Infernal Gray Ch 07

Gray walked into the living room, still naked. He had to duck to get under the door frame, because otherwise his horns would clip it.

Betty was sitting in his chair, and she set the book about Ruritania she was reading aside. She looked up at him. "Did you have a good time?" she asked. From the sounds she'd heard, she already knew the answer. His cock was only semi-hard, so maybe he was even sated. She noticed, with some appreciation, that it had been licked clean. Or wiped clean, she supposed, but she was pretty sure it was licked. That was how things went when your husband had two twenty-something slaves at his beck and call.

"Of course." He sat on the couch. "We should get a second chair."

Betty laughed. "I can move."

"No need."

"I suppose, if I was a slave, you would just make me scamper to the floor whenever you entered."

"I suppose that's true."

"It must be disruptive to have someone here who doesn't obey orders. Disrupts the vibe, and all that."

"It's not how every demon does it," Gray conceded. "But I think our little household is working pretty well."

Betty nodded. "Weirdly, it is, isn't it? The other - well, after the ceremony, I said I had to go to the bathroom, do you remember?"

Gray shrugged, and then thought about it. "I guess I do. I was kind of busy, and - well, it's the sort of thing one doesn't remember. People have to excuse themselves for calls of nature all the time. You just sort of blot it out."

"I didn't have to go."

"Ah. It was getting too intense for you. I'm not going to apologize."

"No, that wasn't it. I just had a moment of feeling left out. When you turned her over and started fucking her in the ass, I think I - well, there's something very sexy about the collar, and the submission, and watching you just take what you want."

"I thought taking her in all three holes would be a good way to finish the ceremony."

She looked at him closely. "For Nicole's benefit?"

It was amusing to watch a two-hundred and fifty pound demon squirm. "Well, you noticed I didn't change the script just because she left."

"Yeah, I noticed that. You wouldn't. That would be admitting that part of it was about Nicole."

"Well, most of it was about Sherry," Gray insisted. "You have to admit that with her mother watching, it was a unique opportunity for Sherry to show she was serious about submitting 'anywhere, anytime.'"

"Uh-huh. Anyway, I had a bee in my bonnet about being the odd girl out, so I went to see Cumslut39."

Gray raised his eyebrows. "You weren't gone long enough to -"

"She was busy." Betty decided not to tell him why she was busy, or who with. "I hurried back and caught the rest of the show. The look on Sherry's face!"

"I wasn't in position to see her face," Gray said. "What was it?"

"Pure bliss," Betty said. "Do I ever look like that?"

Gray grinned. "Sometimes. When I'm fucking you."

Betty laughed. "Cocky bastard."

"I was telling you the truth."

"Sex with you is awfully good."

"I know."

Betty laughed. "I love you, you know that?"

"I love you too."

"I'm not built to be a slave. I don't know what I am. I'm absolutely devoted to you, and it strangely turns me on to know you're fucking girls that you own. And then it scares me that you'll want to up and move to Ruritania with them. Every time I see a protestor outside our house, I think you must be sick of that. I'm sick of it. It's stupid and ignorant. But after the anger fades I worry that I'll be left behind."

Gray shook his head. "I won't leave you behind. I married you because I love you, and I still love you. And I don't want to move to Ruritania."

"Why not?" Betty asked. "It sounds like it would be very nice for you, for Sherry, and for Model. If not now, then after Sherry graduates. I admit it'd probably be more of a pain for her to spend her breaks with us if you were in Europe."

Gray shook his head. "Let's go upstairs."

"Are you changing the subject? Didn't you sate yourself on your newest slave girl?"

Gray smiled. "I am going upstairs, and if you wish to continue the decision, you'll join me. But you're a free woman." He winked as he got up.

Betty followed him up the stairs, reflecting on herself as she did so. She had no problems with him leading. She even liked it.

But that didn't translate to wanting a collar around her neck instead of a ring around her finger. A ring that definitely didn't mean he was going to forsake all others. A ring that meant what, exactly? A circle of metal like the others, but not the same, with no electronics and no practical functionality, meaning nothing more nor less than what two people thought it meant.

Gray sprawled across the bed.

"Want my clothes off?" Betty asked. Part of her felt the conversation had drifted too close to her fears, but at the same time he'd reassured her. She wanted to hear more about that, and yet she was kind of horny, too.

