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Message-ID: <34124asstr$1008627009@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "StarScribe" <StarMan@treflor.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 10:25:58 EST
Subject: {ASSM} RP:  Taming of the Shrew part 1 (M/f, BDSM, rape, nc, toys, anal, wife)
Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 17:10:09 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This story is mine.  I own the copyright.  If you want to make it publicly
available by ANY means, you must contact me for permission first.  I'll
probably let you, without any charge, even if you want to charge for it.
You just ave to ask first.

(C) 2001, all rights reserved.

First, the disclaimer that I know you won't read.
This is a work of fiction.  If you don't know what that first sentence
means, don't read this story.
This is a work of an adult nature.  If you don't know what that means, don't
read this story.  Similarly, if "adult" material offends you, or is illegal
where you live, don't read this story.

Let me say that again, this is a work of an adult nature.  If you have kids
in your home, you should know that they can read this as easily as you can.
You should have *something* on your computer that prevents them from reading
anything that resembles this story.

This story contains graphic depictions of non-consenual sex.  If fictional
stories of this nature bother you, don't read this story.  Similarly, anyone
who would engage in actual non-consensual sex should be promptly thrown in
jail.

With that said, on with the story.

***

Life has been pretty good to me in most respects.  I've started and ran
numerous businesses, and they have made me fairly wealthy.  I've already
sent my oldest two children off to Yale (the oldest) and Harvard (the
middle), and in two weeks, I'd be sending my youngest child to Stamford.  I
simply couldn't wait.

Everything was ready.  I was sitting in the chair I had just had delivered.
It was huge, looked like something out of the gothic era, and weighed close
to three hundred pounds.  Can you just imagine a chair that heavy?  I could,
so I had it specially made.  Complete with a motor and retractable wheels,
and a programmable remote that would allow me to move it about.

You see, I had been planning this for the last six years.  Indeed, for the
last two years it had occupied 100% of my time.  My businesses run
themselves now, so I no longer have to work.  I do what I want.

So, I've been planning.

You see, the only thing that has kept my life from being perfect, is my
wife.  She and I had a bit of a fling a good many years ago, and she got
pregnant.  I married her, and for some years the sex was pretty good.  We
struggled financially then, but in many ways I think I was happier overall
back then than I am now.  You see, the more successful I became, the more my
wife expected from me, and the less she thought she needed to give back ...
this includes "giving back" in the bedroom.  Over the last eight or so
years,
sex between us has dwindled down to less than once a month at the same time
her weight has ballooned past 200 pounds.

Of course it would be easy for me to take a mistress, indeed, I have,
but I've given my wife far too much in the way of time, money, and effort to
end up simply divorsed.

I came to realize that the only thing to do was to train her.  The problem
was, kids take up too much time, and my kids come first.

So I've waited, I've planned, and I've prepared.

Last year my new house was completed, and we moved in.

That house has a 3000 square foot basement that is fully sound-proof and
accessable from only one hidden door in my office.  There is only three
other people on the planet that know about it ... and in many ways they are
my co-conspirators.

Patrice, my drop-dead gorgeous financial planner ... and a Dominatrix,
helped me to pick out the "training devices" as well as training me on their
use.

Alexis, my slightly pudgy banker, is a submissive by nature ... and about
the smartest person I've ever met in my life.

Finally, there is Tracy.  While Tracy may not be as gorgeous as Patrice (nor
as skilled in BDSM), or as smart as Alexis, she is also devious, crafty, and
totally and absolutely loyal to me.  She is the one that architected the
house, oversaw its construction, and completed the details on the door to
the basement (making it absolutely undetectable), the cameras, the
electrical system, computer hookups, and a number of other things dealing
with the entire basement setup that I simply could not trust to anyone else.

As the time past, I felt my excitement growing at the same time I could see
my wife growing more desperate.  Her last child was leaving the nest.

