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Subject: {ASSM} The Governor's Wife - Part Seventeen
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Warning: This story is about non-consensual domination. It is
fiction, but it is erotic - despite or perhaps partly because it
is non-consensual.
Copyright: Victor Bruno.
http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html
The Governor's Wife
by Victor Bruno
Part Seventeen
"Suppose I refuse to go back again," said Frank with
sudden boldness.
"You won't" said the Governor almost wearily. "In the
first place, I'd see you get beaten near to a pulp in
one of the cells here. In the second place, she'd rig up
a rape charge against you and I'd have to go through
with it. You'd get another twenty years. Maybe more.
Very serious offence rape. Especially on the Governor's
wife. In some states they give you the Chair. So.... you
see how it is, Frank. You'll go back."
Frank was startled by the use of his Christian name. It
showed a glimpse of understanding and sympathy.
"My God," he said almost to himself, "she's promised me
an even bigger thrashing next time."
"You've got to toughen up, Frank," said the Governor.
"It's not going on for ever. She'll get tired of you
soon. Want some other poor bastard over there. I tell
you again, the first few times are always the worst.
Once you're through that barrier, you'll be able to take
it better."
"I .... I hope so, Sir," mumbled Frank miserably. The
future looked bleak indeed. Hettie Page was obviously
inescapable.
"You'll keep your mouth shut about this, of course. One
peep out of you elsewhere and that rape charge is a
certainty ...."
"I'll say nothing," Sir, answered Frank almost sullenly.
"O.K. then, 808, you'd better get back on duty," said
the Governor more formally as he opened the door with
his key. The interview was over .... and nothing had
been accomplished.
Yet, as he went down the corridor, Frank felt a certain
sense of relief. Almost as if he had been to a
confessional. A trouble shared was a trouble halved, so
they said. Well, maybe there was something in that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Three days later, just when his soreness seemed finally
to have gone, the summons came.
"808, you're required for domestic duties over at the
Governor's residence," said the guard. "You're to follow
me right away."
Frank felt his stomach seeming to drop into his boots.
It must have been the same kind of sensation a man got
when they came for him in Death Row. Still, at least I'm
not going to the Chair, he said to himself as he
followed the guard out. And, as the Governor had said,
it couldn't go on for ever. Perhaps she'd get tired of
him quite soon. Then Frank thought of that swishy
cane.... and what his Mistress had promised him.
He shivered.
As usual, Hettie Page opened the door herself. Frank's
eyes focused on her in fascinated dread. This was the
woman who was going to make the coming hours a living
Hell for him. Yet she had a winsome, welcoming smile on
her fulsome lips.
"Come in, Frank," she said sweetly and, at the same
time, gave the guard a dismissive nod. "I shall need him
till late. Don't come over until I ring the gaol."
"Very good, Ma'am."
The guard turned and was gone. There was the sound of
the door being closed and locked. Frank's heart began to
thump; the sickness of dread began to rise again. Then
Hettie brushed past him and stood, hands on hips, still
smiling at him.
Frank saw another plunging V-neckline, which showed
almost half of the breasts and revealed a deep cleavage
line. The blouse was made of some shiny black material.
The skirt below was scarlet and of scarcely more than
mini-length. Below that were long bare thighs .... and a
pair of black, lace up boots of calf length; the heels
high and slim, the toes pointed.
"I've got a little surprise for you this morning,
Frank," said Hettie. "It's upstairs. But first we'll go
into the living room."
Frank followed the seductively swinging hindquarters,
under the short red skirt, unable to check the instant
surge of lust within himself. My God, he thought, it
might be worth raping this woman, even if it did mean
life. After all, you might as well get that for real,
rather than on a trumped up charge. Then he managed to
get a grip on himself. It was madness to think like that
right at the beginning of the day. He had to learn
control. She had said so. And she had told him what she
would do if he didn't.
"Right, Frank, drop your pants ...."
Hands still on hips; the command so easy and natural. As
if it were her divine right to treat him so. The
humiliation of it seared through Frank.
"In fact, Frank, you might as well take everything off.
I think I'll keep you bollock naked all day long. Fold
everything neatly and place it on that chair."
URL <a href="http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html">Bruno
Books</a> Email <a
href="mailto:VictorBruno@MsChristine.com">Bruno List</a>
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