TRIGGER WARNINGS: Simulated Rape, Pain (1 drop blood), Male Bi/Gay, MaleDom, FemDom, Family (no incest), Consensual Non-Consent, and Sex Work (idealized) The only coercion is from a sense of duty to family. All over 18.
Credits: Edited by the 'Erotic Confectioners. Many thanks to Onyx03, Grrl Orc, Jasmine27, and allnitediner as well as others for editing this story.
Note: Nine chapters total.
*****
I will never forget waking up that next morning. I woke with a start, disoriented and alarmed, but at first I couldn't remember why I should be upset. The previous night came rushing back to me after a moment, and I was terrified. My wife was literally tearing herself apart over her inability to repay her family, her uncle, the money she had invested in her ex-husband. Had that bastard not disappeared with all their money, she could easily have repaid her family with a tidy profit, but he had and she had been trying to make up for that ever since.
Lying there in bed that morning, I remember being overwhelmed by the scope of her trust and how it had been broken. She had borne the guilt by herself and she had tried so desperately to protect me from it all. More than that, there was the pain that her trying to protect me was causing her. I remember the flush of anger when I finally understood what he had to her and my surprise at the thoughts that came to my mind... thoughts about what I wanted to do to him. I hadn't believed I could kill another human before that moment. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to torture and then kill him. And I wanted it so very badly. I think I changed in that instant. I didn't realize it, but I was no longer the same person.
And then, as the sleep fell from my eyes, the full horror struck; I realized she was gone.
The realization hit me like a brick to the head. I flew out of bed yelling her name. I ran around the house desperately searching for her-until I saw the note.
My heart dropped into the ground. I knew she was gone; as in gone gone. As in "took my money, my truck, my dog, and my heart" in a country western song... Gone. The hole in my heart might as well have been physical, I could feel it just the same. I seriously didn't care about the money, I just wanted her back. My hands shook as I opened the note and read it:
"My Dearest Love,
I had already sold my businesses and now I've taken half our savings. I hoped that would be enough and I could remain with you, but I cannot. My uncle needs me now, and I must honor my debt to him-help him save the family business. I will give him what money I have and work for him until my debt is fully paid. It is my duty. It is my destiny. It is also what I need. I didn't realize that until he told me what they need from me, and you helped me understand that it is also what I need and crave. I understand now that this was always what I was destined to become. When the business is safe, I will crawl back and offer myself to you as your sex slave-to use as you will, for as long as I live. Or for you to toss aside. I don't think you can really want what I need to be-who I really am. I will beg your forgiveness then, and I beg you now to forget me and enjoy your life."
The last line was written in a shaking hand, and there were teardrops on the paper.
Since the bulk of the money in savings was from her contributions, she was being more than fair - as far as the money went. However, I realized in a flash of anger how unfair she was being to me. Leaving without giving me a chance to... to... do something. In that instant, I knew what "something" was.
I found myself moving with cold, robotic precision. Never before, nor ever since, have I been so sure of my actions. I contacted my lawyer and set an appointment. I then drove to the bank, emptied my personal accounts, including savings, into travelers checks. I called around until I found a realtor who listened more than she talked (an amazingly difficult task) and I put the house up for sale. I hesitated at that point, because the memory of bringing her home after rescuing her from that alley was powerful. But I decided she needed me more now and I pressed on. I found her family's address in the "old country" and booked a flight.
Life-shaking actions taken without concern. Easy as breathing. Not that breathing was so easy at that point.
The flight, however, was torture. Not the flying part, I've never minded airplanes. It was just sitting there with nothing to do. That was torture, and for many reasons. One was the horrible pain of missing my wife, my love, the one I was joined with. If you haven't been married and in love, then separated, you can't imagine that pain. It can drive a person mad; drive them to do anything to make it stop.
The torture took another form as well. Visions of her tied up while I ravaged her. Her smile as she begged me to slap her. Maybe it was just latent anger over being left. I found myself enjoying the image of my hurting her, forcing her-really enjoying it. Far more than I expected. I was surprised to find myself becoming very aroused, which was a problem since I wear boxers and my pants were soft, comfortable slacks. I had to hide my erection from the pretty young lady I happened to be sitting beside. Eventually, as my thoughts of harshly fucking my wife continued to pour through my mind, I had to stumble to the bathroom to relieve myself. My trips to the bathroom were frequent and that horrible little toilet disposed of more than #1 or #2.
Was I becoming a sadist? I knew about that from reading on the internet, but I couldn't imagine actually wanting to hurt a woman. Honestly, I still didn't, not in any other context. But in a sexual context, I started having increasingly vile fantasies built upon my last time with my wife.
I saw myself fucking her from behind while I held her hair and pulled her head back painfully. Trying not to think about it, trying to not see that picture in raging detail in my mind, simply wasn't possible. I practically ran to the bathroom, trying to hide my raging erection, and jerked off; cumming after just a few strokes.
A stewardess pinched her finger opening a drink can and cried out, putting her finger in her mouth. She was pretty, and in pain; gasping, her chest rising and falling. I wanted her. I wanted to take her injured hand and squeeze it just to watch the horror on her face. I loved my wife, but I found myself lusting after female pain.
Back in my seat, I suddenly saw myself standing over my wife and this stewardess, slapping their faces with my hard cock and then forcing it down the stewardesses throat while she gagged and my wife watched, knowing she would be next.
*another trip to the bathroom*
On my way back to my seat, I saw a couple kissing, his hand around her throat. Before I sat down, I knew I wouldn't be there long. I saw myself commanding my wife to ride another man while I fucked her ass and spanked her; feeling his cock slipping into her, pulling her hair and hearing her scream as we came. I was doing ok until I imagined his wife cuffed to the bed frame, watching, eyes wide, knowing she was next. When I looked at her, I imagined that she blushed and looked down, trying to hide a smile. And I was off. Twice.
*one trip to each bathroom within a few minutes*
On my way out of the stall, the attendant was looking at me with a strange expression. She looked a little worried, but also curious. Seeing that I had seen her, she stopped me in the galley, blocking the way with her slim body, looking up at my face.
"Ok sugar." she asked with a southern drawl, "What has you so worked up?"
"Um, I just have an upset stomach, must be something I ate." I hastily tried to cover. She chucked.
"Ha! Darlin', I've been around the block, and behind the bleachers a few times. I know the smell of spunk when it hits my nose." She winked at me with a crooked grin. "Now that little thing you are sitting next to is cute, but she isn't that cute. Something in your head is driving you crazy. Maybe you need a little help?"
She stepped closer to me and I suddenly realized she was rubbing my cock through my pants. I saw red. Reaching up quickly, I wrapped my hand around her throat and held her against the cabinet. My face was above hers, and I stared into her eyes.
