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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
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o and should not be read by minors. o
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Its a Wonderful Wife (MMMf, reluc, orgy)
by Theodore@Spoonbender.demon.co.uk (Spoonbender)
It's a good wife (MMMM+/f - Draw your own conclusions)
**********************************************************************
(c) 1998 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read
by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage
then don't read. Contains some nc sex and a bit of sexual slavery, but
then again most of my stories do. Can be freely distributed as long as
it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to archived then
please email me first for permission.
Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you
want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content
or you don't like my style (which even I'm not so sure of). My address
is theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk.
*********************************************************
Penny huddled herself tighter into the fur lined parka, as she watched
the unbroken vista of gleaming snow pass beneath the wings of the
small aeroplane. It wasn't as if the cabin was cold, but the mere
thought of the bitter barrenness, that unfolded beneath her
semi-focussed gaze, was enough to stipple goosebumps all over her
body.
If only Matt had been faithful!
Sadly, she audited the wreckage of her life. 25 years old. No family,
very few friends and definitely no children. Her world had revolved
around her lover. Ok, so he wasn't handsome, not in the conventional
sense, nor was he rich and powerful. He wasn't even a particularly
good lover, though her knowledge in this area was previously limited
to a furtive, drunken, coupling with a barely known teenager on her
sixteenth birthday. From what she heard from the girls at work, her
sex life was also fairly dull and conventional. Certainly if their
giggled tales of sexual gymnastics were to be believed.
He wasn't even a man's man. But he made her laugh. He could tease
delighted shrieks of merriment from her even with the most mundane
aspects of their life together. What few friends they did have
couldn't believe how happy they seemed, always laughing and constantly
contriving to touch each other, as if seeking reassurance that their
wonderful, wonderful partner did indeed exist.
Her idyll was shattered when she paid a surprise visit to his office.
And caught him with her......
It was not as though the girl was especially beautiful, in fact the
more Penny dwelt on the subject the uglier she became. Granted she had
a nice body, nicer than Penny's own she acknowledged ruefully, and she
had a cute face. But anyone, certainly any woman, could see that she
was a predator. The big hair, the tight clothes, the short skirt that
somehow, but only just, managed to stay on the right side of the line
between erotic and obscene. The signs were all there to see. She was a
manhunter, a shark, perfectly at ease on the seamier side of the
corporate jungle that she had made her home. And Matt fell for her,
hook, line and sinker. She had carefully snared her prey who would,
Penny knew, just become another pelt on the vixen's bedpost when new
pastures beckoned.
Looking back it was the brutal surprise of it all that caused her to
over react. Weeping, she had stumbled from the office, with the
pitying stares of Matt's colleagues piercing her back like barbed
arrows. She drove for hours trying to piece together the shattered
puzzle of her life. It was as if some malevolent god had noted that
she was becoming too happy, when set in context against the lot of her
fellows, and had decided to crush her spirit in one brutal act.
She took to a room in a mean hotel and only surfaced occasionally to
grab a quick snack before disappearing again to confront her misery.
It was on one of these forays that she decided to pick up a local
paper, to help take her mind off of her loss with the parochial
scribblings of a small town rag.
>From that point on her life executed a series of jumps, like a movie
>slipping from the projector's sprockets. She saw
the job ads. One in particular piqued her attention. It seemed to be
just what she needed. She applied, she was interviewed, she was
accepted. Just like that!
So she stole into her, their, apartment to gather a bagful of clothes.
Matt clearly hadn't been home. This pierced her to the quick and honed
her resolve. Head held high and straight backed she walked out of her
old life and into her new.
Which is why she found herself gazing out at hundreds of miles of
white, frozen, desert as the plane snored deeper into the wastes of
Northern Alaska.
She looked around the small cabin noting, listlessly, the strapped
down boxes of supplies and the three empty seats. The crew had
informed her that this was probably going to be the last flight that
winter, before the weather descended and socked the airfield in tight.
She cuddled deeper and tried to sleep as the arctic sun prescribed its
low, autumn, parabola and slowly disappeared from view.
*********************************************************************
The wash of the propellers threw stinging clouds of snow at her as she
wobbled down the aircraft steps. The bitter cold, felt even through
her fur lined clothing, felt like a million stinging needles on its
way down into her lungs. She was so wrapped up in reaching the
sanctuary of the huddle of buildings, hunkered down and barely visible
in the snow, that she almost failed to notice the small figure that
was being guided out to the aircraft.
The size and build, discerned even through the layers of swaddling,
indicated it was that of a woman. Her predecessor evidently. She
raised a mitten in salute but the girl stumbled blindly towards the
aircraft like it was a talisman held up before her, making her blind
and oblivious to the blandishments of all others.
Penny tried to call out but the bitter wind tore her words to pieces
scattering them, in a million unconnected fragments, over the bleak
wasteland. She was about to turn and shout again but she noticed a
figure, dark against the gleam of the ice, beckoning her furiously
towards the larger of the buildings. So she hurried, as best she could
across the treacherous ground, towards the haven within the lee of the
building.
