Chapter 5
Serena was the first to the dinner table that evening. She was wearing a lavender, silk jump suit which displayed her feminine charms to the utmost.
Her hair was free, and rippled in natural, shining waves down her back. She was wearing her most expensive and seductive perfume.
Round one had begun in the training of her husband. Marie was equally seductive, and as Serena observed her, as they sat in the living room, sipping before-dinner cocktails, she wondered just what made Marie tick.
Serena wanted Marie in the worst way, and she wanted her husband, too. But then, hadn't she decided to have her cake and eat it, too?
She smiled at Marie, and her eyes caressed the silky, full curves of the French Governess's body, as she became aware of how lovely her own was.
It was a nice feeling, being aware of your own body, especially if you approved of it. Serena definitely approved of hers. She couldn't wait for her husband to come downstairs. And because Serena had fallen in love with her own body, she could afford to wish everyone else well, and appreciate the curves and contours of their bodies, instead of being jealous of them, or seeking to find fault.
That's the way it had been with Serena, before she let herself go, and now that she was back to her old physical glory, she was enjoying the feminine charm of Marie.
They proceeded to the dinner table before James arrived, as he was late.
James was late because he was taking extra care of his attire these days. And he certainly had good reason!
Serena had plenty of time to observe the effects of the wealth of feminine beauty. As James Sr. came to the table, his cock jumped to stiff attention. There at his board, were two of the loveliest women he had ever seen.
If Serena had wondered why James's business trips had dwindled in number and frequency, James knew damned well why! This gorgeous creature who was his wife, was driving him crazy. Initially, he had been attracted to her brazenness, the slight hint of something sexually perverse about her.
James was no coward. He had built an empire out of nothing, and he stopped at nothing to make it work, and to maintain it. But James was a bit of a prig with regard to sex. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of his wife, but she settled in so easily to being square, when what James wanted was a wild, crazy fling, and she became so dowdy so fast, due to the children. But this woman before her, this vision of mist and fire, was incredibly attractive to James.
He regretted having followed convention so long. He regretted all the proper decisions he had made that left him out in the cold, and caused him to resort to occasional flings in the hay with other women. He knew Serena hadn't liked the idea of separate bedrooms.
And he knew he shouldn't have demanded that she conform so much to the ways of the family. But there it was, and now, that conforming, very bored and often boring woman, had become dynamite, virtually under his nose. The problem was, she was carrying the game too far.
James suspected, when he knocked on her door, which he now did every night, that she was getting even for her years of bondage. And his anger was growing by leaps and bounds. He was so enamored of his wife now that he couldn't even get it up with another woman, desiring her so intensely that he had a perpetual hard-on.
Tonight he had more reason than usual to be angry. It wasn't a fact he could prove; it was a suspicion he had, as he watched the growing intimacy between the two lovely women, the easy way they had with each other, the expression on their faces as they looked at each other.
His wife? Well, it would be more in keeping with the hellion he had married! And the way his man, Marvin, was looking at her lately! That was another puzzlement. Had she...? No! That would be unspeakable.
But why? thought James, as he took his place at the head of the immaculately appointed table. At least she had been discreet, if she had, err ... And God knows, James was no paradigm of faithfulness. He smiled grimly to himself as Marvin poured the wine, the candlelight picking up the amber glow and warming it.
How beautiful some of the smallest things were, thought James, looking at the way his wife's red hair picked up the candlelight, and threw it back, shaming their glow. The way the candles reflected in her deep, suddenly alive and glowing brown eyes. He watched the chubby curl of Leticia's hand around the stem of her glass, filled with a lot of water, and a wee bit of wine, watched the moist young gleam of her skin, and the way she looked up suddenly, sensitive to his gaze, and smiled at him.
James really loved his home. He had absented himself from it for a long time to build his business, to build security. At least that is what he had always thought. But James was beginning to doubt his own motives.
He had more than enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of his life. And he had more than enough power, unless he wanted to be a dictator, which didn't particularly appeal to him.
Suddenly, he started.
"Where's James Jr.?"
Serena looked up at him, a twinkle in her eye. James noticed that even Marie's and Leticia's lips were twitching.
"He's under room arrest, darling. He may come down to dinner if he brings his pass."
"His pass?"
"Oui, Monsieur," giggled Marie. "His pass is a three-hundred word composition on why he shouldn't throw peas at his sister and say no to his mother."
James raised his eyebrows. Another new development. Serena taking an active interest in the rearing of her children. Well, will wonders never cease! He suddenly looked at Leticia. Somebody was teaching her decent table manners. She was using her fork and spoon properly, and she wasn't paddling in the finger bowl, nor playing with the food.
"Ohhh!" gasped Serena slightly.
"Anything wrong, darling?"
