everything." With that he produced a roll of heavy tape and tore off a thick strip.

"Simon, for god's sake! This is--this is crazy! You can't--"

"Of course I can. Please close your mouth, Elaine."

"Simon...please..."

But in the end she closed her mouth. And let out a moan as he clamped the tape over it, pressing it tight. Then he stepped back to look at her.

"Yes," he said approvingly. "You look so beautiful that way, Elaine. I know our guests will be pleased. And I know you will keep them that way, by doing everything I ask of you this evening. Now please wait here. I want to bring you out after they have all arrived. I will come for you then."

Elaine sat down on the bed as he left the room. She felt as though she might faint. She felt the beginnings of tears in her eyes. With her hands fastened behind her she could not wipe them away, so she bent down and rubbed her face against a pillow to dry it. She must try not to cry, she thought. She must try to keep her composure and make Simon proud of her. Oh god! another voice inside her said. What am I doing? Is this the way a husband takes pride in his wife? By degrading her and...and exploiting her in front of friends and strangers? And what kind of friends must he have, who would be, as he put it, titillated by such a spectacle?

The voices warred within her head, but she could do nothing but sit there and wait. Even if her hands were free, she thought, she would be helpless to do anything but sit there and wait. Waiting for the husband she loved so hopelessly to turn her into a whore.

.

After a few minutes she heard the guests begin to arrive downstairs, heard Simon's voice in greeting, and other voices, more and more of them as the time passed. The voices grew fainter, and then finally the bedroom door opened and Simon appeared.

"All right, Elaine," he said, smiling at her. "Our guests have all arrived and are waiting for you in the dining room. Come along."

She rose, a little awkwardly, and he held the door for her politely as she went out. Elaine was trembling. They went down the stairs together, and proceeded to the dining room, where again he opened the door for her and motioned her inside.

Her entrance was greeted by a collective intake of breath from the six couples seated around the dining room table. Elaine's vision was blurred and her head was swimming, but she could see that they were of various ages and appearances. But they all stared at her with what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and fascination as she walked into the room, this lovely dark-haired young woman in the elegant formal gown, whose hands were fastened behind her and whose mouth was covered with tape.

"Friends, ladies and gentlemen," Simon said, with pride in his voice. "I'd like to to meet my wife."

There were polite murmurs and a few words of greeting from some of the guests. Even had she not been gagged, Elaine would not have been able to reply to them. After her first glance around the table, she could not even bring herself to look at them. She cast her eyes on the floor and kept them there. She was still trembling.

"As you can see," Simon said, "the lady is still somewhat shy. I have had to work on that a bit, in order to reconcile her to the duties of a proper wife. However, she is coming along quite nicely, as I am sure she will demonstrate this evening. Because the lady is here tonight to entertain you all, and I am sure she will do her utmost to give you satisfaction."

A small moan welled up from Elaine's throat and pushed its way through her gag, but she choked it back. There were tears in her eyes again. There was nothing she could do about that. Again she felt as if she might faint, but though she swayed slightly, she remained as she was.

Simon smiled. "If any of you have any objections to this program, of course, you are free to leave." He glanced around the table. Nobody moved. He smiled again. "I didn't think so," he said. With that he took out a small key and unlocked Elaine's handcuffs, removing them from her wrists. "Our party begins now," he said. "Take off your gown, Elaine."

Again a frightened moan came from her gagged mouth, this one louder. She turned to look at Simon, who regarded her coldly, his face a mask of sternness. There was no trace now of the warm, loving, wonderful man she knew he could be. This was the man who could hurt and degrade her with no trace of remorse. And yet it seemed the two men were inextricably intertwined, that indeed the one grew out of the other.

"I gave you an order, Elaine," Simon said flatly. "I thought you had agreed to be obedient from now on. You wouldn't want me to punish you in front of our guests, would you?"

Her eyes went wide over the gag, and she shook her head reflexively. Oh god, he wouldn't! she thought. But she was not at all sure about that.

"Then do as I say," Simon said. "I want my friends to see the splendors of that body, so that they can appreciate my generosity. Take off the gown."

Now the tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks as she brought her slow, unwilling hands to the neckline of the dress. Her eyes were again on the floor, her face was pale, and her bosom rose and fell rapidly with her agitated breath. Her quivering fingers fumbled with the catch at the front of the gown, and when finally she got it open she still kept the garment pressed against her shaking body. There was utter silence in the room. The guests were barely breathing.

"Put your hands down. Now," Simon said. And, with a sob, she did, and the silence was now filled with gasps and murmurs from the seated guests as the gown slid down to her feet, revealing the completely naked body beneath.

Elaine could do nothing but stand there in helpless desperation as they gazed at her body. "Yes, she is lovely, is she not?" she heard Simon say. "Turn around, my dear, and let them see all of you." Numbly, she turned around, the tears still flowing, and then, at Simon's direction, turned back to face them again.

"You can see now," Simon continued, "what a lucky man I am to be the possessor of such beauty. And how selfish it would be of me not to share it with my friends. As you can also observe, my wife does not completely share my sentiments in this matter. Her unhappiness is evident, and of course most unfortunate. On the other hand, I think you will agree that this obvious reluctance makes her wifely obedience, her submission to her duty, still more gratifying, and perhaps more stimulating as well."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and Elaine felt a sudden shiver go through her body.

"Ideally such obedience should be brought about by love alone," Simon said. "But in this case, as I say, I have had to supplement that on one or two occasions with a bit of physical persuasion. Were that necessary now, I am sure you would find it most interesting." Again there was a murmur among the guests, and Elaine once more turned to her husband with wide, fear-filled eyes. "However, I don't expect that will actually be called for this evening. Will it, Elaine?"

Elaine's head jerked from side to side, and a sound like a whimper came from her sealed mouth.

Simon smiled. "There's no real need for the gag, of course," he explained. "The servants will not heed her if she screams. They have become used to hearing a good many sounds from her in the past weeks. They quite enjoy it, I believe. And so the gag is merely for effect. Perhaps I should remove it now. Elaine is going to need her mouth soon, in any case. Her luscious mouth." And with that he reached for her face and slowly peeled the gag away. Elaine gave only one tiny cry, and that was all. An almost tangible wave of new excitement swept the table as the guests gazed now on the fullness of her beauty as she stood there panting through her trembling mouth, naked and vulnerable. She felt their arousal like a palpable thing. It was as though the lust for her debasement was electric in the air.

"Yes, her mouth is lovely," Simon said. "And she uses it so well that I have determined that this evening will be devoted to that alone."

Elaine caught her breath as Simon held up a hand to forestall the reactions of his guests. "Please be assured that I will guarantee you all complete satisfaction before this evening is over. And there will be other times, other evenings, when you will no doubt have the opportunity to explore my wife's talents in other directions as well. But for now I wish her to demonstrate this particular talent as fully as possible. And I have determined that she will do so by employing it on every man and woman here tonight."

Now a gasp went around the table as the guests continued to stare with naked hunger at the standing woman, whose breasts shook with sobbing which she tried in vain to stifle, and whose tears fell now in fresh profusion. "I see that this suggestion meets with your approval," Simon said smugly. "I would have been so hurt if it had not." A bit of lsughter came from the guests. "However," he continued, "I believe we should save this sweet delight for dessert, don't you think? First we shall dine."

A disappointed groan now swept the table, and Simon again held up his hand. "But wait," he said. "Perhaps I can atone for this delay by giving you a preview, as it were, of things to come. I have spoken of the servants, and it occurs to me that one way to instill a sense of proper humility in a recalcitrant wife is to have her give herself not only to one's friends and colleagues, but also to certain individuals somewhat below her station. Thus I think it will be most stimulating for all of us to watch her perform with my butler. Please ring the bell, Elaine, to call Bates in here."

Elaine blanched. She could not believe what she was hearing. A plea caught in her throat, and rose to her trembling lips. But Simon merely shook his head. "Don't argue, Elaine," he said in a dangerous tone. "It will do no good, for anyone. Now our guests are waiting. Go ring the bell."

She didn't think she would be able to move. But she did. With halting steps she made her way to the wall where the buzzers that were used to summon the servants were placed. With their eyes on her, she pressed the proper button, and waited. A flush seared her flesh and clung to her cheeks, her throat, her bosom. Some reflex made her raise her hands to cover herself, but she let them fall again, as though knowing the futility of such a gesture now.

Then Bates came in, with his old, thin body, white hair and dignified face and bearing. He gave a slight, respectful bow to the assembled company. When he saw Elaine standing there naked, his sharp eyes widened slightly for a moment, but his manner otherwise was impeccable. He had, of course, seen her naked before, on that first day, but the fact did not lesson her sense of shame. His eyes moved quickly from her to his employer. "You rang, sir?" Bates said.

"Yes, Bates," Simon said. "I require you for a most interesting and instructive purpose. I wish you to assist in a display demonstrating the compliance of my wife. She is going to use her mouth to service you, until she has brought you to completion, at which time she will, of course, drink you dry. You have no objection to this duty, I assume?"

"None at all, sir," the butler said.

Elaine was sure she must faint. This could not be happening. But it was. And the worst thing of all was that she was allowing herself to be subjected to this horror. Part of it, of course, was fear--fear of Simon's punishment, of the thought that he might actually whip her in front of these strangers. But that wasn't all. In some ways this degradation was worse than even that threat. If she truly challenged him, if she fought, if she struggled...

But she couldn't. She would lose him. Forever.

"Good," Simon was saying. "Move into the middle of the room, Bates, where we can all see you properly. That's it. And you too, of course, my dear." Her legs felt rubbery as she slowly obeyed. "Yes, right there," Simon said. "That's right. Now get down on your knees."

Standing there, trembling, crying, full of shame and horror, she turned her helpless eyes on him and whispered one word. "Please..."

"Our guests are waiting, Elaine," Simon said again, and his tone was cold and merciless. She felt a lump in her throat, threatening to choke her, but she swallowed it down. Slowly then, she sank to her knees on the floor before the old servant.

Then, obeying Simon's commands, she fumbled at Bates's trousers with her trembling hands, opening them at last and pulling his veined and mottled phallus free. At that point she hesitated again, until Simon said, "Elaine." And she whimpered once and bent her head and took the thing into her mouth.
Gasps and murmurs came from the guests, and she could hear the creaking of chairs as each of them leaned forward in his place, watching eagerly. And there before their avid gaze Elaine, with her skin ablaze with the flush of shame, and crying softly all the while, began using her mouth and lips and tongue on the staff of the old man, who stood without a sound, looking straight ahead of him with his dignity intact. The guests were now silent also, watching the rhythmic movement of her slowly bobbing head. She did the best she could, for she knew that Simon would somehow know if she didn't, and her skill finally began to tell on the butler, whose impassive manner began to show evidence of strain. At last his body stiffened and he gave a sudden hiss, and then shuddered several times. As his climax took him he thrust forward with his hips, thrusting as deeply as he could into her mouth. Her throat worked once, twice, three times as she absorbed his sperm, and then he pulled away from her, depleted. Elaine swallowed one more time, and then knelt there with her head bowed, gasping.