Gray shrugged. "Always. But you wanted to talk, so let's talk. Close the door."

Betty turned. She'd gotten out of the habit of closing it when they had the place to themselves, and she'd stayed out of the habit after Model moved in. She watched Gray use the girl a lot, and she didn't want Model getting the idea that Betty wasn't getting plenty of demon sex, too, and she knew the sound would travel downstairs. Maybe that was petty. She was the wife. Model was just a slave. But sometimes she felt like Model was the slave, and she was

just

the wife.

She closed the door, and started to unzip her dress. "So," she said. "Why don't you want to move to Ruritania?"

Gray shrugged. "I know, especially for Model, that part of what she loves about being a slave is the feeling that she has no choice. That she can't get the collar off, that I can control her by threatening to shock her, that the powers of attorney she's signed give me total control over her life. And in Ruritania, that would be true; the law would enforce my ownership over her."

Betty nodded, folding her dress and recalling a few facts from her book. "You could fuck her in the shopping mall, or on the street there. Sex with slaves isn't considered indecent, and she could be made to walk around naked all the time."

"Sure. Some of that's pretty hot. I'm not saying I wouldn't enjoy visiting. But - while I love owning Model and Sherry, what's hottest about all of that is that they chose it. That we aren't equals, because they chose to make it unequal. And they continue to choose that. In Ruritania, that would all be fuzzier. And besides, this is home."

"It's not me that's holding you back?" Betty undid her bra and noticed her husband's gaze drop to her small, perky breasts.

"I don't think you've held me back at all."

"And you still want me?" she asked, slipping out of her panties.

"I'll show you."

She grinned. "'bout time I got some of the big red cock for myself."

"You had some last night," he reminded her.

"Then it's about time, isn't it?" She got on the bed, and straddled him, stroking his cock to hardness. "You know," she said. "I had a thought."

"What's that, love?"

"Now that there are two slaves, I feel, well, kind of special. I don't mean that they are interchangeable or anything, but there's just the one wife, right?"

He nodded. "So far," he teased.

She made a face at him.

"Yes," he agreed. "Do you want more - well, power, for lack of a better word? The ability to order them around?"

She rubbed his cock against her clit. "They didn't sign up for that," she told him.

"They signed up for whatever I tell them."

She laughed. "No, but there is something I do want."

"What?"

"More slaves."

"Hmm?"

"More slaves," she said. "At least one more. And maybe, sure one I can order around. Just one. But the more of them there are, the more - I can't explain it. The more special I am?" She shook her head. "You got harder when I said more slaves. And started leaking pre."

"It might have something to do with you stroking me like that," he said.

She laughed. "Do you like me telling you to have more?"

"Yes."

She angled him towards her opening, and slowly lowered herself, teasing him and teasing herself. "I like watching you fuck them, Gray. I didn't think I would, but I like it. Especially -"

"Especially?"

"When you're a little harsh. When you're fucking their ass. When you're making them lick you, worship you. I like the fact that my husband is worshipped by other women. It makes me feel like a goddess - a minor goddess, maybe, but a goddess nonetheless."

"I'm not their god," he objected.

"Oh?" she asked.

"That's kind of blasphemy."

"And a demon objects to that?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know that's not -"

She interrupted him by suddenly taking the rest of him in. "You think it's wrong for me to want to be a goddess?"

He shook his head. "I didn't say that."

"Or for me to want you to fuck other women?"

"I didn't say that, either."

"I don't know what's hotter, being a goddess, or being a, well, cuckquean I guess."

He grinned at her and grabbed her hips. "Why choose?"

And then he rolled her over, still inside her, and she shrieked. He pulled her legs up high, and started fucking her. Then his tail grabbed the bottle of lube from the table, and brought it to his hands.

"I said I liked you fucking other girls in the ass!" she yelled. "Not me."

"Why choose?" He lubed up the spade like tip of his tail, and then lifted her legs a little higher, so that he could slip his tail into her back opening while he fucked her pussy.

"Oh my god."

"You don't have to call me that," he mocked. "Cuckquean goddess." His tail wiggled inside her, tickling her on the inside. He caressed a breast with one hand, while the other diddled her clit. And his cock filled her completely.

She came, loudly, conscious that the girls could hear downstairs. Well, it wasn't like

she

didn't get to hear

them

.