The day my daughter left was *miserable*.  For me, for her, and for my
daughter.  However, just past 1pm, she was finally in the new Jeep I had
bought her, and driving down the road.

With tender arms I led my wife back into our home.

I lead her to my ofice, sat her on the chair, then went to get her some
tissue.

"You need to get your mind off this," I said gently.  "Why don't you take
your clothes off and I'll see what  can do."

"Oh Mark!  How I can't even think of sex at a time like this.  What would
make you think I'm in the mood anyway."

I looked at her, a smile slowly spreading across my face.  "Ok, lets try it
this way.  Erica, take your clothes off.  Now."

My voice was gentle, but the command was there nonetheless.  Her reaction
was *exactly* what I knew it would be.

"No Mark!"

She then tried to stand up.

It was the first time I had ever hit my wife.  I smacked her so hard she
fell into the chair, and very nearly rolled right out of it the force of the
blow was so hard.

I grabbed one of her arms, shoved it onto the arm, and hit the remote that
was sitting on my desk. Two restraints, one on her wrist and another at her
forearm, slapped into place.

"Mark!  What are--"

This time I hit her so hard I knocked her out ... of course I punched her,
but with her arm restrained, I wasn't worried.

I quickly restrained her other arm, then her legs.

I picked up the remote, walked over to the hidden door, and activated the
opening.  The door slid up and revealed the small elevator down.  A few
twists of two nobs, and a little work with the joystick, and the Chair was
inside the elevator and we were heading down to what I was calling "The
Palace."

The elevator came to a door that required knowing the electronic combination
of ten numbers as well as a voice password ... that performed a voice
pattern match.

Getting out of "The Palace" required more than that.

The steel door slid open and I guided my new slave into what would be her
new home for quite some time.

The door slid closed shortly after I had the chair situated where I wanted
it.

The Palace was a huge three thousand squarefoot open space that was
partitioned off using bars I got from a company that makes jails and
prisons.  There were several "rooms", the largest of which I had just
wheeled her into.  I closed the second door, and smiled when I saw the sound
of the lock causing her to wake up.

She was dazed as she came to, which was good.  It gave her a moment to look
around before she could speak.

"Mark," she said, the fear in her voice so thick I could almost cut it.
"Where are we, what's going on?"

"I am going to speak, and you are going to stay silent.  If you say anything
that does not comply exactly with any instruction I give you, you'll be
punished--"

"What are you--"

I touched one of the buttons on the remote, and a small electrical shock
went through the chair.

"Stay silent."

"But Mark--"

I turned up the nob, and hit the button again.  This shock was strong enough
to make her scream.

"Stay silent."

I waited, to make sure she got the idea.  My wife never was very bright, but
even she learned sooner or later.

"You are now my slave.  You have no choice in this matter, or in any other.
If you understand what I just said, nod your head up and down."

"Mark, what are you talking about?"  Her voice was now a mixture of fear,
confusion, and even anger.

I sighed and pushed the button again.

"GODDAMN IT, STOP THAT" she screamed.

I turned up the nob a little higher and hit the button again ... this time,
I
kept it pressed down for a good five seconds.

"What part of stay silent and follow my directions are you not
understanding.  Stay. Silent.  If you understand those two simple words, nod
your head up and down."

She nodded.  I was curious how long her silence would last.

"Ok, once again.  You are my slave.  You have no choice about this.  You
have no choices in anything.  Nod your head up and down if you understand
what I just said."

My wife looked at me, unsure of what to do.  I could see the wheels spinning
in her head.  She truly did not want to acknowledge what I had just said.

"Allow me to illustrate how little choice you have."

I turned down the strength of the electrical shock, then pushed the button.

I held it for over twenty seconds with my wife screaming much of it.

"You are my slave.  You have no choice about this.  You have no choices in
anything.  Nod your head up and down if you understand what I just said."

That last shock got her attention, and she nodded.