There was a small rustling sigh from around the table.

"Excellent," Simon said. "I presume you enjoyed that, Bates?"

"Oh yes indeed, sir," the butler replied, as he replaced his now limp phallus and zipped himself up.

"Good," Simon said. "So did we all, I believe. Just one more thing, Bates. I appreciate the fact that you are the soul of discretion, and it does you honor. But in this particular case I would like you to make an exception to that rule, and to let the rest of the servants know what has happened here tonight." Elaine caught her breath, and her head came up suddenly, although she still could not look at anyone but Simon. Words of protest rose to her mouth, but she choked them back, biting at her lip. Her head fell again. "Yes," Simon went on. "I think the awareness of that knowledge will be conducive to a proper humility on my wife's part. Seeing it in their eyes as she speaks to them about household affairs and so on. Knowing they are thinking about what she has done with you...and also about the fact that one day she may be doing it for each of them. Because eventually she will."

Elaine gave a soft, despairing moan, but she wasn't sure anyone heard it. She herself could barely hear it through the roaring in her ears. She was shaking harder than ever.

"All right, Bates," Simon said then. "You may serve dinner now."

.

And so it was that Elaine was now sitting at the foot of the table, flushed and naked and shaking with shame, with the tears she could not control still occasionally trickling from her eyes. At first she had not been able to eat at all, and in fact had used her hands in a foolishly absurd attempt to cover her bosom, until Simon had threatened to bring out the handcuffs again and to have her eat her dinner like an animal. Now she ate slowly, forcing the food down and looking only at her plate.

The meal proceeded. Simon poured out the wine and led the conversation, pressing more food on his guests, who hardly touched their meal, their attention all intent on the shame-wracked woman who sat before them, and on the treat they had been promised after dinner. They ate with as much decorum as they could, impatient to be through. The plates were cleared away at last, and Simon rose, smiling.

"I trust that you have all enjoyed your dinner," he said, with only a small trace of irony. "And now I'm sure you are eager to receive the special dessert I have promised you. Of course, Elaine has not been trained on women. But I believe she will find the knack quite easily. She is a quick study, I am happy to say. And now, my friends, at last we are ready. Elaine, my dear, you will get down and crawl underneath the table, and you will use your fine sweet mouth on all these good people, until each of them has been completely satisfied. You will start at your left and move clockwise around the table, pleasuring everyone in turn--except for me, of course. I will take my turn later. Do you understand, my dear?" She couldn't speak, but he took her silence for assent. "And Elaine," he went on, "if I should discern any slackening of effort, or any failure to fulfill your instructions, I will be most unhappy. But I am sure you will do your best to give pleasure. Won't you, darling?"

She still couldn't speak; she couldn't even look at him now; but she drew in a shaking breath and nodded slowly.

"Fine," Simon said. "You may now begin."

For a moment she simply couldn't move, and the air of suspense around the table was almost crushing. And then, with a partially stifled sob, she pushed her chair back and slid to the floor. On her hands and knees, she crawled beneath the tablecloth, which was long enough to hide her from sight. She wanted to die. But she didn't.

As instructed, she started with the man who had been sitting to her left. She crawled between his knees, unzipped his trousers with her badly trembling hands, and took out his cock, which was already stiff. Every move she made took a conscious effort of will; her mind had to force her reluctant body to act, and when she did so it was as if she were moving in a dream. It was fantastic, and yet at the same time it was horribly real.

She heard the man take in his breath sharply as she took him into her mouth. She could imagine the other guests watching him, enraptured by his expression, knowing what she was doing and anticipating their own pleasure. She tried to shut her mind down, and to concentrate on doing a good job, as Simon had told her to. She used all her skill on the man, and it wasn't long before he spilled his come into her mouth, gasping more loudly than before. She swallowed it down mechanically and moved on.

Simon was right; she had never done anything with a woman before. She would not have thought she could. But here she was. Fortunately this woman, like the others, was wearing a dress, which she obligingly pulled up around her waist as Elaine moved to her. She also lifted her behind slightly from the chair to allow Elaine to pull down her panties. Then she parted her knees and put her hands in Elaine's hair, guiding her. She made only a small whimpering sound as Elaine's mouth made contact with her crotch. Elaine closed her eyes and did her best. The woman took longer than the man had, but finally she gave a short series of spasms and moaned softly as she climaxed.

Elaine had to catch her breath, but she knew she must not take too long about it. Steeling herself once again, she moved on to the next man.

As she continued slowly around the table, she heard Simon doing his best to conduct the conversation in a normal manner, as though unaware that each of his guests in turn was squirming in his or her chair and showing signs of extreme ecstasy. In his gracious and charming manner he spoke about politics, the latest books, the weather, making a joke now and then and eventually getting the others to participate as well, until anyone listening would have supposed this to be a conventional social evening, except for the occasional moan, gasp or squeal which punctuated the proceedings.

Just how much time had passed when the twelfth and final guest had been attended to, Elaine did not know. Swallowing the last of the secretions she had engendered, she crawled from beneath the table, panting and exhausted. She felt too weak to stand, so she remained on hands and knees, waiting for whatever would happen now.

"Very good, my dear," she heard Simon say cheerfully. "You seem to have done a most satisfacory job, judging from appearances. Of course, if anyone has any complaints, or is in any way dissatisfied..." He looked around the table, but saw only happy, contented faces. A few of the guests voiced their approval. He nodded. "Good. I so much like to please. In fact, my friends, I intend to have these little parties every month or so, and I am sure my wife will provide us with a variety of fine entertainment in the future."

Elaine felt numb. She still wasn't sure she could stand, but she started to make the attempt. "No, stay as you are, Elaine," Simon said sharply. And so she stayed there, on hands and knees, her head bowed, as the guests drank the last of their wine. The conversation soon became desultory and then died out, and finally there was a general consensus that it was time to leave.

Elaine, on Simon's instructions, crawled by his side as he moved to the front door to say goodbye to his friends. And crouching there, she kissed the feet--or rather the shoes--of each guest in turn as Simon shook hands with the men and bussed the women. One kiss on each foot, and she knew without Simon telling her that the kisses should be more than perfunctory. She did her duty, naked and numb, no longer crying, but with the shame inside her a dark hideous stain that would never go away.

The guests all thanked Simon for his hospitality and said they were looking forward to the next time. And they left, most of them looking back to catch a final glimpse of their host standing proudly at the door with his lovely, naked bride still kneeling at his feet.

.

As soon as he had closed the door Simon turned to her, and without warning his hands were in her hair, pulling her head back roughly so that she looked up at him with a cry of pain. "You did well, Elaine," he said, rather huskily. "You pleased my guests, and thus pleased me as well." His hands kept their tight hold on her hair, and she had to gasp with the pain in her scalp. "But you must learn to suppress your reluctance, my dear. Your tears, your hesitations, your obvious distaste for what you were doing--yes, these things no doubt added to the excitement for some, but they are superfluous, and not necessarily the most desirable attributes of a dutiful and obedient wife. Do you understand me, Elaine?" He pulled harder at her hair, and she cried out, "Yes!"

"Good. Now open my pants, Elaine, and do for me what you did for them. Hurry." The large bulge in his trousers testified to the urgency of his desire. The grip of his hands did not slacken, but through the pain she managed to unzip him and free his cock. He pulled her face onto him by her hair, and she nearly choked as the large phallus filled her tired and gasping mouth. The speed and rhythm of her sucking was determined by him as he pulled her head back and forth, but she did her best to give him pleasure with her lips and tongue, and very quickly he coursed into her throat.

To her surprise he was hard again almost instantly. Releasing her hair, he now reached down and scooped her up in his arms, then carried her bodily up the stairs to their bedroom. Then he was on top of her on the bed, driving her wild with his ravening lust. Between climaxes it again flashed into her mind that having him love her this way, need her this way, was worth anything he might demand of her. And again that very thought nearly made her sick. But she had little time for reflection.

"So beautiful, Elaine," Simon was panting, driving into her furiously, his hands sliding all over her body, touching, grasping, stroking, as if he could never get enough of her. "My beautiful wife. How they loved looking at your naked body! How exciting it was to see you with Bates, kneeling before him, pleasing him with your mouth." He was moving harder. "And then going under the table...my naked wife... sucking them all...one by one...all my friends...making them come in your mouth...so obedient...so docile...my sweet...darling...wife..."

And Simon came again. And still he wasn't finished. Elaine clung to him in rapture as again and again throughout the night he ravished her with his passion. The shameful humiliations of the evening were, if not forgotten, at least partially obscured by her overwhelming joy. Whatever trials he put her through, there could be no doubt now that he loved her, loved her fiercely. And she belonged to him as she could never belong to anyone else. And when he said, holding her tenderly between bouts of lovemaking, "You are a wonderful woman, my darling. The perfect wife. But there will be no tears any more, Elaine. No doubts, no hesitations. Only obedience. Isn't that so?" what else could she say but, "Yes, Simon."

What else could she say?

6

Bates, she knew, would have done as his employer had requested, and now it was even more difficult for her to face the servants. They were still outwardly respectful and polite with her, but as Simon had said, she could see the knowledge in their eyes. Or thought she could. The knowledge of what she had done with Bates. And perhaps of what else had transpired that evening. And the knowledge of Simon's vow, that each of them would also, at some point, be the recipient of her favors. She imagined she saw that awareness, that anticipation, in every look, every tone of voice, every movement they made in her presence. Her embarrassment was so great that she would have given anything not to have to deal with them at all. But of course she did.

A part of her could not believe, even after all that had passed, that Simon would actually demand that of her. But another part of her had no such illusions. It knew quite well that he could do so, and that he would, when it suited him. She tried not to think about it. But that was impossible. The hopeful part of her tried desperately to believe that the worst was over, that Simon, having tested her and trained her to be what he wanted, and having demonstrated his dominance over her, would now be content to keep her to himself, to bask in her love as she basked in his, needing nothing more. But the realistic part knew, without doubt, that this was hardly the case; that it was obvious that Simon loved her most intensely when she allowed him to shame her, degrade her, even hurt her; that he would go on doing that, with no prospect of an end; and further, that the shame and the degradation, and perhaps the pain too, were likely to increase and deepen as time went on, as his love demanded further proof of her obedience. And finally, that if she wanted to maintain the intensity of his love, which god knew she did, she would have to continue to submit to his demands.

But she had no way of knowing when those demands would come. Their life went on as before, with Simon giving her no cause for discontent. He ran the family business, but even though he was busy and sometimes distracted, he never made her feel neglected or lonely. Sometimes she almost forgot her apprehensions. But never completely. And the waiting, the wondering, the not knowing, was torture for her. Time and again she was on the verge of raising the subject with Simon, but she was afraid that doing so might precipitate the very demands she feared, or at least arouse his anger. So she kept silent.