"No, dear, just a little charley horse. I was swimming all afternoon." Charley horse, my foot, thought Serena avoiding looking at Marie, whose hand had reached under the table cloth, and pinched a piece of her pubic hair!
Marie was cooing in French to Leticia, who was answering her very prettily. Serena joined in, her French a little more awkward, since she had not spoken it for years, nor ever properly studied it, until she started helping her children with their lessons.
James appeared in the doorway, a grim picture of childish wrath. Serena shook her head, wondering, as she often did, at his similarity to his father. James Jr. marched straight up to his adoring father. "Father?"
"Yes, son?" said James, smiling up at his own youth, reflected in the face and body of his progeny.
James Jr. pointed with the aplomb of a lawyer down the expanse of table to his gorgeous mother. "She spanked me."
"Oh?" husked James Sr., wondering whether to laugh or play it through to the end. He had never really regarded his children as real persons, treating them rather as toys, or pets. He decided on the latter course, especially since life in this house had become so interesting lately. Heaven only knew what would develop now. He had a feeling that Serena was absolutely right about slapping the child. But he didn't want to place too onerous a burden of guilt on James Jr. He didn't want the boy to think that the adults were ganging up on him.
"Yes, Dad, she did. And then she made me write a composition."
"No, I didn't make you write a composition. I merely suggested that, if you wished to eat dinner, it would be wise of you to explain yourself in so many words. And those so many words were three hundred to be exact." Serena was gazing with a warm firmness mixed with amusement at her stubborn son. She couldn't be too hard on the boy. She knew he came by his traits honestly, and that she and James had spared the rod for too long to come down heavily now.
"Do you have them?" Serena asked of her son.
James marched stiff-legged, down to the end of the table and thrust out his hand. In it were seven lined pages filled on both sides with script. Serena, so like a queen that James Sr.'s hard-on twitched again in his pants, extended her hand to receive her tribute. She smiled at her son, and asked him to sit down.
James sat. And sat. There was silence for awhile around the table, not a tense, bored silence which was so familiar to all of them but the warm, intense silence of excitement and anticipation.
"Well...?" questioned James Sr. of his son. "You had a complaint?"
James Jr. twitched in his seat, and fiddled with his napkin. He was rolling it into a ball, and then unwinding it.
"James," said Serena, "your napkin belongs in your lap. If you wish to play with some cloth, to experiment with shape and form, I shall be happy to supply you with some-after supper."
James unfolded the wrinkled napkin, and placed it in his lap. Serena had taken the composition James had written, and placed it neatly by her dinner plate.
"Aren't you going to read it?" James Jr. asked.
"After supper, when I have time to concentrate on it."
"Oh...." said James Jr., thoroughly at a loss for words. And he had decided, as he handed the composition to his mother, that he really didn't want to arouse the powers-that-be, by detailing his grievances to his father. James Jr. was too smart not to know that the spanking he had received was well-earned.
He was still enjoying the tingling sensation in his ass, occasionally twitching against the seat hard, to stimulate the pleasure sensations, which had given his little boy cock a mild erection. He wondered that his mother didn't land on him for the twitching.
He wouldn't know, until years later, how much his mother understood, and sympathized!
The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. Serena was pleased with her afternoon with Marie, and the anticipation of more to come. She was also pleased with the large bulge in her husband's pants, and the way he twitched and kept rising and moving around the room.
There was a new dimension to his restiveness this evening, however, and Serena couldn't quite place her finger on it. But he certainly wasn't mooning over her like a love-sick boy. He was actively desiring her. Serena's pussy, bare against the silk of the jump suit, twitched. Maybe if she drove him sufficiently to distraction ...!
She couldn't believe that a man would consistently prefer a missionary position, consistently come just before the woman, and consistently mutter the same old sweet shit in her ears as he was coming.
Serena certainly appreciated gentleness, and probably more than most women, given her sexual predilections for violence. But all the time? No, she loved a few obscenities husked into her ears, a rough hand bruising her soft white skin. A jolt or two, to remind her that she was small, and female, and helpless before the strength of a man.
She needed to know she was loved and desired, as surely as she needed to know she was needed, useful. And a bland performance with no great heights of passion was not her idea of an ideal marriage. That was the one thing that should keep the marriage going over all the rocks that were inevitable, given that there were two people, a husband and a wife, who were supposed to strive to achieve the impossible dictum, "And the two shall become one."
The closest you could come to achieving that stupidity was in sex, when all the boundaries that closed you in were lost in the giving and the getting, in the offering and the demanding. When the great I became we in passion and togetherness. Serena felt faint with desire.
She really did love this man, and the love had grown over their years together, almost unbeknownst to her. And she wanted him, as she had never wanted him before in her life-without the good family name, and all the superficial accoutrements of their fine life together-just him, the raw, naked, stubborn, striving, family-loving man. The man, who like her had grown up with a lot of preconceived notions that it takes a lot of hard work to get rid of.
