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I should have known it was too easy.
I tossed and turned until I heard the soft sound of his snoring and relaxed enough to drift off. I don’t know what time it was when I was awakened by the feeling of something hard and cold on my lips. My eyes flew open, and I was trying to swat it away when I felt his hand grip my wrist.
“Open your mouth.” His voice was low, guttural.
“What are you doing? Get off of me.”
His grip tightened, and with the other hand, he yanked my hair until my chin was pointing to the ceiling. “I’m not asking again.”
I opened my mouth and tensed as he shoved a cylinder into it until I started to gag. He laughed. Then he was straddling me, reaching for the lamp by my side of the bed. When the light came on, I realized what was in my mouth—the barrel of a gun.
He’s going to kill me.Panic swallowed me, and I laid perfectly still, terrified to move. I watched in horror as his index finger moved to the trigger.
“What will I tell Tallulah when she grows up?” he sneered. “How will I explain that her mother didn’t even love her enough to live?”
I wanted to yell out but was afraid to move. I felt tears rolling down the side of my face into my ears.
“I guess I could lie and say suicide runs in your family. She’d never know. Maybe one day I’ll even tell her that Aunt Julie killed herself.” He laughed. Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead, and then his eyes grew cold. “Or you could start doing what you’re told.”
He pulled the gun from my mouth, traced my neck, my breasts, and my stomach with it, like a lover’s caress. I squeezed my eyes shut, and all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.I’m never going to see my child grow up. My body tensed in anticipation.
“Open your eyes.”
He moved away, the gun still pointed at me.
I exhaled, and a sigh of relief escaped.
“Put on the outfit.”
“Whatever you want, just, please, put the gun away,” I managed in a whisper.
“Don’t make me say it again.”
I slid from the bed and retrieved the bag from the chair where I’d thrown it. My hands were shaking so hard that I kept dropping the bustier. Finally, I figured out how to get it on.
“Don’t forget the collar.”
I fastened the leather collar around my neck.
“Make it tighter,” he commanded.
I reached back and moved the collar one more notch. My heart was pounding, and I struggled to steady my breathing. Maybe if I just did what he said, he’d put the gun away.
A lazy smile appeared, and he walked toward me, grabbed the metal ring on the collar, and pulled hard. I jerked forward. He pulled harder until I fell to the floor.
“Get on your knees.”
I did as I was told.
“That’s a good little slave.” Walking over to his closet, he snatched a necktie and brought it over. “Put your hands behind your back.” He wrapped the tie around my wrists and knotted it tight, then stood back and held his hands as if pretending to frame a picture. “Not quite right.” He walked back to the closet and came out carrying a ball.
“Open wide.” He stuffed the soft plastic gag in my mouth.
“That’s nice.” He put the gun on his nightstand and, grabbing his cell phone, started snapping pictures. “This will make a delightful scrapbook.” He undressed and walked toward me. “Let me replace that ball with something else.” He pushed himself inside my mouth and snapped more pictures. He pulled away and looked at me with derision. “You don’t deserve me. Do you know how many women would love to put their lips on me, and you act like it’s a chore?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. You stay there and think about what it means to be a good wife, how to prove to me that you find me desirable. Maybe I’ll let you pleasure me in the morning.” He got in bed. “And don’t even think of moving until I give you permission—or the next time, I’ll pull the trigger.” He slid the gun under his pillow.