Then one night, over dinner, Simon said, "I have to go to New York tomorrow, Elaine, for a business conference. I will be there overnight, but I should be back by dinnertime on Thursday."

"Can't I go with you, Simon?" she asked.

"I wish you could, darling, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be much fun for you, as I will be busy most of the time. But I don't want you to be lonely while I'm gone. There is no need for you to spend the night by yourself."

Her throat suddenly tightened. "What--what do you mean, Simon?" she got out. "I'm sure I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me."

He smiled. "Nonetheless, I don't like to think of you all alone for a whole night, darling. So I want you to spend the night with Jason."

Although there was no food in her mouth at the moment, she had to swallow before she could speak again. "Ja-Jason?" she whispered. "The...the chauffeur?"

"Yes." Simon said. "The chauffeur."

Jason, the chauffeur, was a youngish man, lean and sallow, with a rather feral look that Elaine had always found offputting, and even a little frightening. Although he had never overstepped his bounds, there was something in his manner that seemed almost offensive to her. With him, even more than with the others, she shrank from the awareness that he knew what he did about her. And that he too was waiting for the day...

"Simon," Elaine began in a choking voice. She tried to stop herself, to say nothing, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. "Simon, please. Please don't. I...I can't...oh please..."

She couldn't bear to look at the expression on his face. She dropped her eyes and sat very still, not saying anything more. She was trembling.

Simon's voice was flat and hard. "You will have anal sex with him," he said.

She caught her breath. Her fists clenched involuntarily, but she knew better than to say anything more.

"You will also service him orally if that is what he wishes, but the anal sex must come first. And that is to be all. You will not allow him to use your vagina. Do you understand, Elaine?"

She swallowed again. "What--what if he--insists..."

"He will not. You are the mistress of the house, Elaine. He is your servant. He will do what you tell him, or allow him, to do, and that is all."

Her head was swimming. "Does...does he know?"
"About tomorrow night, specifically? No. You will invite him to your room and give him the good news. I am sure he will be pleased."

"And is he to...to spend the night...the whole night?"
"As long as the activity is limited to the things I mentioned, he may stay as long as he likes, provided he is available for his regular duties the next day. And there is one other thing, Elaine."

She waited, numb.

"I want this activity to be filmed."

She stared. "Filmed?"

"Yes. So that I can see it when I come back. I will set up the camcorder for you, so that all you will have to do is turn it on. After that you can ignore it and concentrate on pleasing Jason. For I do want him to be pleased, Elaine. You do understand that?"

Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her when she said, "Yes, Simon." .
He had set the camcorder on a tripod in a corner of the room, pointing at the bed, at the most advantageous angle, she supposed, to take in the action. He had showed her how to turn it on, and told her it would film for about two hours and then stop automatically.

She sat on her bed and looked at the camera, which was not yet running. She was to turn it on when Jason came in. And it was time now to call him. No later than eleven, Simon had said. It was almost that now. She was wearing only a robe, in order to minimize the ordeal of undressing before him. Perhaps, she thought, she could even keep it on. But what was the use? He had already seen her naked, they all had, that first day...

Elaine closed her eyes. Why was she doing this? she asked herself. Because she had no choice. But of course she did. She could refuse. What would Simon do? He might whip her again if he was angry enough, but if she continued to resist his demands he would probably just withdraw. As he had told her that night during their honeymoon, she would kill his love for her. Again she wondered what kind of a love it was, that was based on her submission and degradation. Why did she need that love? Why didn't she just leave? She could leave right now, pack up and move out, go away, whatever. She would be her own person again. She would be free.

And she might never see Simon again.

She would lose him forever.

That thought was unbearable.

She was trembling alightly as she got up and moved to the intercom that connected to the servants' quarters. Slowly she picked it up. Bates answered. "Yes, ma'am?"

She tried to keep the quaver out of her voice, not completely succeeding. "Bates, will you--will you ask Jason to come up to the bedroom, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Was there a smirk in his voice? No, probably just her imagination. But of course he would know. Oh god.

In less than a minute there was a knock on the door. "Come in," she said. She stood in the middle of the room, willing herself to stop shaking, as Jason came in. He was in his uniform pants and shirt, but without his jacket and cap.

"You called for me, ma'am?" he said. His tone was neutral, as was his expression; but there was something behind it, a glint in his eyes, the hint of a suppressed smile. Oh, he knew, all right. Why else would she have called him here now? Anticipation glowed in him, behind the thin screen of respect.

She took a deep breath, fighting for dignity in the miasma of her despair. "Yes," she said, as steadily as she could. "My--my husband has directed me to--to have sex with you. Anal sex," she added, feeling stupid and foolish now in addition to her shame.

Jason's smile became more open, and the gleam in his eyes was stronger as they now boldly slid down over her body and back again. She wanted to sink through the floor. "I would enjoy that, ma'am," he said. She took a deep breath, and then she remembered the camera. She should have turned it on when he came in. She went to it now. "I have to--my husband wants to film this," she said. Jason looked surprised, but then he just shrugged. Elaine turned the camcorder on.

Now there was nothing to do but go through with it. As matter-of-factly as she could, though she had to force herself to do it, she took off her robe. Jason gazed avidly at her naked body, his tongue coming out to moisten his lips.

She moved to the bed and crawled onto it, positioning herself on her knees and elbows, her head on a pillow, her rear end thrusting into the air. "Get it over with," she wanted to say, but she didn't. Simon wouldn't like that. Simon wanted her to please him, not to be antagonistic. So she said nothing, just waited that way as Jason quickly got out of his clothes. She didn't look at him.

She tried to control her breathing as he approached the bed and got onto it. She indicated the bedside table, where she had laid out a tube of lubricating jelly. "Use that," she said, her voice sounding strange because of the tightness in her throat. Jason obeyed her. She went stiff as she felt his hands on her, applying the stuff to her anus, his finger probing obscenely. She bit at her lip and tried to will herself to relax, but it was not easy.

Then she felt the hardness of him against her buttocks. She drew in a long, quivering breath and closed her eyes. His hands spread her cheeks apart, and then his cock was probing at her tight hole, moving in slowly. Elaine gritted her teeth against the pressure, determined not to cry out, but she couldn't keep back the little whimper in her throat as he pressed forward against her sphincter. Jason may have thought it was a sound of pleasure. He gave a little grunt, and his hands reached around to grasp her breasts.

"No!" she gasped involuntarily. But as his hands dropped away she remembered the camera, remembered Simon's demand that she please him. Her vagina was off limits, but not her mouth, not her anus and, she supposed, not her breasts either. "I--I'm sorry," she panted. "It's--it's all right. I'm sorry."

Jason's hands returned then, cupping her dangling breasts and clasping them tightly, holding on to them as he pushed further inside her tight rear passage. The pain was severe now, and she couldn't hold back her cries; but again, she supposed, they could have been taken as sounds of passion rather than of pain. Although Simon would probably know the difference. Was there sound on that thing? Probably. But Simon wouldn't care if she was hurting, as long as she gave Jason a good time. With a moan of despair, she perversely pushed back at Jason for the benefit of the softly whirring camera, crying out again with the sharply intensified pain, but showing her husband that she was doing what he wanted, following his orders, pleasing the man he had foisted on her for the night. Jason was grunting as he thrust deeper inside her, and he gave a growl of satisfaction when he managed to bury himself to the hilt in her clutching anal canal. Elaine wanted to scream, wanted to sob, but she did neither. Instead, as Jason began to fuck her with short, jabbing thrusts, she did her best to move with him, pushing back, rocking back and forth to his rhythm. Her breathing was loud and harsh, and was broken, despite all she could do, by an occasional sob, but she moved, trying to make it good for him, trying to do what Simon wanted her to do. Jason's thrusts got faster and harder, his hands squeezing her breasts cruelly, adding to the agony that his relentless cock was inflicting on her, until finally he stiffened and climaxed with a triumphant shout, ejaculating again and again inside her ass.

She collapsed then, panting hoarsely and moaning, still trying to stifle her sobs, and he fell on top of her heavily. After a minute he rolled off and lay there as his own breathing gradually slowed. Her body still throbbed with pain. She wondered if he would go now. Simon had said he could stay if he wanted, but surely she was under no obligation to keep him there. Maybe he would be satisfied, maybe he would think that was all he was going to get, maybe...

Then she felt his hand on her thigh. Her instinct of course was to pull away, but she caught herself. Her eyes went to the camera with its glowing red light. She lay still.

"That was good, ma'am," Jason said. Was there an undertone of mockery, of smugness, even of sneering, beneath the courteous address? She was sure there was. "That was great," he added.

She said nothing. What was she supposed to say?

His hand moved slightly on her thigh. "You have a terrific body, ma'am, if I may say so," he asserted.

"Thank you," she forced herself to say. She couldn't stand this man. His looks, his manner disgusted her. But obviously he wasn't going to leave. Despair numbed her mind again. She could do nothing but wait.

He raised himself on an elbow, looking down at her. "I'd like to do that again, ma'am. Only the regular way this time. What do you say?"

"No," she said quickly. "I can't. My husband specifically forbade that." Thank god, she thought. But...

He looked disappointed. "Oh," he said. "So then...that's it, is it?"

Her heart sank. "What--what do you mean?"

"I mean he--your husband--he said I could only have you that one way? In the ass, and that's all?"

She had never wanted to lie so much in her life. But the camera was watching. Oh Simon, god...

She looked away from him. Again she had to force the words out. "You--you can..." She swallowed. "I can...use my mouth on you," she choked. "If you...if that's what..."

She didn't have to look at him to know that he was grinning. "Oh yeah," he breathed. "Oh god, yeah." He lay flat again. "Okay," he said. "I'm ready."

She noticed he had stopped calling her "ma'am." And why not, she thought. Why would you use such a term of respect to a woman who is about to suck your cock right after you have taken her in the ass? He seemed to have completely forgotten the camera, or at least not to care about it.

Elaine swallowed again. "Please--please wash it first," she said breathlessly.

For a terrible moment he didn't move, and she thought he was going to refuse. But then he rose and went out. She heard him going into the bathroom down the hall. She heard the water running. She didn't look at the camera.

In a minute he was back, lying beside her as before. "Okay," he said. "Clean as a whistle. Now go ahead."

Summoning all her strength, she willed her body to move down on the bed and crouch over him. Her lips were dry, and she moistened them with her tongue. She had to do it. She had to do it well. She had to please him, and Simon. There were tears in her eyes. She lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

He gave a little gasp and his hips arched. "Oh yeah!" he panted. "That's nice, oh christ that's nice!"

His penis, which had been only slightly erect after its washing, stiffened swiftly in her mouth. She took in as much of it as she could, and then proceeded to do her best to pleasure him, sucking him slowly at first, licking the underside of his phallus with her tongue as her mouth moved up and down, gradually accellerating her pace. She felt sick, and she was perpetually aware of the camera staring at her, its red light glowing mercilessly. Jason groaned and twisted and urged her on, and before too long he stiffened and shot into her mouth with a cry of triumph.