She hurried over as the wrapped figure beat his hands against the
opposing upper arms, and stamped his feet, in an attempt to stave off
the cold. Once within the wind shadow of the building the incessant,
mournful, howl of the wind dropped enough for her to recognise the man
shouting.
"Hurry up. This is no place to be out playing in the snow." The wind
robbed her of the sentiment in the voice but she agreed with the
spirit and virtually sprinted the last few yards.
As the air trap closed behind her she heard the roar of the aircraft
engines as it tore into the night sky.
The man pulled off a mitten, once they were safely inside, and held
out his hand. Penny reciprocated.
"Hi I'm Bernard DeVille and I'm the site manager, but most people call
me bud or buddy."
"Penny White. Pleased to meet you er Bud."
He smiled. It was not a beautiful smile, but it made a homely
counterpoint to the raw loneliness that she had been with for the past
few hours.
"Come in, come in. Let me show you round your new home." He beckoned.
"Here make yourself comfortable, take that heavy coat off. We keep
this place pretty warm as you will soon find out and you'll be
sweating in no time if you keep that thing on."
Penny had already noted the almost sub-tropical heat of the place.
Still they didn't have a heating bill problem as they made Gas here,
or dug it up or whatever they did. She had been told, but the details
escaped her.
She shucked off her coat and the heavy, Arran sweater and stood clad
in her checked lumberjack shirt and bluejeans - the standard company
issue. She felt a mild twinge of unease as she noticed the site
manager appraising her but decided to suppress it, female company was
probably pretty scarce around here.
He indicated a chair. "Please. Sit down. Coffee?"
"Love one."
"Sugar, cream?"
"Just cream thanks."
While he went to get their coffees she looked around. This building
was obviously the mess hall where the crewmen ate and where she'd be
working. It was plain, functional and utilitarian. Consisting of a
serried row of battered tables and a liberal scattering of chairs. She
could see the small kitchen area behind the counter where she was to
prepare the meals for the crew.
He came back, placed the coffee on the table, swung a chair round and
sat facing her. His unwavering gaze and rigid posture again unnerved
her, so she sought to relieve the tension by asking. "Where are my
bags?"
"Oh they've been unloaded, they'll be ok." He waved airily in the
direction of the departed plane. He stared at her for a few seconds
more but then seemed to notice her discomfiture and enquired. "What'd
they say you'd be doing then?"
"Who?"
"The weenies who interviewed you. What'd they say you'd be doing?"
"Cooking and stuff for the crew here, on the rig."
"Stuff! What stuff?"
"You know washing pans and stuff I guess. Kitchen stuff."
"Nothing else?"
She shook her head slowly, puzzled and mildly alarmed at his tone.
He appeared to change the subject. "Do you know what we call the job?"
"No, what?"
"The subi-wife. Short for substitute wife I guess."
"Wife?"
"Yeah wife! You'll be doing all the things a wife would do. ALL the
things." He leered suggestively.
"What things."
He laughed, a short bark. "They didn't recruit you on the basis of
your towering intellect did they? What the hell do you think I mean?"
"Cooking, cleaning, maybe a little sewing." She suggested, hopefully.
"And?"
"And what?"
He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Fuck girl you're
dense. What else do wives do, besides cook, clean and vacuum the
carpets?"
Now she could feel her heartbeat change up a notch. Her mouth was dry
and her tongue felt so dry it was like a stick in her mouth. She had
to sip the coffee before asking. "You don't mean...?"
"Give the girl a flower." He clapped his hands slowly. "Yep good old
fashioned fucking, just the thing to ease away the cares and woes of a
working day."
"I can't do that!" She exclaimed, shocked.
He shrugged, indicating his Gallic roots, "I don't see you got much
choice honey. You are over a thousand miles from anything remotely
like civilisation and there ain't any many taxis round here."
Penny could feel a tear trickling down her cheek as she tried to come
to terms with the stark reality of her situation.
"We got a rota." He continued. "After all we don't want you to tucker
yourself out now do we? If we do we won't get fed. Wanna hear about
it?"
She stared at him in disbelief. It appeared they had it all planned.
Now she thought she understood the single minded eagerness of her
predecessor to get away.
Again he shrugged as she failed to answer. "Ok I'll tell you anyway.
There's thirty guys work this rig. Now we reckon that it ain't fair
for a guy to go without his oats for more'n a week or so at a time. It
ain't healthy like."
He looked at her but she just stared, ignoring his mild witticism as
the horror unfolded before her.
"Sooo we think that you should do your wifely duties with three guys
every working day. I'll spell it out for you in case you're as dumb as
you make out, you will fuck three guys a night, five nights a week.
Got that so far?"
She stared.
"I said you get that? Come on you can't be that dumb!"
She nodded tearfully.
"Good. Now it ain't too bad, just a straight fuck, no fancy stuff. Be
all over in less'n an hour. See, easy! That's during the week.
Weekends they're a bit different. You see we run an incentive scheme
when we choose the worker of the week. Used to give'm more money, but
they ain't got nowhere to spend it so we came up with another reward.