#

Two days later, Betty came home from work, tried to ignore the handful of protestors across the street, and plucked the mail out of the mailbox. In with the usual bills, pleas for donations, and advertisements was a rather large envelope from the Ruritanian embassy.

She opened the door to see Model and Sherry on the couch. Model was sucking at one of Sherry's large, ripe breasts. Sherry was stroking Model's clit with her thumb and had two fingers inside her. Gray was in his chair, sketching it all.

"Good afternoon, Miss Betty," Sherry said, and then moaned.

"Oh, hi!" Model said. Then they went back to what they were doing.

Gray grunted, which is about what she expected from him when he was drawing. She smiled. A perverted idea had been growing in her, since she'd embraced the phrase Gray had used. Cuckquean goddess, indeed. "You ordered them to do that?" she asked Gray, leaning over his shoulder.

"Sure. Although they didn't take much convincing."

"Very hot," Betty said. "I think that should be understood with all your slaves, that they be willing to make out or have sex with anyone you direct. No matter who."

"Looking for a playmate for yourself?" he asked. "And it is understood. It's in the contract. Part of the point is for them to model the things I want to paint."

"If you direct, I wouldn't be averse to being worshipped as a goddess should be. A cuckquean goddess. But not right now, they're too sexy to stop."

"This slave would happily serve her Master's wife," Model said. And then she came, shuddering as Sherry moved her fingers.

"Not just her Master's wife," Betty said. "Anyone."

"Anyone!" Model agreed, as she caught her breath.

"And you, Sherry?" Betty asked.

"Anyone," Sherry agreed. "Anyone at all. But especially if they are big, and red..."

Betty walked through to the dining room. Her view of the girls was blocked there, but she could see Gray sketching away. She disposed of the junk mail and hesitated over the envelope. It was, after all, addressed to Gray, not her.

"You got something from the embassy," she called out. "Mind if I open it?"

He was wrapped up in drawing again, and said, "Sure."

Betty suspected that if she asked if she could go out and buy a Rolls Royce, he would have said sure in the same tone of voice, but still, he'd said yes.

She opened the envelope and spread the papers out on the table. Slave documents, as she'd expected. A power of attorney, contingent on the signing of the Ruritanian slave agreement. While the slave agreement wasn't enforceable in the United States, apparently the contingency was acceptable. A name change form, signed, with the name blank. Waivers of various sorts. All signed, all awaiting Gray's signature.

She put them all back in the envelope. She carried the envelope with her as she fetched a book from upstairs, and then carried it back down, setting it on the table while she read her novel. It was never a question of whether Perry Mason would get the leggy young woman with the lovely figure off - off from a charge of murder, of course - it was just how. And of course Della Street would smile, amused at the way he rushed to defend any sexy young thing, while holding a flame for Perry all the while.

She was sort of a cuckquean role-model, actually, even if Mason never actually had sex in those books, which made Betty wonder if that was why she always liked them, as dated as they were. She felt the same way about Pepper Potts. She shrugged. It passed the time to read, and it was Model's turn to do something about dinner. Right now she was probably too busy eating Sherry, so it would be a while.

Good thing I'm not too hungry.

"Okay, girls, I've got a lot of material," Gray said. "Model, I think you're on for dinner?"

"Oh! Oops! May this slave order delivery?"

"No," Gray said. "But you may order carry-out, and go get it."

"Yes, Master," Model said. "May this slave put on clothes for the purpose?"

Gray smirked. "A skirt and a snug t-shirt, no underthings," he said.

"Yes, Master."

Model scurried to her room. Gray got up and walked over to the table, sitting across from Betty. He reached for the envelope. "You opened this," he said. "Or it came open?"

"I opened it," Betty said. "I asked you first, and you said yes."

"Ah," he said, putting it down. "What is it?"

Betty pulled it back toward herself. "It's a complete set of papers, from someone who would like you to enslave her, it seems."

Gray's eyes narrowed. "And you don't want me to see it?"

"Oh, of course I do. I just want to lay some groundwork first. You don't know anything about this?"

Gray shook his head. "I can't imagine who it would be, actually. Some random person I don't know? Someone I met at the club? A Church of the Infernal Angels person?"

