Margaritas ante porcos, as it were.

Sunday, 01 September, Year 5 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

Motto : Oh my fucking god! A porn story with a twist. Dude! This can happen!

I watched my wife of ten years as she entered the den where I was working on a report for work. She was looking very good. Grace wore a light brown leather skirt with a pale yellow shell and Cardigan sweater set over brown boots with high stiletto heels. Her body is amazing, and is centerfold quality for Playboy. I am very proud of her.

I smiled at her, "You look good enough to eat sweetie! Say hi to Jan for me."

She walked over and kissed my cheek. I pulled back and glanced at her. "Is that all I get? Are you going to another one of your usual Tuesday night meetings tonight?"

"No, tonight is a field trip instead of a meeting."

"Have fun, what time will you be back?"

"I guess about ten, as usual. I love you dear, go to bed early and get some rest, you work too hard." Grace is a stay at home wife since I had to leave my overseas post and return to good old boring Ohio. I guess it's a step up from being a stay alone wife, at any rate. They gave me a cushy sales manager position for some sort of manufacturer of industrial reverse osmosis systems, which I suppose is a fancy way of saying shit churning. Applied politics. The service always takes care of its own and all that. Anyway, I have no grounds to complain, it's very good money for very little work, and pretty much no risk at all. No risk at all whatsoever. None at all. We primarily sell to the military and municipal water plants, which I guess has the added benefit of allowing them to keep a good eye on me, but hey - that's recession proof. Just like death, which also happens to be recession proof.

Ever since coming back I was on a kick trying to give Grace anything she wanted. Truth of the matter is, I liked her. Great kid, sort-of innocent like. Maybe a little naive, which many consider very becoming. Or maybe a little more naive than that. I thought we had a good solid marriage at any rate, even if our sex life had slowed a little in the last few years. That's kind of normal, right ? However, in the last few months it had dropped to zero. She always had some excuse.

Then the thought of it hit me like a ton of bricks : how lovely my wife was dressed to be going to a women's-whatever meeting. And they're taking a field trip? A field trip to where? Venus ? Or is it perhaps a solo shuttle to Mars... We had talked about it before, her story was that they basically sit around and yak about the relationships between men and women in marriage. All aspects of the relationships : social interactions, medical problems, sexual relations, and financial problems. Daytime soaps improv, basically. Where the hell would you go for a field trip for any of that?

I called up Jan's husband to see what he knew. Frank picked up right away and I tried to slide the smalltalk towards the meetings the girls were attending. He seemed surprised that I didn't know all about it, and quite reluctant to talk about it. I asked where they went on a field trip. He said he didn't know about field trips and that they were going on a training demonstration tonight and would be home late. I asked what kind of training they were getting and he was very evasive about it. I asked where it was taking place and he was hesitant to tell me anything. Finally, he said, "Mike, if Grace wants you to know anything she will tell you about it."

"What? What is so secret you can't tell me about it?"

"Mike, just drop it please. Ask Grace, I have said too much already, I don't want to get in trouble."

This was getting pretty much too nutty for my taste. You know what they called me back in the days ? It was "the rat". The rat, on account of what they saw as my supernatural ability to sniff out incoming. God forbid I'd catch the flu and have to suddenly cancel anything : nobody'd go for the life of them, no matter what. People get superstitious I guess. On the other hand... Grace never lied to me, about anything. Trust me, never means never. I'd have noticed. I keep track.

So what's one to do when mystery's afoot ? Audit the money trail, of course. Minutes later it became apparent we're a little poorer than we should have been. Not much, but still : eleven thousand one hundred dollars. What in the actual, loving fuck!

Eleven thousand one hundred, that's what, 28 in binary right ? 28 whats ? It could be a shade of black, but so what of it. XXVIII, which meant nothing to me. I shook my hand trying to chase the bad habits away. Nonsense. Hogwash. Poppycock. It's a good routine, by the way, if you're trying to clear your smeller take a nice deep breath of fresh ground coffee, if you're trying to clear your thinker try and say nonsense as many ways as you can. Relaxing exercise.

