Message-ID: <19907eli$9902140443@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/19907.txt> From: np98rb@mail.telepac.pt (Christine & David Stevenson) Subject: The Governor's Wife - part five Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Authentication-Warning: philabs-gw.philabs.research.philips.com: smap set sender to <usenet@orca.ip.pt> using -f Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <36c56b05.58681060@news.ip.pt> Warning: This story is about non-consensual domination. It is fiction, and erotic - despite or perhaps partly because it is non-consensual. - - - - - - - - - - - - cut-here - - - - - - - - - - - - - The Governor's Wife by Victor Bruno Part Five "Had a good time with our Mrs. Page then?" leered the guard escorting Frank Lander back to gaol. "Super tits, eh? And what an arse!" "I've been sweating my guts out. On heavy chores," answered Frank sourly. Did this bastard really imagine he'd been having a good time? His hatred for the man was suddenly fierce. Almost as fierce as the hatred he now had for himself. What a weak, cowardly, swine he was! "Ah," said the guard complacently, "no doubt that's why you're walking so stiff." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE THREE DAYS which followed his visit to the Governor's wife were uncomfortable ones for Frank Lander. Both physically and mentally. In the first place, his buttocks were exceedingly sore and tender after the cruel beating she had given him with the hard-backed hairbrush. It was incredible that such a simple domestic object could give such pain .... both at the time and afterwards. If Frank had not experienced it, he could never have believed it. Again and again he felt hot with shame when he recalled how he had been reduced to an object, grovelling and pleading. Even to tears. By a woman! Perhaps he was a weakling. Certainly he felt sick in the stomach every time he remembered he would soon have to return for more 'domestic duties'. At the same time, Frank felt a tingling of his nerves at the memory of his 'employer's' superb body. That thin black leotard had scarcely hidden anything and seemed to emphasise her lush curves. My God, thought Frank, if only she was a nympho and not a sadist, what a time I would have had! I could have stripped her naked and fucked her to a standstill. Two or three times a day, Frank Lander would retire to the comparative privacy of the lavatory and masturbate vigorously while he thought about that. It was then that the burning glow in his buttocks would seem to add to the intensity of his lust. "I'll fuck you .... I'll fuck you ...." he kept murmuring in time to the pumping of his hand. "Fuck the arse off you .... oh you beauty .... fuck .... the .... arse off .... you .... aaaaaahhhhh...." But Frank knew he was going to do no such thing. On the contrary, it was now obvious that, if he got out of line in the slightest.... if she even guessed he was looking at her with longing .... she would delight in making him suffer for it. That's how the bitch got her kicks. Did the Governor know about her, he wondered? It seemed unlikely, since Hettie Page had explicitly warned him about saying a word to a living soul. "I'll have you on a rape charge so fast you won't know what's hit you," she had said. She would too, reckoned Frank. Then he'd spend the rest of his life in stinking Oakhampton Gaol. She probably only put up with her fat, middle-aged husband because of the opportunities his position as Governor gave her. It was a perfect set-up for a sadist. A succession of helpless males sent to her .... for her amusement. When the day for Frank's return dawned, he almost panicked. He even considered going to the Governor and telling all. But, in the end, common sense prevailed. The Governor wouldn't believe him. The rape charge would follow. The Governor would believe his wife. No .... I'm trapped, Frank Lander told himself. I've just got to play it her way and hope she gets tired of me before too long. Then it would be the turn of some other poor bastard to be put through the hoop. Frank's heart was hammering as he stood at the Governor's front door, a guard alongside him. Play it cool .... keep in line .... no tricks ..... don't think of her like that .... The door opened. A scarlet blouse with a plunging V neckline. My God .... that cleavage! A pair of black ski-pants that fitted as close as a second skin. Ankle boots of scarlet leather, with teetering high heels. "Prisoner 808 reporting for household duties, Mrs. Page." The guard's grey eyes were greedy. Some of these cons have all the luck. He'd