Evil Slut Bride

"Endless day

Follows endless night.

You're gonna have to stay,

And it'll be all right.

As long as endless day

Follows endless night,

We're gonna do all right.

We're gonna do all right."

- Hugh Cornwell

***

I was getting anxious for us to buy a house, because I knew Davey would feel more trapped in the marriage once we were homeowners. I also wanted to use the house as leverage: I was gonna make him sign legal papers that said if he ever filed for divorce, or separation, or even was not staying in our house, then the house, and everything else we owned would be mine, plus he would agree to give me 30% of all of his future earnings. (The specific percentage was Jenna's idea; she said half was not really realistic.) And of course, though this part wouldn't be on paper, I would tell him that leaving me would mean a cage on his dick for the rest of his life.

My first move was to go into Feedler and talk to Mr. Mullens. He was about 30, I think. I had learned, when I made Davey take me in earlier, that he was the #1 man when it came to scheduling. I strutted right in to Davey's workplace, looking sexy as hell in a short pleated skirt, and never looked in Davey's direction. I knew he could see me, though. In the corner of his eye, I saw him start to get up and approach me. But he stopped... because, being a "good boy", he knew he wasn't allowed to say hello to his own wife! Hahaha!

I went to Mr. Mullens' office and told him Davey and I were saving for a house, and was Davey getting all the hours he possibly could? The answer was vague, and made me think that *possibly*, there were more hours available. I didn't see a wedding ring on Mr. Mullens' finger, so I got flirtatious with him and suggested there might be something I could do for him, if he could do this for us. I gave him my number and said he could call or text me any time. He then dialed my number so his number would be in my phone. I thanked him for his time, and left, hoping for the best.

As I walked out of his office, I walked by a break room and happened to look inside. I noticed there were some cups and plates left around, crumbs on the table and the counter... I stepped inside and opened the microwave. It was filthy. I opened the fridge. Also filthy. I had an idea.

I stepped back into Mr. Mullens' office, and said, "Excuse me? Mr. Mullens?"

"Jeff is fine."

"Thank you. Jeff... um, can I ask you one more favor?"

"Sure."

"Well, this is gonna sound a little strange, but is there someone in charge of making sure your break room is clean and tidy?"

"Well, the janitors come in at night and empty the trash, but other than that, we all just kinda look after it."

"I see. Well... again, this will sound a little strange, but could you - not right away, but maybe about a week from now - could you tell Davey that you really need someone to be responsible for keeping the break room clean, and you want him to keep on top of it, and keep the table wiped, and the counters clean, maybe give the fridge a thorough cleaning once a week, clean the microwave a couple times a day? Sweep the floor in there. That kind of thing?"

"Ummm... haha. You want me to make your husband the break room cleaner?"

"Yes. See, I'm a housewife, and I think he needs to better appreciate those kinds of chores."

"Ah... OK. I get it. So... naturally you wouldn't want me to tell him this idea was yours."

"Right. Tell him... I don't know. Whatever's believable. And one more thing: I noticed the coffee maker is in there. Could you tell him that also part of the duties is to go around, maybe twice a day and ask everyone if they'd like some coffee? Or if he can get them anything else to drink or eat, from the machines, or bring someone's snack to them from the fridge? Stuff like that?"

"Hahahaha. So you want me to make him the company waiter? Or the little errand coffee boy? Or whatever?

"Well, yeah... See, I have a different reason for this: I think that will really help Davey improve his social skills, help him get to know people better. It'll force him to interact with people more."

"Oh. OK. Well... yeah, I think I can make all that happen for you."

"Great! Like I said, wait about a week. I had nothing to do with this idea. But yeah, I think, too, if you could make it clear to everyone here that Davey is supposed to keep on top of those things, and... you know, make sure everyone feels free to supervise his duties... like say, Joe Blow thinks the table is dirty. Rather than clean it himself, it'd be better for Joe Blow to go to Davey, and remind Davey that the table is his job, and then make Davey go right then and clean it, while Joe Blow stands over him to make sure it gets done right. I just think that would help Davey, and me, a lot, because he'll realize how challenging it is to keep up with things like that. And having his co-workers be strict with him will help him understand that you can never slack off when it comes to cleaning."

"Got it."