Elaine forced herself to swallow his sperm. She knew that's what Simon would want her to do.

Jason stayed with her most of the night. He could not get enough of her mouth. Again and again he requested that she suck him, and she had neither the strength nor the courage to refuse. Twice more, after she had sucked him to hardness, he took her anally; other times he came in her mouth. In between he played with her body, avoiding only her vagina. Elaine felt no arousal whatsoever, but she let him do what he wanted. Pleasing him for Simon, long after the light on the camera had gone off.

As the night went on all veneer of politeness wore away, and he began calling her names like tramp, slut, bitch. "Oh yeah, do that again, bitch," he would say. Or, "Christ, I love fucking you this way, you slut." The words stung, but nothing, she felt, could make her shame and humiliation any worse, any deeper than it already was.

Near morning he finally left. Elaine felt exhausted, and very dirty. She stumbled to the bathroom and started the water in the tub, then brushed her teeth for a long time while it was running. Her efforts did little to eliminate the rotten taste in her mouth, nor did the hot water erase the feeling of contamination on her skin. She finally fell asleep in the bathtub, crying.

.

When Simon came home, he insisted on watching the tape while having sex with her. Elaine could not look at it, but she couldn't help hearing the sound. It filled her with digust, even as she helplessly responded to Simon's lovemaking. He was fiery and passionate, but Elaine had the feeling that he was making love to the woman on the screen rather than to her. But that woman WAS her, she told herself. It was still her that he loved. In spite of the distractions, in spite of all her qualms, she came again and again in his arms.

Afterward he ran the tape again, and this time, at his request, she watched it with him.

7

Every day for the next several weeks Elaine moved in a state of fearful suspense, wondering when Simon would administer his next edict, which servant would be the next one to be given access to her body. She had no doubt that Jason had recounted every detail of their night together to the others, and she could only steel herself in their presence and try not to let her mortification become too obvious. As the weeks went on with no further demands from Simon, her apprehension increased, and each time he spoke to her she trembled inside, expecting the worst. But it did not happen. She almost began to wish that it would, since it was bound to happen sooner or later, and at least it would put an end to this terrible anticipation.

Until the next time.

It was a gloomy Saturday in October when Simon asked her to come out for a ride with him, saying he had something to show her. Jason drove them to a part of town that was somewhat less affluent than that in which they lived, but still respectable, and stopped in front of a large, if nondescript, apartment building. Here they got out and Simon, who seemed to be acquainted with the doorman, ushered her inside and up in the elevator to the twelfth floor. There appeared to be only two apartments on that floor, and he led her to the door of one of them, which he opened with a key. They went in.

The first thing she saw were the manacles hanging from the ceiling in the entrance hall. Then she saw the other manacles attached to chains on the floor. She turned to Simon, startled. "What--" she got out, but he just smiled at her and led her into the apartment.

It was really not very large, just three rooms aside from the hall, the bathroom and a small kitchen. It was completely and comfortably furnished and carpeted. The only unusual thing about it was that to nearly every piece of furniture was attached some kind of restraining device--cuffs, manacles, chains, ropes, straps--they seemed to be everywhere. The chairs had buckled straps attached to their seats and backs, and metal or leather cuffs to their arms. The tables--both small and large--had manacles at each corner. Even the bookcases and cabinets had hooks fixed into them at various heights, from which were suspended ropes or chains holding handcuffs or similar articles. The walls, too, at various points sported hooks to which these devices could be attached. Elaine's eyes got wide and the breath seemed to leave her body as she looked around. She actually felt faint.

"Simon, what--" She was swaying; she had to sit down, and she did, on the nearest chair, although she only perched on the edge of it, her body shrinking into itself, away from the cuffs and straps. "My god, Simon, what is this?" she got out. "Why did you--"

Simon was smiling down at her. "Intriguing, isn't it?" he said. "You see, Elaine, I decided I wanted a smaller place, a more private place, in which I could entertain clients and business associates. I should say, in which you and I could entertain them." Elaine closed her eyes, but said nothing. She opened them again as Simon went on. "Business these days is so cutthroat, you know, that one needs every advantage one can get in order to stay ahead of the competition. Well, one of my advantages is that I have a beautiful and very sexy wife who loves her husband enough to help him out in any way he desires. The fact that I can bring, let's say, a prospective client to this place and offer him the gift of an hour, or a night, or whatever, with such a desirable and compliant woman will certainly be an asset, wouldn't you say?"

Elaine nodded slowly. She felt a great numbness, inside and out. Whatever feelings of fear, shame or anger his words had roused were, for the moment, smothered in a dense fog of lassitude and near-despair. She couldn't speak for a long moment, and when she did her voice was almost zombie-like. "I see," she said, and paused. Then: "But why--all this?" She gestured vaguely around at the furnishings. "Why all these...things? Since I am to be your compliant wife, who will do your bidding on command, who will willingly give herself to anyone you ask her to, who will be your obedient little whore..." She had to stop to get her breath, she didn't know why she was out of breath, but she was, and now suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "Then why all these--these chains and cuffs and...Why, Simon? Why?"

Simon shrugged. "It adds to the general ambiance, darling. The atmosphere, you know. Even though they may not be necessary in your case, some men enjoy the illusion of a captive woman, a helpless female at their mercy, as it were." Elaine recalled the cuffs and the gag that she had worn on the night he had introduced her to his friends. "It's all part of the game," Simon finished.

"The game," she repeated softly. "Is that what it is to you, Simon? A game?"

Instead of answering, Simon bent down and kissed her. There was both passion and tenderness in the kiss,and in spite of everything she couldn't help responding. It dissipated the numbness inside her, and for a moment nearly pushed away her doubts and fears, or at least clouded them over. On some level she understood now that she didn't really know this man whom she loved, and even that she probably should not love him, but there was nothing she could do about that. Nothing. She was his.

"Come," Simon said then. "I want to show you the bedroom, Elaine. I have a surprise for you." She rose and let him lead her to the bedroom. She was expecting him to make love to her there, to christen the new apartment. But in the bedroom doorway she stopped short. Her eyes went wide and an involuntary gasp came from her tightening throat.

After seeing the rest of the apartment, it came as no surprise to her that the bed was furnished with manacles on what looked like adjustable chains attached to each corner post. The surprise was that spread out on the bed, wrists and ankles firmly secured by those manacles, was a naked girl. Her stretched-out nudity was so blatant, and so spectacular, that for a long minute Elaine did not realize that she knew her. But then the awareness came. It was Sarah, Simon's young housemaid. Their housemaid. The girl she had handed her torn clothing to on that first day when Simon had brought her home.

For a second Elaine thought she might faint. She clutched convulsively at Simon's hand, turning to him with her mouth working, but unable at first to form words. Simon smiled at her.

"Don't worry, darling. It's all right. Sarah is not hurt, nor is she in any danger. In fact, she quite likes being in that position, don't you, Sarah?"

Sarah did not say anything, but she smiled up at him. She was a girl of about twenty, Elaine guessed, with short brown hair and a full, rounded figure. She did not in fact appear to be suffering, in spite of the strained tautness of her spread-eagled body. She was not gagged, and Elaine realized that she had not called out or made a sound at any time since they had entered the apartment. Obviously she was content to wait patiently for whatever Simon had in mind for her.

"I've chosen Sarah to be next in line in your ongoing gratification of the servants, Elaine," Simon said pleasantly. "As you can see, she is in a perfect position for that to happen. And as you did such a fine job on the female guests at our dinner party a while ago, I'm sure you will have no trouble at all in pleasing her. I'll just put a few pillows underneath her behind to make it easier for you." And he did, raising Sarah's gaping crotch and in the process increasing the strain on her helpless body. Sarah took in a sharp breath, but she made no complaint. The nipples on her upthrust breasts were stiff and hard.

Elaine's numbness was back. Again her legs felt weak, and she had to let herself down till she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "You don't even have to undress, Elaine," she heard Simon say. "Unless you wish to, of course."

She did not wish to. She had no wishes any more, except the wish for Simon to love her. Degrading herself at his command appeared to be the way to bring that about. In spite of the insinctive recoil that even her numbness could not smother, she barely thought of resisting him, or even pleading with him, which she knew would be useless. There were no tears now. She simply waited for a moment to gather her strength before slowly standing up and then moving to reposition herself on the bed, crouching between Sarah's outstretched thighs. Then she lowered her head to the girl's crotch and proceeded to do what she had to do.

She was aware of Simon moving to the head of the bed, where, she presumed, he could get the best view of the action. She performed her task steadily, if a bit mechanically, and soon Sarah was moaning softly. In spite of Simon's stated confidence, she did not feel that sure of what she was doing; she simply did what she thought would feel good to her if the position was reversed, but that seemed to be sufficient. Sarah's moans got louder, and her already taut thighs seemed to quiver with tension. Elaine kept on.

Then she heard a faint sound, as of a zipper, and a moment later the quality of the girl's moans changed, becoming briefer and somewhat muffled. Elaine raised her head to see Simon bending over the bed, his cock out, plunging it in and out of Sarah's panting mouth as the girl raised her head as much as she could to receive him.

Something broke in Elaine at that moment. For a brief second she thought she might lose consciousness, but she didn't. Nor did she cry out or make any sound of pain or protest. She simply watched for one frozen minute, and then went back to pleasuring Sarah with her mouth. There were still no tears. Her tears seemed to have dried up, possibly forever.

A minute later Sarah came with a loud if stifled groan of pleasure, and at nearly the same time she heard the familiar sounds of Simon's climax as he emptied himself into the girl's mouth.

When she raised her head again Simon was smiling at her and tucking himself back into his pants. "That was very nice, Elaine," he said, zipping up. "Sarah obviously enjoyed herself greatly, didn't you, Sarah?"

The girl made a little humming sound of acquiescence. Elaine couldn't look at her face.

"I think we can go home now," Simon said. He took out a little key and began to release Sarah from her cuffs. "Jason will be waiting to take us back."

"Will he?" Elaine said. There was an unaccustomed edge to her voice. She sat up and began to wipe her face on one of the bedsheets. "And would you like me to suck him off on the way home, Simon?"

Simon looked at her sharply, surprised by the acerbity in her tone. "No, darling, that won't be necessary," he replied. "Jason has already had his turn with you. At least for a while." He continued to take her in with his gaze. "But thank you for offering," he added.

Elaine shrugged. "I'm your whore, after all."

"You're my wife," Simon said flatly. Then he went on, with something in his voice that matched hers. "However, if I were to accept your kind offer, Elaine, you would carry it through, I am sure. Would you not?"

She was looking directly at him, and it took her a long moment to answer.

"Yes, darling," she said finally. "Of course."

.