"Good.  Now, the rules.  You are *never* permitted to speak unless I allow
it.  This is rule 1.  Nod your head up and down if you understand."

I'm not sure if it was abject fear, or the rather long electrical shock, but
her nodding head seemed to shake a bit.

"Rule 2.  When I permit you to speak, your sentence will start and end with
Master.  Nod your head up and down if you understand rule two."

Another nod.

"Good.  What's rule 1?"

"Mark, what the hell are you doing-- AAAIIIIIEEEEE"

This time, I held the button for over a minute, and I was glad I installed
the sound-proofing I did.  Even in the large open room, there wasn't a
single echo.

"What's rule 1?"

"I am to speak--"

This time I shocked her only for a few seconds.

"Rule 2..  When I permit you to speak, your sentence will start and end with
Master.  Nod your head up and down if you understand rule two."

She clenched her teeth and nodded.

"What's rule 1?"

"Master, I will never speak unless you allow me."

"Very good."

"Now, let me lay some ground work.  You are a slave.  I've said this
already, but it deserves repeating.  You are my property, and now exist ONLY
for my pleasure, and at my whim.  You no longer have your own identity any
more than that chair you sit on.  You will never again address yourself as
I.  Instead, if you need to address yourself, it will be as This slave, or
your property.  You will address yourself ONLY in the third person, and ONLY
as a slave or as my property  That is also a part of rule 2.  Nod if you
understand."

She nodded, but I doubted she actually understood.

"What's rule 1?"

"Master, I will never speak unless you allow me."

I shook my head and shocked her for a few seconds.  "You will address
yourself ONLY in the third person, and ONLY as a slave or as my property.
Nod if you understand."

She nodded, the realization of what I meant seemingly sinking in from the
look on her fat face.

"What's rule 2?"

She took a deep breath.  "Master, your slave will never speak unless
permitted to Master."

"You're getting it," I said with a smile.

I walked over to the long chest of draws, and stuck my thumb on one of the
readers.  It read my print and the long drawer slid open.  I pulled out a
rubber ball gag, closed the drawer, then and showed it to her.

"This is a ball gag.  Open your mouth so I can put it on you."

It looked like she thought about disobeying, then changed her mind and
opened her mouth.  I slipped it into her mouth, then fastened the buckles
around her head.

"Rule 3.  If I put a gag on you, you do not, under any circumstances take it
off.  Even if I tell you to take it off, you still don't do it.  I am the
only one, ever, who is permitted to remove a gag.  Nod if you understand."

She nodded, and I continued.  "Last but not least, you do what I say, when I
say, without hesitation, without asking questions.  Nod if you understand."

I could see the look in her eyes.  I had just given her a set of rules with
a paradox.  However, not being entirely stupid, she did nod.

I then went to another drawer, applied my thumb to the reader, and when it
opened, pulled out a pair of "trauma sissors."  These are the sissors used
by trauma nurses to remove clothing from patients.  They'll cut
through almost anything.

I closed the drawer, then walked over to my new slave, and proceeded to cut
her clothing off.  When all was said and done, the only thing "on her" was
the pieces of her shirt and pants against the back of the chair.

"Ok, in a couple of seconds I am going to release your restraints.  You are
not to move from the chair.  You are not to move your arms, your legs, or
even your toes.  You will sit where you are without moving.  Nod your head
if you understand."

She nodded, but I could see it in her eyes so clearly I almost laughed.  I
hit the button, and the restraints popped open.

She leaped from the chair at me, fists swinging.

Unfortunately, she not only fights like a girl, she's out of shape.  I had
her pinned to the floor in seconds.

With her arm twisted painfully behind her back and a fistfull of her hair in
my hand, I lead her through The Palace to a "room" in the back corner.  This
"room" was one of the few with a door.  I pulled it closed behind us with my
foot, and felt her jump when the lock slid closed.