"And, uh... like I said before, if there's anything I can ever do for you... gimme a call." I winked, and left. On my way out, I totally ignored Davey and walked right past him. As soon as I was outside, I called Jenna immediately to tell her how my poor hubby, the complete slave loser at home, would have to go to work, in one week's time, and have every one of his co-workers make him feel like a peon loser, too! Hahahaha! Ohhhh, fuck!! How am I soooo blessed in life?? I loved knowing, too, that since he was required to keep that finger-like thing up his butt for one hour at work, he'd be bent over, wiping tables, wearing panties under his pants, with his penis cage in front, and the "butt pacifier" in back. I told Jenna we really needed to loosen up his ass to take a butt-plug, so I could make him wear that all day at work.

About an hour later, I called Jeff, and told him that I didn't see Davey when I dropped by there, and I can't seem to get him by phone. Was he there? Jeff said, "Yes. Actually.. maybe you didn't see him but he saw you. He came by after you left and asked why you were here."

"Ah. And what did you tell him?"

"I just said you were asking about his work hours. That's all I said."

"OK, wonderful." I said, "Well, I'll just text him, then. Thaaaanks, Jeff."

Right after that, I sent hubby this text: "i hope u didnt try and go ask some1 at work why i was there, cuz if u did i'll find about it and u'll be in big trouble. new rule, if i come to ur work and leave w/out saying anything to u, u're not allowed to ask any1 why i was there."

Jenna and I laughed our asses off knowing Davey would be sweating bullets the rest of the day. Hahahaha! I decided to let him sweat all evening, too. I stopped home about 9:30 and found Davey in the laundry room, folding clothes. I came swinging cat-o-nines and whipped him all over, and said, "I found out from Mr. Mullens that you went in there asking questions. You should know if you can't ask ME questions, you can't ask anyone questions ABOUT me, either! Instead of just trusting that I had a good reason to be there, WHICH I DID, you had to go snooping. You just earned yourself the next two months in chastity, mister. AND IF YOU DARE MAKE A PEEP... it'll be 4." Then I disappeared out of the room, and left him with our laundry...and probably his tears. Bwahahaha!

Then I left the house and went back to Jenna's, not returning until about 2 AM, so my poor little housewimp would have to wait until the next night to see me. Hahaha.

Jeff did manage to find some more shifts, or half-shifts, or overtime hours here and there, for Davey to work, so now he was averaging 15-20 more hours a week than before. That was perfect, and when Jeff kept hinting at wanting a blow job, I asked him if there was any place inside Feedler where we could get away with it. He told me about a supply closet, near a door I could slip in without Davey seeing me. I arranged to meet him. I got there early to locate the closet, but after I found it, I went back out, circled the building, and then came in on the other side so Davey *would* be able to see me go by. I strutted back, ignoring him, shaking my ass in a mini-skirt. As I made my way to the back of the building, I passed Matt, the guy I had fucked while engaged to Davey, the guy I was afraid would tell Davey about me. He never had, and now, as he saw me sashaying past, he stopped, and studied me suspiciously. I just smiled and winked at him. Then I went back to the closet and waited.

When Jeff came in and shut the door, I smiled and went to my knees. I pulled out his dick, and started to suck it a little, but then I came clean with him and told him that my hubby was a wimp, whom I had totally pussywhipped, and underneath his pants was a pair of panties and a cage on his useless dick, both of which I forced poor hubby to wear. I told him the real reason for my idea about the break room was that I wanted my hubby to feel like a little bitchboy loser at work, too, and would he please tell me all about everyone there at the office bossing him around? Please give me details, I said.

I fingered my pussy and kept licking and sucking Jeff's cock as he laughed and told me about Davey's new jobs of break room cleaner and errand boy. He said he made it clear to everyone to be very strict with Davey. He said people would tell him exactly how they wanted their coffee, and make him stand while they tasted it, sometimes making him fix it again if it wasn't right. All day long, people would say, "Hey, Davey, grab that Mountain Dew from the fridge for me, will ya?" Even if someone spilled a soda all over the floor, instead of cleaning it up themselves, they'd yell for Davey and make him get on his hands and knees and wipe it up, right at their feet, while they stood over him! The more humiliating the story was, the more hungrily I sucked, and the more furiously I fingered myself.

Between sucks, I said, "Oh my god... Jeff... can you make him call everybody 'sir' and 'maam'? Can you? Please?"

"Hahaha. Yeah. I absolutely can."