On the way home Sarah rode up front with Jason, separated by the partition from Elaine and Simon in the back seat. Elaine had her eyes closed, her head resting on the back of the seat. She felt that she was in a kind of limbo. Her thoughts were jumbled, her mind disfunctional. But the image of Simon's penis in Sarah's eager mouth seemed to shimmer in her consciousness.

"Was she better than me, Simon?" she said at last.

"What do you mean, darling?" Simon murmured.

"You know what I mean. Sarah. Her mouth. Did she suck you better than I do?"

"Of course not," Simon replied. "Is that what's bothering you? That meant nothing, Elaine. Nothing. A simple momentary pleasure. It has nothing to do with you and me."

"You fucking bastard," Elaine said. As soon as the words were out, she couldn't believe she had said them. She was shocked at herself, and appalled. Where had that come from? Simon was staring at her, obviously as astonished as she was at what had come out of her mouth.

"What did you say?" he demanded. "Have you gone crazy, Elaine?"

"Probably," she replied. Something inside her was driving her now, something she couldn't stop, although part of her desperately wanted to. But now that it had been released it was too strong for her. "Christ, Simon, how could you? What is wrong with you? All these things I've been doing for you--all these awful, shaming, degrading things--giving myself to anybody you told me to--oh god, all of it was for you, Simon, because I love you so much and I wanted you to love me. I just want you to love me. And you can just--with that girl, right in front of me, Christ, what do I mean to you, Simon? Am I no more than a whore to you? I let myself be a whore because you said that's what you wanted in a wife, that if I did what you wanted I would be a good wife, you would love me. But you treat me like I'm nothing to you. I can't be nothing to you, Simon, I'd rather be without you. I'd rather be dead." She still had no tears, but she was shaking uncontrollably, and her voice was high and growing shrill.

"You are hysterical, Elaine," Simon said flatly. "What I did with Sarah has no bearing on our marriage, or on my love for you. When you calm down you will realize that. Now--"

"No," she said in a lower tone. She was still shaking but her voice was under relative control. "It's no good. I have to leave you, Simon. I shouldn't have married you. You've destroyed me. You humiliate me, you shame me, you take my dignity and my self-respect, and you give me--what? You don't love me, Simon, you love my shame and my obedience and--oh god. I don't know how I can live without you, Simon, but I have to leave you. I have to."

And still part of her was crying out No! No! Don't do this! Stop! But she said nothing more. She hugged herself, trying to stop her shivering, with little effect.

Simon just stared at her for what seemed like a long time. Then abruptly he picked up the intercom that communicated with the limo driver and switched it on. "Jason, pull over to the curb, right now."

The car pulled over and stopped. Simon reached across her and opened the door on her side. "Go ahead, Elaine," he said. "Leave."

She couldn't move.

"Go on," Simon said. "There's nothing stopping you. You're free. If you want to go, go. I won't come after you, I won't do anything to you. You will never see me or hear from me again. Go."

There was a long pause.

"I can't," she said finally.

"Of course you can't." He picked up the intercom again. "Jason, send Sarah back here."

She could only stare at him, still hugging herself. Her door was still open, she could still leave, she knew she should leave, she believed everything she had said to him, he would never love her as she wanted him to. And now he evidently meant to shame her further. And later he would probably punish her for her little rebellion. Her stupid, worthless, futile, laughable little rebellion. For god's sake, get out now! her brain screamed. But she couldn't move.

Then Sarah appeared at the open car door. At Simon's direction, she climbed in and moved past Elaine to sit between them. "Close the door, Elaine," Simon said.

And, god help her, she did.

Simon wasted no time. He positioned Sarah on her knees on the broad seat, facing Elaine with her back to him. Kneeling behind her, he swiftly pulled up her skirt and ripped off the skimpy panties she was wearing. Fortunately the tinted windows of the limousine prevented anyone outside from seeing what was going on in the car. Simon pulled down his zipper and brought out his cock, and with little further preparation he proceeded to penetrate the girl from the rear. Sarah's gasp was one of both pain and pleasure.

Elaine watched numbly as her husband took his pleasure slowly and deliberately. his eyes never leaving her face. This was all for her benefit, of course. To show her that for all her silly talk, for all her wild defiance, he could do anything he wanted and she could do nothing. And Simon made this quite plain. "You want to leave, Elaine?" he said harshly as he pumped himself in and out of the panting girl. "Are you going now? Look what I'm doing, Elaine." He moved harder. "Go ahead, wife. Run away. Go."

Why didn't she? Why couldn't she? She wanted to die, but she couldn't even do that, although something inside of her was dead. She felt as though her body weighed five hundred pounds. She couldn't make her hand reach for the door handle. She wasn't even shivering any more. She was stone.

"Kiss her," she heard Simon say then. Startled, she met his eyes, which were boring into hers. "Kiss her, Elaine. On the mouth. Just to show there's no hard feelings. Do it, Elaine."

It seemed an eternity before her mind could absorb this new indignity, but it was actually only a few seconds. Then she found, to her surprise, that she was able to move after all, and she was bending down to press her lips against those of the panting, moaning girl. She felt Sarah's tongue move into her mouth, and she accepted it passively, holding the kiss as well as she could as the girl's head rocked with Simon's rhythmic thrusts from behind. Those thrusts now speeded up, and a moment later, on the verge of climaxing, Simon withdrew. Pushing the girl out of the way he presented Elaine with his throbbing, twitching penis, glistening with Sarah's juices.

"Now me, Elaine," he said, somewhat hoarsely. "Take this for me. In your mouth." His hand went to her hair, as if to pull her head to him, but then it dropped. Elaine, through her raging numbness, understood the gesture. He didn't have to force her, not physically, to show his control of her. His command should be enough. "Take it," he repeated.

Again she bent, and took him in her mouth. She could taste Sarah's essence on him, but that taste was swiftly replaced by the overwhelming rush of his semen as it poured into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, but there was too much for her, and it overflowed past her lips and trickled down on both sides of her chin.

When he was done she raised her head and saw him looking at her with a mixture of anger, triumph and contempt. There was no love there at all. Would there ever be again? Did she want there to be? But of course she did. Why else would she still be here? Why?

"And now, Elaine," Simon said, in a voice as cold as any she had ever heard, "I think I will accept the kind offer you made earlier, concerning Jason. Get into the front seat, please, and carry it out."

Jason was already starting the car as she slid in beside him. She knelt sideways on the seat and reached for his zipper, then proceeded to do what she had to do as he drove home.

And still she couldn't cry.

8

She had expected Simon to whip her again, to punish her for her little outburst, but he didn't; this time he seemed to be satisfied with her eventual submission. She was relieved to be spared the pain, but part of her had looked forward to the outpouring of love, passion and tenderness that had followed the previous whippings, and now once more she wondered if she would ever see that from him again.

But something had changed in her now. It was as if she was standing apart from herself, watching indifferently as this silly person with her name went about her life, with no will of her own, with no wish except to be loved by a man who made that life a hell. With the servants her shame and self-consciousness were still there, but she let no sign of it show now, giving them orders and instructions and dealing with problems just as if they had never seen her naked, had never been inside her, never had her mouth around their penises or her tongue inside their vaginas. And when, from time to time, Simon told her it was time for one or another of them to take his turn with her, she did what she had to do, following Simon's orders, performing as well as she could, but impersonally, unemotionally, watching herself all the time as if it were someone else doing these things, or having them done to her.

Then one day at breakfast Simon said, "I want you to go to the apartment today, Elaine. I will be bringing a client there after work."

Very carefully Elaine put down her coffee cup, forcing herself to swallow the sip she had just taken. She said nothing.

"Jason will drive you there this afternoon," Simon went on. "He will also secure you in the manner I will prescribe. He will have strict instructions, and will do only what I tell him to do. But you will allow him to do that."

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "Must I be 'secured,' Simon?" she said. "Do you think I'm going to run away?"

"No," Simon said. "But as I have explained to you, Elaine--"

"Yes, I know," she interrupted. "It adds to the atmosphere. It makes it more exciting. I don't really understand that, Simon. But I suppose I have no choice."

"Of course you have," Simon said. "You are free to leave right now, or at any time during the day. You have already abjured that choice on several occasions, Elaine, but you can always change your mind. You are, after all, a free woman."

The deliberate irony of this last statement pierced her like a sword, and the sudden shame and anger that flooded through her made her think again of actually leaving him, if only she could find the strength. But when he rose to leave, he came around the table and bent to kiss her goodbye. It was a loving, lingering kiss, gentle and sweet and yet full of the promise of passion, and as always she couldn't help responding. "I'm looking forward to tonight, darling," Simon said then, and left her there.

Tonight.

.

She sat in the back of the limo as Jason drove her to the apartment. The chauffeur's manner was respectful, even deferential, and they were silent as they went up in the elevator. He opened the apartment door with a key, and once inside she moved into the living room and then turned to him with her head high, doing her best to conceal her trepidation. "I take it my husband has given you instructions," she said flatly.

"Yes, ma'am," Jason replied. "First you need to get undressed, ma'am. Completely, please."

"I see." She was determined not to show her reluctance, or her fear. Of course, Jason had seen her naked before. But somehow that didn't lessen her self-consciousness as she began to strip before him. She thought of going into another room to undress, but what was the sense of that? She took off her clothes as matter-of-factly as she could, neither rushing nor hesitating. When she was naked she looked him in the eye as before. "What now?"

Jason led her to the foyer then, to the set of manacles set into the floor and hanging from the ceiling. There he fastened her in the position which was to become familiar to her, with her legs stretched wide apart and her arms pulled high above her head. An inverted Y. Aside from whatever manipulation was necessary to position her properly, he did not touch her body or make any advances. When he had secured the manacles around her wrists and ankles, he adjusted the chains so that she was drawn tight, her body straining painfully. She could not hold back a gasp of distress as he made the last adjustment. She was pulled so taut she was almost quivering.

Having secured her that way, Jason left without another word. Locking the door behind him.

It seemed hours that she waited there, and with every minute her pain and discomfort got worse. She didn't think she could stand it. She must pass out. But she couldn't; the anguish was too great, and the effort of trying to control the agony, first by hanging from her wrists to lessen the strain on her tortured legs, then by forcing those legs to support her in order to assuage her wrists, arms and shoulders, was unrelenting. Her head fell back; her breath came loud and harsh from her mouth; sweat ran down her tormented body in rivulets. How long must she wait this way?

Until Simon came, she thought. Damn him. Damn you, Simon. I love you, why are you doing this to me?

By the time she heard the sound of a key in the lock she was moaning continuously, moaning and whimpering in her cruel position. Her head came up quickly as the door opened. Simon was alone.

He took a few steps into the foyer and stopped still, gazing at her. His face was glowing, absolutely glowing. For several long moments he took in the sight of her stretched and aching body, her open, panting mouth, her outstretched, quivering legs, her tautened, heaving bosom.

"Magnificent," he said finally, his voice throaty. "You look magnificent that way, Elaine. Incredibly so." And standing there before her he began to take off his clothes.