have loved to have got his hands on those tits, even for a moment. How was it that slob of a Governor had got such a dish? "Thank you, Guard. I don't want you back till six. I have extra duties for this prisoner today." "Very good, Ma'am." The Guard saluted deferentially and reluctantly turned away. A curt nod of the head from Hettie Page indicated that Frank was to enter. He caught the sexy scent of her and actually brushed the softness of her blouse as he went by. He heard the door close and heard it being locked. "Go into the living room and drop your trousers and pants," came the curt order. Frank found himself beginning to flush with mingled anger and humiliation. She knew she had him exactly where she wanted, he realised. He was on the level of a Roman matron's slave. As he unbuckled his trousers, Frank heard her continuing a conversation on the telephone which was at the far end of the hall. Down went his trousers, then his underpants. He felt the absurdity of it; the degradation of it. Standing there like that, like a naughty boy, at the behest of a woman. But what a woman! Her nipples had been prominent through that thin blouse .... and Frank recalled the half-cup brassieres he had seen in her bedroom. He found himself thinking about fondling those ripe orbs. Then the sweat broke out on his brow as the inevitable began to happen. Christ no! He mustn't start the day in that state! Oh God, what would she do to him? Desperately, Frank picked up a glass ashtray, which stood on the arm of a chair, and pressed it's coldness to his genitals. It helped. Thankfully, he felt the slow subsidence. Think of anything .... anything .... but that, he told himself fiercely. After a while, Frank replaced the ashtray and continued to stand there listlessly. There was no reason why she couldn't keep him there for half an hour or more if she wished. She had so many ways of exercising her power. At long last, there was the sound of a telephone receiver being replaced and Frank tensed. The click of high heels on tiles .... then she was in the room. "Lift up your shirt ...." Frank did so, flushing hot. "Bend over ...." Electric needles seemed to run up Frank's spine to his scalp. What was she going to do? Surely not beat him again! A plea came to his lips. Then the toe of her boot kicked him sharply and painfully in the cleft of his nates. Frank gasped breathlessly. The first pain of the day, he thought. "I said bend over ...." Frank bent over. He must not cross her..... He must co-operate. Obey .... submit. The coolness of her hand ran lightly over his rump. "Still a bit sore?" "Yes .... Ma'am." He was, too. "It's a nice colour. Surprising how long it lasted." Frank bit his lips. It was ridiculous that he should be bending over in this undignified way. But he was doing it. What else? "Alright .... pull them up. There's a list of your chores on the table." Thankfully Frank covered himself up and stood erect. He stole a sideways glance at the Governor's wife who was regarding him with something like disdainful amusement. Once again Frank saw the thrusting breasts and the prominent nipples .... the skin tight pants. Oh God, the thrust and curve of those hips! Quickly he tore his eyes and his mind away and picked up the list. As before, there were scores of items on it. He ran his eye down, scarcely daring to look at the last one. Previously, it had read: "Fetch me the hairbrush off my dressing table." Now it said. "Fetch the belt from the top drawer of my dressing table." Frank's nerves jangled and his stomach seemed to drop about a foot. Perhaps, he told himself, if I behave very well .... do everything she wants perfectly .... there will be no reason for her to use it. He was, he realised, clutching at straws. "I want everything on that list completed by three o'clock this afternoon." "Yes, Ma'am ...." Why, wondered Frank, when the Guard is not coming for me before six o'clock. She was up to something. What a thought? He did not like to contemplate it. "Get on with it then." "Yes, Ma'am ...." "No slacking .... no slipshod work. Or I'll be down on you like a ton of bricks. Got it?" "Yes .... Ma'am ...." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - URL <a href="http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html"><br> Victor Bruno Books</a> Email <a href="mailto:VictorBruno@MsChristine.com"><br> Bruno Book List</a> http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html ------------------------------------------------------ The DOMestic mailing list is free of charge. 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