"Ohhh god that would be so hot. Can you make him take over the janitor services? This place isn't that big... Can you just cancel the service you have and make him take care of it?"

"Hahahaha! Ohhh my god, woman."

"I mean, you don't even have to pay him for it, just like tell him that's part of his job now."

"I'll look into that. I'm not directly in charge of that. But I'll see."

"Is there anything else you can think of just to make him feel like more a little loser wimp around here?"

"Uhhhh..."

"You know what, I know something... I have a little gift for you. I'm gonna tell Davey that it's because of you he's been gettin' all the extra hours. I'm gonna tell him it would be a very nice gesture of thanks for him to come to you and offer to wash your car once a week, right out here in the parking lot."

"Hahahaha! Heyyyy... that works."

"That means once a week, until further notice. So that means he won't stop doing that unless I say so."

"Nice!"

"What day's best for you?"

"Friday afternoons, I think."

"You got it. Make sure you're really snobby to him about it, like you're some stuck-up rich guy and he's just some poor peon."

"Whatever you say, baby."

Back at home, I found Davey on his knees, bent over the edge of the bathtub, scrubbing it. I sat on the ledge beside him, and said, "Davey, it's because of Mr. Mullens that you've been getting so many more hours at work, because I met with him a few weeks ago to ask him about that. Of course, you already know that since you broke the rules and went snooping to see why I was there... but anyway... I think it would be a very good boy of you to go to Mr. Mullens tomorrow and say, 'Sir, I really appreciate all the extra hours you've given me, and I'd like to offer to wash your car for you on Friday.' Do you think you can do that, Davey?"

"Yes, dear."

"OK, good. He'll probably refuse, but at least you offered. But if he says OK, then make sure you wash it very thoroughly, just like he wants it. And wax it, too, if he wants. He might think 'washing' includes cleaning up the inside, I don't know... Anyway, be smart about this; you need to stay on his good side, so no matter what he tells you, say, 'yes sir'." I was getting wet in my panties telling my husband to say "yes sir" to the man whose cock I was sucking just a few hours ago.

"Once you've washed his car one time, he might expect you to do it every Friday, so... I guess don't be surprised if that happens. Like I said, just say 'yes sir' and do it without any complaining."

"Yes, dear."

"By the way, hun, how *are* things at your job? Are you still enjoying Feedler? Is it still working out?"

"Ummm... I guess... it's just... lately..."

"What?"

"Well... Jeff actually-"

"Mr. Mullens, you mean."

"Well, we all call him Jeff-"

"I don't think you should. What did I just say a minute ago? This is the one guy, above all others there, you should be sucking up to. I mean... he's the most... superior guy there. If there's anyone's butt you should be kissing, it's his." Ohhhh god... yes, I knew what I was doing with this kinda talk, and I was loving it! "Plus he IS superior to you, anyway, so you should call him Mr. Mullens and 'sir'."

"Ummm... well, anyway..."

"Wait a minute, don't change the subject. I want you to tell me that Mr. Mullens is superior to you, that you need to kiss his butt, and I want you to promise me you'll call him 'sir'."

"Ummm... OK.. I mean, yes dear. I will call Mr. Mullens 'sir'."

"Say all the rest. Don't you know how this works by now, Davey? Tell me Mr. Mullens is superior to you, that you need to kiss his butt, and promise me you'll call him 'sir'."

"Yes, dear. Mr. Mullens is superior to me, I need to kiss his butt, and I promise to call him 'sir'."

I could not resist at that point. I still had my mini-skirt on that I wore when I went in to suck Jeff off. Sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, I flung my legs open, grabbed Davey's head in both hands, said, "Good boy!" and shoved his face right against my panty-clad pussy. I grinded on his face, then reached down to slide my panties to the middle of my thighs. Then I pushed Davey's face into my wet pussy, and said, "Oh, that's such a good boy. Eat me!" Davey's hands were useless, because one held a sponge, and both had scouring powder on them, so he had to keep both hung over the ledge, into the tub.

After getting myself off, I slid my panties back up, said, "Whew! Wow. That came outta nowhere. You were a very good boy, though. Anyway... I'm sorry I interrupted. You were gonna tell me how things are going at work?"

He started by telling me Jeff dropped the break room cleanup duties on him a couple of weeks before, as well as the general on-demand refreshment provision duties for the whole office. I broke in and said, "Hm. That's weird, that he would just spring that on you. But I hope you agreed to it. Him being superior to you and all."