Elaine stared. Through her pain she mustered up strength to speak, though her throat felt dry and raw and each word was an effort. "Simon," she rasped. "I thought...you...your client..."

"Unfortunately, he was unable to keep our appointment," Simon said. "His flight was delayed. I am hoping he will be here tomorrow." He finished removing his clothes and took a step toward her. His penis was erect and throbbing.

"Oh god." Elaine felt a mixture of relief and despair. The thought that all of this pain and suffering had been unnecessary was galling to her. And though she had at least been be spared the shame and degradation with a stranger that she had been expecting, that release would be only temporary. Tomorrow again... She couldn't bear it. "Take me down, Simon. Please. Take me down. I'm hurting. I'm in pain, Simon, please."

"I can see that," Simon said. He reached out a hand to touch her breast, then stroked it tenderly. "I can see you are, darling. It's lovely. So lovely."

The passion on his face and in his voice thrilled and frightened her at once. And as he came closer to her, pressing himself against her stretched and straining body, then reaching down to adjust himself at the entrance to her open vagina, a sudden cry escaped her gasping mouth. "Oh god, Simon!" she choked out, and then she screamed as he thrust himself up inside her. There was agony in that scream, but not agony alone.

Her shrieks and cries continued as Simon's arma went around her, his hands grasping her buttocks, pulling her tightly against his body as he proceeded to fuck her with strong, hard strokes. Each thrust sent bolts of terrible pain through her body, pulling her wrists and ankles cruelly against the metal cuffs, torturing her stretched and aching muscles. But even in her torment she was grateful that it was Simon who was doing this to her, her husband, her lover, not some stranger or a servant or a business associate. Not today anyway. Not right now. Simon was moving harder, his face buried in her neck, gasping and grunting as he reveled in her helpless hurting body. "Sweet Elaine," he panted, his voice mingling with her cries and moans. "Sweet hurting baby. My sweet suffering wife." As usual, his passion thrilled her, but even in the midst of her suffering and confusion the thought came to her that he was making love to her pain, not to her. Loving her agony. Fucking her helplessness. And though a part of her was still aroused by his wanting her--for whatever reason--she was unable to respond as strongly to him as in the past. Whether because of the all-consuming pain, or her unwanted thoughts, or the memory of Sarah, or a combination of all those things, for the first time in their life together Simon's lovemaking failed to bring her to climax.

If Simon was aware of that, he didn't acknowledge it. With a final lunge that made her scream more loudly than ever, he came inside her holding her tightly and agonizingly against him until he had finished shooting. Then he let her go and stepped back, panting. Gasping for breath and moaning, she was unable to speak, but her eyes pleaded with him to release her from her bondage.

But it was only after he had gone in to wash himself off, and then had dressed again, that he produced his keys and unlocked her fetters. Elaine crumpled to the floor, unable at first to stand on her legs or even to move much at all without cramping pain suffusing her stiff and throbbing body. She lay there in a kind of foetal position for a long time, moaning softly, while Simon sat and watched her. When at last she was able to uncurl herself and, with some difficulty, to sit up, Simon went into the kitchen and made drinks for both of them, bringing hers back to her.

"This will become easier in time, Elaine," he told her. "Your body will adjust, to some extent, to the necessity of your circumstances. Though not too much, I hope," he added.

Elaine stared at him. "God," she croaked out finally. She was still breathing heavily. "Why do you hate me so, Simon? Why?"

His eyes widened. "Hate you? I don't hate you, Elaine. I love you. Why else did I marry you? Why else do I want you with me?"

"I don't know," she said hollowly. "Maybe because of the pleasure you take in my pain. For the satisfaction it gives you to make me do these...these terrible, shaming things. Maybe for that."

"But, darling, those things wouldn't give me pleasure if I didn't care for you. What you call my satisfaction comes from knowing that you return my love so much that you willingly give me what I ask, so as to make me happy."

"Willingly?" she said bitterly. But how could she refute that? She could always leave him. Even now she could leave him.

"Tomorrow," Simon said after a pause, "my client should finally arrive. I will instruct Jason to bring you here again, and to position you in the same way. I am sure he will be pleased with you."

Again there was a long pause. Elaine finished her drink. Finally she took a deep breath. "Simon?" she said.

"Yes, darling."

"If I--if you insist on putting me up that way...must you have Jason do it? He...he's so..."

Simon's face darkened. "Has he been offensive to you, Elaine? Has he overstepped his orders?"

"Offensive?" She almost laughed. "He has been nothing but offensive to me, but not in any way that you--" She hesitated. "That you haven't approved of," she finished, a trace of bitterness in her voice again. "But he--I--I don't think you need him for this, Simon. I think I could--I'm sure I could do it myself. If necessary."

Simon raised his eyebrows. "Do it yourself?" he repeated.

"Yes." She swallowed. "I'm sure I could. Just fasten the manacles around my ankles and then...and then stretch up and...Yes, Simon, I know I could. Can't we dispense with Jason, at least for this? Please, Simon."

Simon looked doubtful. "Even if you could do that, Elaine, Jason would still have to drive you here. So he might as well--"

"Why?" she said. "I can get here on my own. I'm not a prisoner, Simon, as you have so often pointed out. There are taxis, you know. There is public transportation. I'm not helpless, Simon. Not in that way, anyway."

Simon just looked at her. "Show me," he said finally.

"What?"

"Show me you can do it. Put yourself up like that."

So she did. It was terribly painful and difficult, with her body still aching and stiff from her earlier ordeal, but she forced herself to do it. With Simon watching her every move, she spread her legs as wide as she could to secure her ankles in the floor manacles, then made herself stand erect and stretch her arms up as far as she could reach in order to close each of the hanging cuffs around her wrists. The effort brought cries and moans and grunts of pain from her open mouth, but she managed after a number of tries, and at last stood there before her husband as she had when he first came in, utterly helpless, naked, stretched and straining, panting and gasping and perspiring.

"Very good, Elaine," Simon said, and his voice was hoarse with renewed arousal. "All right, then, I agree that we can relieve Jason of this duty. In fact I quite like the idea of you preparing yourself this way for the entertainment of my friends and colleagues. You are indeed a marvelous wife."

Those last words, which once would have thrilled her, went almost unheard in her agonized state. She was conscious only of the torment in her body, and her desperate desire to be taken down from there. But Simon was undressing again, and this time, as he once more vented his lust upon her tortured body, she couldn't keep herself from screaming with pain. With pain and despair. And self-loathing.

9

Simon's client did arrive the following day. Simon called her at the house to tell her that they would be at the apartment that afternoon. "I will call you before we leave," he said. "You will be there, won't you, darling?" he added.

There was a choking sensation in her throat. She swallowed hard. "Yes, Simon," she replied.

"As you were yesterday?" he persisted.

Damn him. He knew the answer. What was he doing, rubbing it in? Showing her--again--that he could control her, that she would be what he called a good wife, no matter how difficult he made it for her? No matter what she had to do to keep him. And he was obviously right. She still couldn't fight her love for him, her need for him, in spite of everything. Just his voice on the phone was thrilling to her, even though what he was saying almost made her ill.

"Yes, Simon," she said.

.

She took a taxi to the apartment. At first she had wondered what she should wear, until she had realized that it didn't matter. Simon's client would probably never see her dressed. On the way there she told herself again that she didn't have to do this. Didn't have to do any of it. She could leave right now, tell the driver to take her to the airport, go away somewhere, start over. No more shame, no more pain, no more degrading humiliation. Find somebody else and lead a normal life.

Without Simon.

At the apartment she took off all her clothes and proceeded to chain herself up as she had the day before. She was still somewhat sore and stiff from that ordeal, which made it even more difficult. But she did it. And then she waited.

And, through the pain, she remembered. Remembered the first time. Remembered all of it.

Until the door opened, and Simon said, "Richard, I'd like you to meet my wife."

* * *

"Holy shit!" Richard gasped out. He seemed to be frozen there as he took in the sight of the naked, tautly stretched woman. After a long moment he turned his gaze to Simon, his eyes still popping. "This--this is your wife?" he choked out.

"Yes, it is," Simon replied. "Elaine, this is Mr. Barns, a business associate of mine. Say hello to him."

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," Elaine said. Her voice was unsteady but clear. Barnes didn't answer. He was staring at her again.

"Attractive, isn't she?" Simon said. "Especially that way. I do hope you approve, Richard."

"Jesus Christ!" Barns choked out. "I didn't--I mean, you said a girl--a girl who would--who I could--"

"Who would do anything you want. Yes. And here she is. Would you like me to take her down for you, or would you like to play with her for a while as she is?"

"I--Play with her?"

"Or whatever," Simon said.

.

"I can't believe this!" Richard said again. He was breathing rather rapidly, and there was a noticeable bulge at the front of his trousers. "My god, look at her! How could--did you put her up like this?"

"Oh, no," Simon replied. "Elaine has learned to do it herself. She's very obliging. As you will find out, Richard, if you put her to the test."

"And I--I can--" He reached out a hand toward the taut, straining body, not quite touching it.

"Yes, Richard. You can do anything you want. Within certain limitations, of course. I wouldn't want you to kill her, or to inflict any really permanent damage. That would be unfortunate. She is, after all, my wife, and I wouldn't want to lose her." He stepped up beside Richard and reached out to caress Elaine's face, gently pushing a strand of hair back over her shoulder. "I do love her, you see," he said, looking into Elaine's eyes. "And she loves me. Don't you, darling?"

"Yes, Simon," she said breathlessly. And she did. She knew that he could see that in her eyes. Behind the pain, and the strain, and the fear. He had to see it.

"Of course," he said, stepping back again. "Which is why, as I say, she will do anything you wish, Richard. Isn't that so, Elaine?"

"Yes, Simon," Elaine whispered.

"Tell him," Simon said. "Tell Mr. Barnes that you will do anything he wants. And that he can do anything he wants to you. Tell him, darling."

Elaine swallowed visibly. She turned her head to look at her husband's friend. Her voice was low, and trembled slightly, but again it was clear. "I will do anything you want, Mr. Barnes," she said. "And you can do anything you want to me."

"There you are, Richard," Simon said. "She's all yours now."

Richard licked his dry lips. Once more his eyes moved up and down over the naked, straining, helpless body in front of him. Then he reached out a slow, slightly trembling hand, and placed it over Elaine's left breast. He cupped the smooth, taut mound, rubbing it slightly. A small gasp came from his mouth. And he brought his other hand up to her right breast, holding them both, squeezing them gently. "Oh my god," he whispered.

Then he took hold of her nipples, holding them both between thumb and forefinger, and suddenly squeezed as hard as he could, at the same time twisting them sharply.

Elaine screamed.

Simon smiled.

.