Well, maybe she had been selfish. She was so eager to please, and to gain approval, that she had never voiced some of her desires to him.
And the way she had minced around, trying to imitate "high class" manners.
There's only one way for a man to behave in bed, and that's like a stud. And there's only one way for a woman to satisfy a stud-and that's to be a whore of the most abandoned sort. She had tried too hard to be a lady, even between the sheets, and he had never lost the veneer of being a gentleman.
That didn't make for togetherness!
Serena was extra lonely as she sought her bed that night, locking the door adjoining their rooms carefully. She had a feeling if she just gave in to him that it would be a dud, as many of their sexual sessions were. She wasn't going to put out easily. Let him fight for it. If he got desperate enough, maybe he would break out of his shell, and it would happen for both of them.
Her thinking was basically accurate. James was pacing the floor to his bedroom. His passion had become inflamed to a wild pitch by the lovely woman who was his wife, wafting around and leaving behind that gorgeous scent. And his passion was exacerbated by the two women who were so intimate. He was jealous, and of a woman!
And as he paced, there was one thought, which started small in his fevered brain, whispering so he could barely catch the accents, and then building in volume until it became a roar in his head and a conviction in his loins.
Rape!
Why in hell shouldn't he have her! She was his wife. And denying a man consortium was grounds for divorce, and he was damned if he was going to divorce that gorgeous, sultry creature-besides being the mother of his children!
And so his thoughts whirled in his head, as he paced the floor, his cock under his loose robe bobbing, each bobbing of his cock an agony that kept him from sleep. At one point, he felt he had to relieve himself, and he started for the bathroom, to jerk himself off.
As he stood there, in front of the toilet bowl, his throbbing pleasure pole in his sweaty hand, he rebelled. No, it was going to be his wife or nothing.
He was well aware of what a spitfire she was. He knew if he meant to rape her, that he would have to subdue her. His cock gave a lurch, and grew again. He had never felt it so big, or so demanding. It was like a monster, and it was leading him, as it stood there, at right angles to his body, the piss slit oozing pre-come. He was in its priapic power.
In desperation, he went to the door between their rooms, and knocked. There was no answer. He put his ear to the door. There wasn't any sound coming from the other room. He knocked again, louder. Still no answer.
With one violent move, he braced his hands against the door frame, reared back as far as the length of his arms would permit him, and buckling his knee into his solar plexis, rammed the heel of his foot against the door. It gave James a sense of primitive power that he had never felt before.
He had never been subject to outbursts of temper. His temperament tended to be steady and amiable, if firm. If he were angry, he stated his anger in terms of a gentleman, and he had always approached his wife as a gentleman.
He thought that was what she wanted, what all women wanted, and what any man worth his salt would give a woman. But now it was different.
Now, as he felt the muscles of his body bend to their unaccustomed task, he felt the throbbing of his cock deep in his bowels, as a war drum, bringing out all the latent violence that exists in any human being.
If he had been pallid and predictable before, Serena would be shocked now, and soon, would experience that shock, when she saw the James who would appear before her, divested of the thin veneer of civility which hid his animal nature, that very nature that Serena craved with all her heart.
Again, with a growing sense of wildness and joy, James reared back, and bucked forward, landing his heels on the wooden door.
He grinned, his upper lip flattening against his gleaming teeth. The heavy, smartly designed door cracked and splintered.
He had broken through!
Serena reared up in bed. She had been smirking. Now her eyes were wide with apprehension. Had the man gone mad? Gone from her head were all her cute little thoughts of driving him mad with passion. She was frightened.
She heard the impact of James's heel against the door, and it gave. Serena didn't know whether to run and scream, or stay and ride it through. She hated scenes. And what would she say if she ran out onto the landing, screaming for help.
Should she tell them her husband was going to rape her? And she knew, as James's heel landed for the third time against the door, wrenching it partially from the hinges, that that was, indeed what the man had in mind. She had been watching the bulge in his pants all night, and he hadn't left the house, and to the best of her knowledge, he hadn't had any of his extraneous nookie lately. He had been getting home from the office at a reasonable hour. He had not taken any trips. And he was more irascible, and itchy lately, meaning that he wasn't getting off.
Serena knew the feeling well. As she sat there, a prey to her own indecision, James's heel landed again on the door, and it gave, toppling over in slow motion until it landed with a crash on the carpeted floor. Surely someone in the house would hear the noise and come.
"J-J-James, what's the matter?"
James stood there, panting. In one lewd movement, he had shucked the loose dressing gown, and he stood there in all his priapic glory. Serena had never seen his cock so large.
"H-Have you been drinking?"
James was not talking, which scared Serena even more. What should she do? He approached her bed, walking deliberately, his throbbing cock bouncing with each of his heavy steps. Serena sat, quaking in the bed, the sheet drawn up to her chin, wondering if he had lost his senses.