There I had numerous toys and torture devices of all sorts along with a
steel frame X with numerous locations for restraining someone, a wooden
table similarly equipped with ways to restrain someone, one section of the
wall had eyebolts for restraints, I had a winch on the cieling, and the list
goes on and on.

I lead her to the wall and told her to grab two pairs of metal cuffs.  When
she didn't do exactly as I asked, I pushed her arm a little farther up her
back, making her whimper.  That got her attention and she did as she was
told.

Next, I lead her so that she was standing facing the table, and told her
with her free hand she was to cuff her ankles to the legs of the table.
Once she completed that task, I told her to bend over and lay face down with
her arms dangling.  I let her go, and instead of doing what I told her, she
instantly bent down and tried to lift the table.

Stupid, like I wouldn't have it secured to the floor.  I grabbed a riding
crop from the wall, and began whipping her back with it.  She was down and
on the table as I instructed by the third blow.

"Now stay there and don't move," I instructed in a tone of voice that let
her know my patience was running thin.

I grabbed two pairs of lether restraints with long leather tethers attached.
These I attached to her wrists, then tied the ends to the opposite legs of
the table.

Finally, I picked up the riding crop and began walking around her.

"My instructions were clear.  Yet you disobeyed.  You're like a dog that
needs to be taught a lesson.

I put the end of the crop on her ass, and moved it in a circular motion for
a moment, then smacked that spot hard.  I did the same for the other cheek.
I kept doing this, lightly rubbing a spot, then smacking it.  By the third
or fourth blow, I could feel the anticipation of the blow everytime I
lightly touched.  That part of her body would tense up, just as I raised the
crop.  Of course she was crying like an infant.

"You exist only for my pleasure and at my whim," I said as I punished her.
"You are my slave.  You do what I say, when I say, without hesitation.  You
do not think.  You do not resist, you have NO CHOICES.  You are mine.  My
property.  My slave.  You own nothing, you have nothing, you are nothing.
There is only me."

By about the thirtieth blow, I had her back and ass marked up pretty good.

I undid my pants and let them slide to the floor.  Punishing her had brought
me to one hell of a hard-on, and it was time to do something about it.  I
walked up behind her, guided my cock to her ass, and started to push in.

Again, I got exactly what I expected.  She tensed her ass up.  So I backed
up.

"What part of you are mine is confusing to you?"

Then the blows started in earnest.  I rained blows down on her ass and upper
thighs as quickly as my arm would allow and until it grew tired.  For much
of
the time, she fought as much as her restraints would allow, which wasn't
much.  By the time I stopped, she was heavily welted and bleeding profusely,
had ceased her fighting, and was laying limply against the table.

"Lets try this again shall we," I said as I again approached her fully
reddened and bleeding ass cheeks.

This time, the only resistance my dick met was her dry hole, and that sure
as hell wasn't going to stop me.  I knew fucking her ass dry would hurt like
hell, but that was partially the point.

I slowly pushed into her, not wanting to tear the inner lining and cause an
infection, then slowly pulled back out.  Nice and easy I kept doing this.

"You are mine," I said again as I fucked her dry ass.  "You belong to me and
exist only for my pleasure and at my whim."

After several minutes, I reachd up and undid the ball gag as I continued
fucking her.

"Tell me you enjoy my ass fucking."

She hesitated, so I picked up the riding crop and began smacking her back.

"IENJOYYOURASSFUCKING," she said quickly thinking it would get me to stop.

Instead I had to hit her harder.  "Rule 2!"

"Master!  I enjoy your assfucking Master!"

Yes, I know she didn't say that completely right, but it was only her first
day.

Hell, it was only her first few minutes.

I pulled out of her, and grabbed some anal lube from from a shlf on the
wall.  I greased up her ass and my rod, then plunged back in.  This time, I
was fucking her with hard, fast strokes.  Her fat flabby ass and hipps
jiggling like jello.

I can honestly say, that I hadn't cum like I did that day in over ten years.

But they would only get better.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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