Richard Barnes, although he obviously took delight in hurting her, did not have a lot of imagination. He seemed obsessed with her breasts, pulling and twisting the nipples, then biting them as hard as he could, until it seemed he would chew them off. The agonizing torment made her scream again and again, much as she tried not to, and made her tortured, straining body twist and writhe sharply within its limited capacity, which only added to her suffering. Simon stood to one side, watching, his eyes glowing softly. Through her pain she loved him and hated him, but though the hate was real, it could not stand up to the love. She tried to keep herself from acknowledging that love as she tried to steel herself against reacting to the pain, and just as unsuccessfully.

After tormenting her nipples for some time, Barnes took a step back and began to slap at her breasts, whipping his hand across them as hard as he could, first forward, then back, again and again. Then he used both hands, striking each of her breasts alternately. He was breathing heavily by now, and perspiring, but the blows didn't stop. Elaine couldn't scream any more, but her gasps and sobs and forced cries of agony echoed through the room.

Barnes stopped only when his arms got too tired to continue. He was panting strenously and his face was twisted with lust. "I want to fuck her ass," he gasped out.

Simon only nodded. "Do you want me to take her down for you?"

"No. I want her this way. Christ." Barnes walked around to stand behind her. Through his labored breathing, and hers, Elaine heard the sound of his zipper as he pulled it down. Other than that, he didn't bother to undress. She felt his hands on her buttocks, pulling them apart. Then he was there, prodding at her, finding, pushing into her. His penis felt damp, but other than that there was no lubrication. His hands moved around and slid up to clamp her breasts hard, and when he thrust up into her anus with all his force, Elaine found that she was able to scream again after all.

The agony now was excruciating, both in her searingly violated rectum and in her manacled wrists and ankles as he lunged again and again against her helplessly stretched-out body. Not to mention her previously tortured breasts, which he held on to as tightly as he could, using them for leverage as he slammed himself into her. Elaine thought she might pass out, but the the sharp stabbing anguish of his repeated thrusts prevented that. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she wondered vaguely if she might go insane.

Then Simon was standing in front of her, smiling into her eyes. HIs own eyes were shining. "Darling Elaine," he murmured. "Sweet baby. Hurting so much, aren't you, darling? Hurting for me."

Then he kissed her, his lips seeking and finding her moaning, gasping, open mouth, his tongue moving into it. And when the terrible ripping pain of Barnes's battering body caused her to jerk her head away and cry out in torment, he took hold of her hair with both hands and, pulling her lips back to his, used it to hold her in place, kissing her harder as she moaned and sobbed and panted into his mouth.

When he let her go at last, it was to step back and undress himself. His penis was ragingly erect. Reflexively, she shook her head, but even through her fear and agony and horror something inside her was rejoicing. He wanted her, he still wanted her, needed her. Even if it was her submission that excited him, her pain that he would be fucking, it was her, his wife, that he loved.

But she screamed again when he took her, and she continued to cry out her suffering as two men now battered away at her helpless, hanging, horribly stretched body, establishing a contrapuntal rhythm between them and fucking her hard, Barnes's hands still squeezing her breasts, Simon clutching at her hair and kissing her open, squalling mouth again and again.

Kissing her agony.

Fucking her pain.

Making love to her submission, to his possession of her body. And her mind, and her soul.

That was what he loved.

But that was what she was now.

That was all she was.

10

Not all of the clients and business associates that Simon brought to the apartment in the following weeks and months were as sadistic as Barnes, although several were, and one or two were worse. She was whipped with belts as she hung in position, one man whipping her breasts as well as her back. One, while taking her standing up, enjoyed touching his lit cigar to her buttocks to make her strain away from it, pushing her lower body hard against him, adding to his pleasure. One only wanted to degrade her, making her crawl and lick his feet before sucking him off, and pissing on her afterward. But most of them were more interested in her sexual availability than in her suffering, and preferred fucking her--or having her fuck them--to hurting or shaming her. Simon always watched, and sometimes made suggestions. The things that she was required to do Elaine performed mechanically and with as much stoicism as she could muster. She always did them well--that was part of the requirement--but she did her best to be unemotional, even numb, neither pretending to enjoy it nor giving vent to her actual feelings of shame, humiliation and horror.

Simon was always aroused by these sessions, but she was dismayingly aware that his passions were particularly inflamed on the occasions when she was made to suffer pain. When the sessions were only sexual, he would generally not join in--unless the client requested that he do so--until the man had left. Then he would strip and take her with his usual intensity, praising her for her docility and submission, telling her he loved her, rousing her own passion until she couldn't hold back and, despite all her conflicting emotions, found herself clutching at him and climaxing violently in his arms.

But when the client abused her, hurting her and making her scream and cry and twist in anguish, Simon's lust would appear uncontrollable, and he would take her wildly, often while the other man continued to torture her, battering at her body, his hands and mouth devouring her writhing flesh, seeming to draw extra strength and stamina from her suffering. Although her pain and agony usually prevented her from coming at those times, there was still that tiny bit of her somewhere beyond it all that could not help rejoicing in his passion for her.

She knew, when she was able to think about it, that her unquenchable love for this strange man was as sick and twisted, in its own way, as was his for her. She knew it would destroy her, perhaps even kill her, if she did not leave him. But she also knew she could not live without him.

Something had to give.

.

Simon gave another dinner party, this time only for his male friends. Some of the men he invited had been among the guests who had attended the previous gathering; others were new. He did not bother to bind or gag her for their titillation this time, nor did he require her to undress for them; in fact, she was naked from the start. By now she thought she should have been used to having strangers see her nude, but she was not. The impulse to cringe from their stares and glances, to cover herself with her hands, was still almost irresistibe, though she knew better than to give in to it. Simon had her kneel at his feet as he stood at the door to greet the arriving guests. Those who had been there before had last seen her in just that position, kissing their feet as they left the house. Now, at Simon's orders, she did the same as they entered.

As before, Simon had her put on an exhibition for them with a servant as an appetizer before dinner was served. By this time there were not many of the staff left whom she had not already been required to service, but one of them was a fat, rather feeble-minded man of indeterminate age named Toby, who functioned as a general handyman, doing repair and maintenance work, plumbing and whatever other odd jobs needed to be done around the house.

Toby was none too clean at the best of times, and at the time Simon had summoned him into the dining room he had been working down in the basement, helping to restore an abandoned corner of the place which had once been a coal bin. He came into the room covered with dirt, soot and sweat, and stood there in his grimy work clothes, looking around bewilderedly at the glittering company in which he found himself. But when his glance fell on Elaine's naked body, his eyes began to gleam, and a foolish grin spread over his face. Even Toby, she thought wretchedly, must have known how Simon had been giving her to the entire house staff, must have known his turn would eventually come.

She had steeled herself as much as she could to the prospect of this latest evening of public humiliation which Simon had so casually arranged, determined to get through it with, if not dignity, at least stoicism. But her gorge rose when Simon, after directing Toby to take off his clothes, had remarked on his need of a bath, and had then instructed Elaine to bathe him--with her tongue. To lick his filthy body all over until it was clean, and only then to complete the job by taking his penis in her mouth and sucking him off, as the guests looked on. It was as though, as with her pain, his lust for her degradation, rather than diminishing with time, as she had hoped, was growing more intense, requiring greater suffering, further shame, more extreme measures to satisfy his need.

Thoughts of rebellion flashed through her mind. But that would mortify Simon in front of his friends. He would surely punish her for that. But then, he punished her routinely now. He no longer needed a reason. Besides, if she just left, as he had always said she could, she would not be there for him to punish. But all the time she knew she was kidding herself. She would not leave. She could not leave. As long as she was alive she would belong to Simon, and she would do what he wanted.

As long as she was alive.

She shut down her mind and went to her knees beside Toby's now recumbent form. She heard the gasps and murmurs of the watching company as she began to lick the grime and sweat from his body. Toby squirmed and giggled. It took a long time, but the guests showed no impatience. She licked him clean, from his face to his feet, having him turn over so she could get at his back. And his ass. Several times she thought she might vomit, but she fought the feeling down. Then she had him turn back over, and she took his very hard phallus in her mouth and exerted all her skill. It didn't take long. When he came, she raised her head at Simon's command so the guests could clearly see her swallowing his sperm. In spite of herself there were tears rolling down her cheeks.

This time Simon did not make his guests wait until after they had eaten to experience the pleasures of Elaine's mouth. Even as the main course was served he had her crawling under the table as before, sucking off each guest in turn while they ate, until she finished just as the repast was coming to an end. After the table was cleared, he had her get on top of it and spread herself out, lying on her back, so that any of the guests seated around her could reach out and touch her body, stroke it and play with it. Soon most of them were aroused again, and Simon offered them the use of her, right there on the table. Most of them accepted, stripping and taking her roughly on the hard surface while the others looked on, calling out exclamations, cheering them on or just watching in silence. A few preferred to use her mouth again, and one man asked Simon if he could take her anally, to which Simon assented. Elaine bore it all as stoically as she could, blocking out as much as possible all thought or emotion, although again she couldn't help the tears that occasionally seeped from her mostly closed eyes.

Two or three of the men, however, being shyer than the others, chose not to take her in this public manner. Simon understood. "Not everyone has a taste for exhibitionism," he murmured. "But have no fear, gentlemen. I will eventually be lending Elaine out for individual use, and if you wish you will be able to spend a night with her in the privacy of your own home."

This was too much for Elaine. "Simon, for god's sake!" she gasped weakly. But the minute she said the words she wished she hadn't. She saw Simon's face change.

"I apologize for my wife's recalcitrance," he said flatly. "It is most discouraging to me that she is apparently still not completely prepared to comply with her husband's wishes. Discouraging and embarrassing. After all these months it seems she still requires correction." With this he opened his belt and took it off. "Perhaps some of you gentlemen would be willing to help me administer some now."

Elaine forced herself to sit up. She felt that she might be sick. She knew she should not say anything more, but she had to. But what could she say? There was obviously no reasoning with Simon at this point. Pleading would surely do no good, and would degrade her even more in front of this company, if that were possible. She swallowed hard. "Simon," she got out, with as much dignity as she could muster, "may I speak with you alone, please?"

Simon's face did not change. "Anything you have to say to me now you can say in front of my friends, Elaine," he said.

It was hopeless, but she had to try. "Simon, you're going too far," she made herself say. "Can't you see that you're destroying me, and destroying my...our..."

Simon's hard eyes bored into her. "Our what?" he demanded. "Our marriage? I don't think so, Elaine. What I am attempting to do is to strengthen our marital bonds, and I must do it in my own way. Our love? Again, no. My love for you remains as strong as ever." In spite of herself, her present circumstances and everything else, Elaine couldn't help feeling a thrill deep inside her at those words. "As, I believe, does yours for me," Simon continued. "If not, as I have often told you before, Elaine, you are free to leave at any time. Even now." He paused, waiting. He was showing off now, demonstrating to his friends the power of his hold on her, knowing, as she knew, that she could never leave him as long as she lived.

But she could not live like this. She could not.

When she didn't move, he went on. "Now, Elaine, my friends are waiting, and you can do one of two things. You can either get off the table, go upstairs and get dressed, and then leave here forever; or you can lie down, turn over onto your stomach and allow these gentlemen and myself to punish you for your disobedience. Which will it be?"

