*** Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of patriarchal misogyny, abuses of civic and marital trust, non-consensual mind control, corrupting perversion of ethics and morality, and incest.
*** Thrill Teaser: This story contains themes of patriarchal misogyny, abuses of civic and marital trust, non-consensual mind control, corrupting perversion of ethics and morality, and incest.
It was still dark out, not even five o'clock yet on this early Monday morning. The Sheriff drove past an old wooden sign at the outskirts of the small city, painted blue emblazoned with friendly white lettering that read, "Welcome to Omassa! A Great Place to Live!" He couldn't help but bark a laugh. He was on his way to check that his deputies had done as instructed.
It was the opinion of the local Chamber of Commerce that no better phrase could possibly attract people of the quality and standing Omassa wanted as its population. Omassa's population the last time a census was taken was 46,748 ... so, roughly that, plus or minus whoever got born or died on any given day since then. The city was accessible by only one state highway that ran east and west, straight through the center. It boasted the typical small city fare and commerce, had a few annual festivals, three elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school. There was, of course, the obligatory old town square, a few city parks, some churches, some meager industrial enterprises still running, a small county hospital, and one television station.
Archibald Simmons, the owner of the local television station was the Chairman of the Chamber's Board of Directors. Archie, as his few friends called him, was 43 years old, single, a bit pudgy around the stomach, and he stood at an unimpressive five feet, eight inches.
One of Archie's friends was the County Sheriff, Clive Warner. Archie had done Clive a huge favor when Clive's wife threatened to divorce him, taking half his life and his kids with her. That was just four years ago. Clive was a mean drunk and his pal Archie had helped him get sober, and stay that way. Archie had greatly improved Clive's life in other ways, too. So, of course, just after Archie's call that morning, it was Clive that ordered his deputies to cordon off both ends of the state highway at the county lines, and detour all traffic around Omassa.
He also ordered two of them, Bart and Dave, to turn around any vehicle trying to leave Omassa at either end of the cordon. The rest of his deputies, along with the dispatcher and all other staff, were sent home for the day, with pay. Clive had already checked in with Dave at the west edge of the county, he was on his way to make sure Bart was squared away on the east side. He had immediately gone into action when Archie called to give the signal.
This plan was a long time in the making and Clive was one of the planners. After checking in with Bart, he made the all clear call to Archie.
Omassa was going under quarantine.
A few hours later, elsewhere in the city, Dr. Emil Bascombe, the local General Practitioner and Director of the County Hospital, was on his way to the television station. He was thinking about Archie's call he received long before dawn.
When Dr. Bascombe's cell phone had begun ringing, his wife woke up. As always, in private, her face was a combination of perverse curiosity, perfect longing, and utter submission. While he fumbled through his drowsy state to answer his phone, she rolled her gorgeous, trim body up against his leg and, keeping her eyes locked on his, she lowered her head to take his flaccid cock into her warm, wet mouth.
He saw the caller and he knew what this call must be about.
"Hello?" he asked. His cock began to swell as he remembered the last hole he'd cum in the night before. He sometimes wondered, idly, whether his wife enjoyed the taste of her own ass and his dried cum. Not that he particularly cared, naomi was his, to use however he wanted.
He heard Archie say the words he'd been waiting to hear, "It's time. You know what to do."
Dr. Bascombe responded, "I understand. On it."
He laid the phone aside and placed his hands on either side of his wife's head, staring coldly into her adoring eyes as he began to thrust his cock into the warm wetness she eagerly surrendered to his use.
Whatever Archie had done five years ago, Dr. Emil would be forever grateful. Before Archie's help, his wife had been a shrewish dilettante, pretending depths of knowledge and wisdom she did not possess. She was also a devious social climber and a grasping, greedy bitch. Now she was a fervently loyal supporter in public. In private, naomi was both a dutiful, capable wife and an unrestrained, deeply perverse, intensely worshipful slut.
He recalled how she used to wear frumpy granny gowns to bed and would sometimes sleep in the guest room. Now, she only ever slept nude, curled up at his feet. Sometimes, he would rouse lightly to feel her hunching against him, humping her slicked pussy against one of his feet in her horny slumber. A far cry from the former churchgoing, Bible-thumping prude he had married.
She used to tease him about having a small penis, now she craved his cock like a heroin addict craves their next fix. He knew he was close. He felt naomi's tongue expertly lapping at his dick, hungry for his cum. With a groan he hoped would not wake their children, he pumped a decent load into her now sucking mouth. She waited until he was still, then deftly felt under his scrotum until she found his duct, and expressed the rest into her mouth.
She went onto all fours, then sat back on her heels, with her palms up on her spread thighs, looking to him for direction while holding his load in her mouth.
He nodded, "Swallow, slut."
She did, then smiled brightly, "Thank you, my Lord, for supplying nourishment to this body. Will you be requiring breakfast, my Lord?"
After instructing her on breakfast, he watched her dress and heard her heading downstairs before he called Delores McGinty, the Superintendent of Schools in Omassa. It wasn't a fun call. He'd eventually convinced the old biddy that the entire county was under quarantine due to an unknown virulent outbreak. He made a couple of more calls that went much better before going down to a very early breakfast.
That had been at just after three in the morning. Now, at almost eight o'clock, he was heading down eerily deserted streets and turned on the radio as he drove to the television station. He grinned, instantly recognizing McGinty's unmistakably irritating voice.
The preening, authoritarian battleaxe was saying, "-antine is countywide. Local businesses are closed, no one is permitted to leave town until we know more. Local residents that are away from town might be permitted to reenter at some point. All schools must close until we know how the virus is spreading and who is at risk of contracting it. All residents are required to keep their children at home, today, as we assess the situation. Only authorized law enforcement and medical personnel are permitted to be out of doors, today. Please stay tuned to our local television station for upda-."
The radio deejay broke her off, mid-sentence, "Or stay tuned to this station."