He was beginning to catch on that there was something... a little off... about my wording. There was a brief look of puzzlement on his face, but then he said, "Yes. I did agree, but it's been... *sigh* ... kind of embarrassing, because people have really been taking advantage of me over this."

"Do you provide them with helpful services?"

"Well. Yeah. Like... every 10 mintues, it seems like. Someone is calling me over to get them something. Or calling me into the break room... like, 'This table needs wiped, David.' Or, 'I spilled something on the floor, and it's your job to keep the floor clean, so go ahead and clean that up for me.'"

I was getting a little wet again from hearing him talk about his whole office treating him like the little slave I'd made him into. I could listen to this all day, but I didn't want him to be aware - quite yet - of how much I enjoyed it. I decided to end the conversation by saying, "Well... I wouldn't let it bother you, as long as they're pleased with your performance at work, and you keep your job there so you can move up... that's what's important. So just keep doing a good job without any complaining. Finish up this tub, Davey, and wash your hands, and then crawl into the living room to meet me."

At that point I walked away abruptly, and went into the living room. I moved the coffee table to leave a big open space in the center of the room. Then I sat on the sofa to wait. I slipped my panties off, and lazily fingered myself under my skirt.

When he came in, I had him kneel before me in the center of the room. I smirked at him and fingered myself a little. "Do you like my pussy?"

"Yes."

"I do too. I love playing with it. Just touching my pussy... whenever I want. And making myself cum. I love that."

He just stared... in frustrated desire.

"I love your tongue in my pussy. Your ... dick [I made a disgusted look] ... in my pussy, well... that was a disappointment." I gave a mean chuckle. "But I love your tongue in it. How long has it been now since your little penis cage got unlocked, and I let you have a little cummy-cummy?"

"Um... I guess ... almost ... four weeks now."

"Can I tell you something? I love keeping you locked up, Davey. I love only letting you cum in a frustrating way. And Davey... the truth is, I don't *want* to have sex with you. I'll never have sex with you again, Davey. How do you feel about that? You can tell me. You can answer honestly."

"I feel *terrible* about it!" he whined, and he instantly started to break down and cry. I let him sob for half-a-minute, then I said, "Go ahead and cry, Davey. I don't mind. You know what?" I leaned forward a little and said, quietly, and wantonly, "Your tears turn me on."

Then I leaned back and started to finger my pussy, while smirking at my poor, tortured hubby. He sobbed even more pitifully, and after a minute or so said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

I continued smirking, and started to breathe a little heavier, too. I said, "I don't believe you are allowed to ask me questions, Davey." He gave an exhale of defeat, and lowered his head. "But... I'll let you slide this time. I don't really know why you're so sad, Davey. I'm not sad at all. I'm very... VERY... happy. I love my life, and I love my husband- well... I love my marriage, anyway. Treating you this way makes me happy, Davey. It makes me OVERJOYED. And ... that should make you happy. Don't you wanna sacrifice your happiness for mine, Davey? That's what *I* want."

After a pause, I said, "Do you love me, Davey?"

"Yes, Mand- ... dear... yes, dear... I love you! I love you with all my heart, and it just-"

"Ah-ah! You answered the question. So what's the problem, Davey? Keep loving me. Keep making me happy. Be my slave hubby. Let me ask you something. Do I let you sleep every night?"

"Yes."

"Do I let you eat and drink?"

"Yes."

"So... every day you eat, and every night you sleep. When you're awake, you spend your days making me happy. So what's the problem. I'll continue to let you eat and drink, and sleep. I'll never make you eat shit, or eat garbage, or something disgusting like that. I don't want you to get sick. I need you to be able to function every day. So you can keep my house clean, keep our bills paid, and all that. All you have to do is... whatever I say... and you'll have a happy wife. Happy wife, happy life, right? Hahahaha."

For a moment, I let him suffer with the obvious awareness that he was NOT happy. Then I said, "If you're not happy, Davey, it's because you're choosing not to be. You know what they say, 'happiness is a choice'? So why not just choose to be happy... since you know I'm happy. But... for right now, Davey, your tears are turning me on, so crawl over here and put your face right in my pussy, so I can smear your tears and my pussy juice all over you, hahahahaha! ... Davey! Crawl over here now! Eat your wife's pussy!"