Wanna know what that is?"
Penny had a feeling she already knew, but kept her counsel.
"Its you honey. The worker of the week gets to spend the whole of
Saturday night with you. To spice it up a bit, and to encourage the
guys to pitch in and work, we let them do what they want with you.
'Cept mark you up. Nothing permanent, that would take away the
pleasure from the other guys, other than that anything goes. Gonna
extend your education honey. You gonna see how the other half live.
Now ain't that exciting?"
He laughed. She looked miserably at him. This can't be happening. This
was so awful.
"Course you gonna be tired so we give you Sunday off. Now ain't that
thoughtful?"
"You.... You said they could do anything! What do you mean?"
He cocked his head on one side, stared at the ceiling - as if in
thought - then ticked the items off his fingers. "Lets see. We've had
straight fucking. Gang bangs, they're kinda fun days they are. A bit
of bondage. Dressing up. Hell you know honey, you've been around."
"What would happen if I refused?"
He sat upright and stared, hard, at her, then poked his finger towards
her face. "Now we take kind of a dim view of that sort of thing. So we
get all riled up, if you know what I mean. You wouldn't like it,
believe me. We had it happen a coupla times before and we had to do
things like cane the bitch or even tie her to the bed and gangbang the
fuck out of her. I don't think you'd like that honey, so I suggest you
don't get us mad. Thirty horny guys, all fired up and outta control,
take a lot of fucking 'fore they'd settle down again. Take my advice,
the easy option is to do as you're told. You getting all this?"
Now the tears were pouring in a constant stream down her face. She
bent her head and stared at her hands which were knotted tight in her
lap.
He took it as an affirmation. "Right I 'spose you wanta get started.
All eager on the first day of a new job and all. So howsabout if you
just get outa that constricting clothing. Give yourself a bit of
freedom to work, like?"
His jocular tone belied the terror of the words and, at first, she
failed to grasp what he was suggesting. Slowly it began to sink in and
she looked up at him, eyes pools of unshed tears and mouth downturned
at the corners.
"Please don't"
"Don't start fucking crying." He said harshly. "Or I'll get fucking
mad and you definitely won't like that. So get your duds off like
you've been told."
The air was electric with the crackling energy of their wills fighting
furiously over her honour. Then she began to yield. The set of the
shoulders, the hang of her head, her tentative fingers stealing up
towards the top button on her shirt. They all told the same
tale.................
Slowly, weepingly, she started to unbutton the buttons on her shirt.
Her fingers felt like chunky sausages as she fumbled with the smooth
plastic.
As she neared half way, and just when her snow white bra was beginning
to hove into view, he barked. "Stand up - He raised both palms up and
raised his arms - go on, up, up. That's it. Good. Right carry on."
He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow on table, as he
watched her resume her humiliating strip. As she finished unbuttoning
the shirt, she hesitated, as if awaiting instructions. Noisily he
pushed the chair back, clattering it to the floor. She looked up as he
stormed into an adjacent room. He came back, face like thunder, and
laid a thin, whippy rod on the table. His motives were plain, if she
didn't strip she'd soon be feeling that across her downy asscheeks.
And she didn't think he'd be gentle with her.
She'd end up doing it anyway. Her only option was plain. She stripped.
He watched, occasionally licking his lips as he surveyed the ever
increasing expanse of smooth, taught, flesh. She was ripe! This one
was going to be fun, fun, fun. So reticent, so naïve, With a body like
that. And terrified of the cane. This was shaping up to be a good
year.
Finally she stood before him, naked and ashamed. Hands grasped tightly
before her crotch.
"Take your hands away."
"I said, take your hands away. Put 'em on your head."
He smashed the cane down hard, flat on the table. The harsh crack
making her jump.
"I said take your fucking hands away......Right! That's better. Put
'em on you head. That's right, mesh your fingers together. Good.
Straddle you legs slightly, come on. Do you want me to use this cane?
No? Well, do it then. Good. Now look at me. Come on, look straight at
me. Come on. Right! Now listen..."
She stood naked. Legs parted, hands clasped firmly on her head, face
beet red with humiliation. She looked as pretty as a picture.
".....That's how you're gonna be from now on - she went to mutter but
he held up his hand - shut up. Good. Now its only fair that you give
the guys the eyeful. It reminds them that their turn is coming up
soon, maybe even tonight. Anyway we've all got an interest in that
pretty little pussy, so we like to keep an eye on it. So you'd better
get used to being butt naked, 'cause that's how you're gonna be for a
while honey. Listen, don't worry about getting splashes on you when
you cooking, we got a nice apron for you to wear. A clear, plastic,
one of course, wouldn't want the guys to miss out on saying hi to the
pussy. You getting all this?"
He paused for an answer.
"Ok, suit yourself, you'll learn this soon enough anyway. Ok, so, as
I'm in charge of the site, it is my job to conduct in service
training..."
He placed his hand on her back and propelled her, haltingly, towards
the bedroom.
End