She didn't know how long she sat there unmoving, but it was probably not as long as it felt to her. Then, slowly and stiffly, she lay back down on the table, and a moment later turned herself over onto her front, her breasts crushed beneath her against the hard surface, her face turned to one side, away from Simon. Her arms stretched out automatically, her hands clutching the sides of the table. She wasn't crying now; it was as if her tear ducts had dried up, along with the rest of her. As if she was already dead inside.

But she couldn't help letting out a startled cry as Simon's first blow cracked loudly across her buttocks. It felt harder than any he had given her before, and when he hit her again she was sure of it; though his manner before his guests was as calm and deliberate as ever, he was furious with her, and manifesting it through the savage wielding of the belt. She clenched her teeth together and tightened her grip on the table edges, determined not to cry out again. But it was no use. Simon lashed her half a dozen times, on her back as well as her buttocks, and the pain was excruciating. After that he handed the belt on to his guests, at least half of whom had no compunction about using it on her. Each one who hit her did so at least twice before passing the strap to the next man. Some of the blows were relatively light, but many of the men whipped her with all their strength, the belt slashing into her back, buttocks and thighs. Try as she might, she couldn't hold back her moans and cries, and before they were finished she was screaming with each blow, her body twisting, her knuckles white as she clutched frantically at the table to keep herself from reflexively turning over to avoid the pain. If she did that she was afraid they still wouldn't stop.

When it was over most of the guests were ready to take her again. Simon gave them free rein, and this time they pulled her off the table onto the floor, where they set upon her. Soon she found herself being used by two men at once, and sometimes three, and by now they were less inhibited, their lust less restrained by the presence of their host, her husband. The lingering pain of the whipping made the ordeal a continual agony in every way, but through it all Elaine was again aware of the deadness inside her. Simon had already killed her spirit, her soul. All that was left was her body.

And, god help her, her love.

.

Again Elaine crawled to the door and remained kneeling there, kissing the feet of the guests as they departed. When they were all gone, she felt Simon's hand in her hair, cruelly pulling her up to her feet. His face was a mask of rage, and she was afraid he was going to hit her with his fist, but he didn't.

"You disgrace me, Elaine," he gritted, his hand still in her hair, twisting it painfully. "I despair of you. Will you never learn to be a true wife?" He flung her from him then, and she staggered back and fell to the floor. She expected him to fall upon her, to take her with the savage mixture of love and fury that he usually showed to her after shaming and torturing her before others. But he turned away from her. "I don't want to see you any more tonight," he said. "You are not worthy of sharing my bed." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Toby has undoubtedly gone back to the cellar," he said then. "Toby may be an imbecile, but he is an invaluable man, since he knows nothing but his work and cares nothing about the hour when there is a job to be done. He deserves a bit more of a reward, I think. You will go down there, Elaine, and spend the night with him. Tell him he can do anything he wants with you, all night long, as long as he does it in the cellar. The cellar seems a good place for you right now, Elaine. Perhaps I'll keep you there permanently. We shall see."

And with that he walked out.

11

Her journey to the basement was slow and painful, since her body was raw and aching from the whipping she had received, but inside she was numb. As Simon had assumed, Toby had gone back to work after his session with her, and was now busily digging out piles of detritus from a corner of the former coal bin. He blinked and grinned when he looked up and spied Elaine's still naked body coming toward him. He continued to blink and grin in his feeble-minded way as she tonelessly said to him what Simon had told her to say. But he got the idea all right. When she finished his grin got wider, and he dropped the shovel he had been using and began to pull off his filthy clothes.

It was a very long night. Toby was not much given to variety or experimentation, being content with simply possessing her in the most straightforward manner, but his strength and endurance seemed endless, as did his primitive lust, and he took her again and again on the grimy cellar floor, scarcely giving her time to rest between bouts, his soiled, sweaty body crushing her beneath him, his fetid breath making her retch as he mashed his panting mouth on hers.

It was only toward dawn that he finally fell asleep. Elaine, although aching and exhausted and more lifeless inside than ever, knew she could not sleep herself. Rolling quietly away from the snoring body sprawled half on top of her, she managed with some difficulty to get to her feet, stumbling a little as she made her way around the still mostly dark basement room. Simon had told her to spend the night, but the night was nearly over. Or was she to stay here until he told her differently? She didn't know, and she couldn't think clearly enough to make a decision.

She had never been down here before. Wandering aimlessly in the musty dimness, she thought she heard faint scurrying sounds, sounds that appeared to be coming from inside the walls or under the floor. Mice? Rats? She should have been frightened, she knew that somewhere in her mind, but she could not feel the fear. She could not feel anything. And then suddenly she was aware that she was crying. Not sobbing, but the tears were running down her face. How strange, she thought, but she could not stop the tears.

She was at the far side of the basement now, a section that was evidently used for storage. There were boxes and an old trunk or two, and several shelves fixed into the wall, on which was a crowded assortment of cans, jars and other containers, most of them dusty and moldering. She was about to turn away when her eye fell on one particular can, whose coating of dust was less thick than the others, and whose brightly colored label shone through. There was a large red skull and crossbones on the label, denoting some kind of hazardous material, and the word "poison." Elaine looked more closely, reaching out to brush some of the dust away with her fingers.

Rat poison.

She looked at it for a long time. Then, slowly, her hand went out and picked up the can. It felt heavy enough to indicate that it was not empty. It had been opened, but the press-on top was tightly sealed back into place. Elaine quickly replaced it on the shelf. She was trembling. What was she thinking?

But she knew.

She stood there shaking and hugging herself, in an agony of indecision. And at that moment she heard Toby's voice, calling for her. Evidently he was ready again. The night was not yet over. Again her hand stretched out to touch the can on the shelf. She stood that way for a long moment; then she turned and made her way back to where Toby was waiting.

.

When he had once again vented his lust upon her battered and filthy body he immediately dropped off to sleep again. Elaine lay as he left her, barely moving for several minutes. Finally she rose again, slowly and painfully. Her body ached worse than ever, but inside she was no longer numb; she felt quiet and at peace. She knew what she was going to do.

She had the can of rat poison with her as she made her way out of the cellar. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, she was shaking again, but her thoughts were clear. She knew what she had known now for a long time. She could not live with Simon, and she could not live without him. This was the only way.

In the upper hallway, she glanced at the closed door of their bedroom, behind which Simon would be sleeping. Even now her heart beat faster at the thought of him, but she did not go in. Instead she went into the master bathroom next door, where, after taking care of her biological needs, she filled the bathtub and took a long, luxurious bath. When she got out she dried herself thoroughly and then, sitting down on the toilet seat, picked up the can which she had deposited carefully on the floor.

The top had been pressed securely back into place, who knew how long ago, and she was unable to pull it off with her fingers. Searching the medicine cabinet she came up with a sturdy nail file with which, with some effort, she was finally able to pry it loose. The can was about half full of a grayish-looking powder. It looked harmless enough, but of course she knew better. She sniffed it cautiously, but could detect no odor. How much would it take? she wondered. She wanted to be sure. She would take as much as she could.

Her hands were shaking badly as she tipped some of the powder into one of them, but she didn't spill any. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she stuck out her tongue and tentatively licked at the stuff. It tasted strange and rather bitter, but not too bad, she thought. Quickly then, before she could stop herself, she pressed her hand to her mouth and gobbled it all down.

More. Again she poured some into her hand, a greater amount this time, and scarfed it up. There was a burning sensation in her throat, but she paid it no mind. More. The stuff was dry and cloggy in her mouth, and was getting harder to swallow. Breathing hard now, she poured a quantity of it into a toothbrush glass and mixed it with water from the sink. She was able to drink the glass down, and she did the same thing again. And then again.

There was more powder left, but she couldn't swallow any more. It had to be enough, it had to. Her chest was burning now along with her throat, but she felt nothing else. She stood up slowly, and suddenly felt a severe cramp in her stomach which made her almost double over. It was working. She stumbled to the bathroom door and out into the hall. All she wanted now was to see Simon before the end came.

In the hallway she was seized with cramps so painful that they brought her to her knees. She had to crawl most of the way to the bedroom door, but once there she was able to pull herself to her feet. She opened the door and half fell into the room.

Simon woke up as she entered. He had been sleeping nude. It was growing light outside, and she could see him all right, although there was a kind of mist before her eyes. He frowned at the sight of her. "Elaine, why are you--" he started to say, but stopped when he took in her condition, her face pale and twisted, her mouth panting hard, almost gasping, her body barely able to hold itself erect. "What is it?" he demanded. "What's the matter? Are you sick? Did Toby--"

"I'm dying, Simon," Elaine rasped out. "I killed myself. I love you, Simon. I--I can't--" Another cramp caught her and she doubled up, clutching the doorknob still in her hand.

"Christ!" Simon cried. "What--how could you--" Then quickly he got control of himself. "I'll call an ambulance," he snapped, moving to the dresser where his cell phone lay.

"No!" Elaine screamed, and with a crazed, convulsive movement she flung herself forward, snatching the phone from his hand and throwing it against the wall so hard that it smashed into pieces. Simon stared at her, stunned for a moment into immobility. Then he moved to the door. Elaine blocked his way.

"No, Simon!" she gasped. "It's too late. I'm dying, Simon. I have to die. It's for you, Simon. It's the only way. Oh god!" Her whole body was seized with agony, and she clutched at him frenziedly. "It hurts, Simon. I'm hurting so much. For you. For you, Simon. You love my pain. Aahhh!" she screamed as the burning cramps seared through her.

"Elaine--let me--" He tried to thrust her away, to get past her to the door, but she clung to him desperately, thrusting herself against his body.

"Love me, Simon. Love my pain, please, Simon, I'm hurting so much and it's yours, Simon, it's for you, Simon, please." Her words were hardly intelligible now, and the room was spinning. She couldn't stand up any more, even holding on to Simon, but she kept her hold, pulling him down with her as she sank to the floor. Pulling him on top of her.

And he was hard. Yes! Yes, he always loved her pain. Her body twisting in agony was exciting to him, even now. Maybe especially now. Her legs spread wide, went around him, clutched him spasmodically. And yes, he was there, he was taking her! Joy mingled with her overwhelming anguish, and her tears were tears of thankfulness as well as pain. Simon was moving now, saying something, she couldn't make it out through the roaring in her ears and the sounds of her own agony-filled screams, but he was taking her, loving her, possessing her tortured body as it writhed and bucked and convulsed and spasmed with the terrible searing horror inside her. Then it was all growing fainter, growing distant, it was all slipping away, but Simon was pounding at her now, she could feel that, she could hear his groans of pleasure, taking her in her pain, about to come into the body which she had sacrificed to him. As one last tongue of fire stabbed through her she frantically blinked away her tears, and the last thing she saw before she died was the twisted, ecstatic face of the man she loved.