"Just think, though. Whoever it is had this mailed to you, not knowing whether you'd sign it or not. Sign it, and they're a slave for life. But you might toss it in the trash, and they'd never know. Maybe you're too busy to even read it. Think of how that must feel, to sit at home, not knowing if you're free, or not. Your fate in the hands of Grayson Harding."

"Right," said Gray. "We need to relieve that person's stress. I can't imagine that I'd say yes." He reached for the envelope, and Betty pulled it away.

"If it's someone you don't know, would you like me to interview them for you? It could become part of my role, to screen prospective slaves. I could let it be known that you were looking. Or even go to Inferno, looking for prospects."

Gray hmmed. "You'd like that?"

"I'd like that. We'd need a bigger house, of course. Maybe something out in the country, so more of a trip for protestors, and a gate far enough away from the house that we couldn't see them."

Gray chuckled. "You have quite a plan."

"Cuckquean goddesses make plans. It's what we do."

He smiled. "So it's someone I don't know, then. Yes, you may interview them. But I make the final choice."

"Of course. You're the Master. I'm just your partner in crime, your loyal assistant."

"My wife," Gray added, starting to get up.

"It's someone you know, though."

Gray sat back down. "Then why all that?"

"Well, I thought I should talk about us going forward, as long as I had a prop for my hypothetical. And speaking of hypotheticals, remember our discussion last night about me having one slave that I could order around?"

Gray nodded. "It was your idea that it would be just one, rather than all of them," he said. "The one isn't an issue."

"Well," Betty said. "I'd like this one. And I'd like a voice in her name, too." She set the envelope down where he could reach it.

He took it and pulled out the papers inside. He read the current name of the person who signed the papers, and his eyes widened. Then, as Sherry walked in, he quickly stuffed them back in the envelope.

Betty smiled at the naked girl. Her heavy breasts swung as she walked, and she had a little auburn landing strip that seemed to point at her pussy. "Sherry, do you think slaves should have any voice in whether their Master takes on a new slave?"

Sherry shook her head. "Of course not."

Gray frowned. "There are exceptions," he said.

"You get to make exceptions to anything," said Sherry. "May I go work on my comic while Model gets dinner?"

"Of course," Gray said. "Whenever I don't give you direction, assume you should be working on your art."

Sherry smiled. "Yes, Master."

Sherry went into the room she and Model were sharing, and Model emerged at the same time and headed out the door. Gray waited until the door closed before turning to Betty.

"We're not doing this," Gray said.

"Can you honestly tell me you don't want to fuck her again?"

He hesitated.

"Right," Betty said. "So why not?"

"Sherry has to be asked. Your whole business of trying to pretend that she shouldn't is ridiculous."

Betty shrugged. "So ask her. That'll be... interesting. Or you could let your cuckquean goddess, aka your HR department, do it for you."

Gray chuckled. "Nope. I'm fine with you screening the wannas, but this I have to handle myself."

She leaned over the table to read, upside down, the text he was sending.

"Just letting you know that I got the envelope from the embassy."

Good old Gray. It was a kindness to let her know, even if he didn't have an answer for her. That sort of thing was why she married him. So why did it turn her on to think of him embracing his dark side, enslaving and using women, calling them names, and in particular, sticking Nicole with something highly humiliating?

#

"And?" Nicole typed. But she stopped herself before hitting send.

If the answer was no, he'd have said that. If the answer was yes, he'd probably have said that too. So it was all in between, which is where she'd been for the last few days. She'd been between hoping he would take her in, afraid he would say yes, and wishing she hadn't embarrassed herself by sending it at all.

Well, if it wasn't an immediate no, at least that reinforced the idea that it wasn't crazy to have sent it. At least not crazy in the sense of thinking there was hope for her and Gray, when there wasn't. It might have been crazy in all sorts of other ways. Submission was a crazy thing, in a way. The collar thing was crazy.

Of course, not even trying to get what one wanted, because one was afraid of rejection, was kind of crazy too.

None of us are really sane, thought Nicole.

"Thank you," she typed, and hit send.

It was easy to seem patient, in a text. And yet harder to

be

patient, when all you had were a few words, and you kept trying to read between the lines.

She wondered if she should text Sherry, and let her know what she had done. She'd been wrestling with that, too, but if Gray was just going to throw the papers away when he got them, there was no reason to bring it up. But he hadn't, apparently.