Was this her James, her husband of ten years? Gentle, passive, sweet, considerate, under-sexed James. Oh, you fool! she thought to herself. Was he under-sexed, or had her neglect kept him under-stimulated?
There was no denying the throbbing monstrous glory of that inflated pleasure pole, pointing ineluctably in her direction. There was no gainsaying the passionate glow in his suddenly alive and lusting eyes. There was no escaping his inexorable and naked approach to her bed. He reached the side of it. She watched his handsome, well-built chest heaving with his passion. She was dumb with shock and fascinated with the power in his face.
And she felt her pussy cream with desire. She had kept him away to drive him to distraction, and here he stood before her, distracted beyond her wildest dreams. It was a sexual fantasy of the first order, one of the finest, and it was hers. She was going to be raped by her husband. But not without a fight!
He had reached over swiftly, and pulled the covers away from her quivering body. She gasped and jumped out of the bed on the other side, away from him. The bathroom! If she could get to the bathroom, she'd be safe.
James leaped over the bed, grabbing at her ankles, as he lay sprawled on the soft mattress. She toppled over, landing with a heavy thud on the carpeted floor.
"James, please, you are losing your mind! Stop, please!" James threw himself off the bed, landing partially on top of her. She scratched at his face, her fingernails leaving a large welt down one cheek. She was squealing and panting and writhing desperately under him.
"Noooo...." she cried. "Don't ... please...!"
A sudden knock on the door, caused James to clamp his large and powerful hand over Serena's mouth. She tried to bite his hand, but he squeezed hard against her cheeks, bruising them.
She hard Marvin's voice. "Madame, is everything all right?"
James found his voice at last. "Everything's fine, Marvin. Sorry we disturbed you. Just a little horseplay."
"Oh!" came Marvin's voice, lightly. "So sorry, sir."
James laughed, loud and long, and then grunted, pressing himself harder . into the struggling body of his wife.
"One more sound out of you, and I'll whip that soft, lovely skin right off you. You're my wife, and I'm sleeping with you tonight."
He laughed lewdly into her face, as he squirmed all over the soft, lovely contours of Serena's flesh. "No, we're not doing any sleeping tonight. I'm going to fuck you to death."
He released his hand, to plant a kiss on his wife's full lips. She bit his lip. Her head reeled with pain, as he brought his palm down on her cheek in a violent, head-wrenching slap, which left her gasping.
James had taken her arms and pinned them over her head, against the floor. "Now clean up the blood you drew," he growled, pushing his mouth against hers.
"Mmmmm...." protested Serena, feeling her pussy lips spread, as the blood rushed to them to feed her passion. James slapped her again.
"I said wash the blood from my lips!"
Reluctantly, Serena reached out the tip of her tongue to her husband's mouth, where her teeth had cut them. She licked, gingerly, not wanting to kiss him, knowing that if she did, she'd give in too quickly, and the fun was only beginning.
James's tongue flicked out, running along her lower Up. Serena reached up and bit the tip of it fiercely.
"Unnhh!" grunted James, grabbing her hair suddenly, and pulling her face away from his.
"You little fucking cunt of a spitfire. You need some manners beaten into you, as you beat them into my son today."
While Serena squealed, and kicked, her arms flailing, and useless against the undeniable strength of her husband, he pulled her to her feet, and dragged her to the closet. There, searching among the clothes, he found what he was looking for-her riding quirt.
Serena redoubled the strength of her fighting. "No, James, you've gone mad. You can't mean that-ouch!"
Serena felt the little whip bite into her calf, as her husband brought it down hard, then he threw her on the bed, and brought it down again. It landed on her ass cheek. She screamed, the blow causing her to bounce on the bed. She raised her arms to defend her from the rain of lashes now falling freely on her lovely, flawless white body.
She started to cry. She was being beaten by her own husband! She felt the welts rising on her skin, as her husband whipped, aiming for her breasts, her ass, her back, her sides, her arms, and the blows hitting with a frequency and accuracy that increased the pain growing in Serena's body.
And as the pain grew, so did her pleasure. Her pussy was sending out little signals of fire. She wasn't going to give in. She wasn't going to put out. Let the bastard take her. And that was exactly what he was going to do.
Serena knew that was what he intended to do when he broke the door down. She was squealing frantically now, writhing all over the bed, as the whip came down in a rythmic, increasing tempo, which drove her to a frenzy.
She watched her husband, sweating like a pig, driving the lash onto her body. She watched his breathing becoming shallow, rasping in his passion-constricted throat.
And she watched as he threw the whip to one side, panting, and stood there, staring down at her, his eyes mad with lust, his body shaking, his cock throbbing, stood there, about to take what was his by right.
Serena lay, trembling, waiting for her fate.