I thought about Frank, my brother-in-law. We had little in common, but we were always friendly. Basically he was a mild mannered wimp, who was pussy whipped by Jan, Grace's sister. There was little doubt about who wore the pants in that family. I guess society indeed would be impossible without the good offices of womanhood. At any rate any sort of social interraction between me and Frank'd have been impossible on the face of it, and yet we just had spent ten minutes chatting on the phone earlier. Weird what women do to you huh. And they don't even need to be trying, or consciously have much of a clue. Indeed not, naive works lots better, doesn't it.

I spotted Grace's laptop and immediately leaped at it. The suddenness surprised me. What's powering all this, some sort of long-held train of thought trying to bubble to the surface ? The sheer inanity of trying to live in Ohio as a human being ? She spent a lot of time with that thing, it became quickly apparent. You can tell if you look carefully, by how everything's worn, by how grease is layered... I walked to her desk and turned her Dell on. Her desktop had two or three icons that I didn't recognize. I clicked on one of them and a sign in page appeared, expecting to be fed a username and a password. I tried the others and found the same thing.

Her browser cache had been religiously purged, of anything and everything. Not even the old CSS shading trick did anything. Remarkably good security practices for some gal that I couldn't ever get off Windows already. I recalled her browsers being perpetually on the brink of toppling, one half kilobyte memory leak away from going up in flames. So clean, suddenly ? How ? She never asked me as much as a word on it, never even mentioned the topic. A little strange, wouldn't you say ?

I'm paranoid. Not a little, not the rest of the bubblewrap bullshit. I'm paranoid. So are you. We all are. The alternative is being a vegetable, and god damn it if I wouldn't much rather be paranoid. So, what the hell is going on here ? Is this a reportable event, even ? I tried to relax and consider these things from a distance, as if happening to someone else. So the little missus is seeing someone on the side, that much is pretty much a given. But that someone has a need of money in very specific dollar amounts, and a penchant for thorough computer security.

This isn't about her, I thought to myself. This is not about her, this is about me. Somebody's after me. But who ? And why ? And what the fuck already!

I put a RAT and a keylogger on her system. None of the "hacking" crowd stuff. Military grade. Undetectable, unless you're actually in the business. Soon enough we'll know at least on that score, if nothing else. For good measure I called up an old friend, about as retired as me, about as fucking sick of it as me from the tone of him. When he heard I want a tracker he suddenly went lively, you'd think I was asking him to help me fingertrap Mata Hari. He threw in a wiretap and a bunch of other stuff just out of sheer, giddy excitement. Somehow I managed to extricate myself, half expecting explosives and Stens to be coming out of his mouth next.

Grace was home about midnight and entered our room quietly. I was snoring peacefully. She took off her sweater and her skirt, put them away, then fumbled for the drawers. A nightie ? No, not a nightie, a pair of panties. She put on a pair of panties, fresh from the drawer. Over her current pair ? Perhaps not. She got into her nightie, her very plain white cotton nightie to go with her very plain, white cotton fresh panties, snuggled into me and went to sleep almost instantly. I lay there, watching her breathe in the moonlight. Her tiny ear, her shapely neck, that head belabouring under the delusion of independent agency... I went downstairs and poured myself a cup of coffee.

Tuesday evening I was playing something on the computer when Grace said she was off to her meeting. Something good, something for adults, with PvP and scamming and corporate espionage and all that good stuff. I looked at her as she kissed me goodbye, "Are you going to be late again tonight? I don't like going to bed with you still out on the town."

"I may be a bit late, I hope to be home before you go to sleep."

I went on a rampage, blowing people's ships up one after another. Ruining people's day with methodical, ruthless efficiency. Who knows how many overweight teenage geeks cried that evening, late evening, night and early morning. Grace returned home about three thirty. She was surprised I was still awake. She stared at me, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

I looked at her, "I think that's my line, honey." I stated in a saccharine tone. "Where the hell have you been at this hour? Is this what time you usually get home and find me asleep?" I continued in much warmer tones, before turning the overhead light on.

Much to my nonplussed unsurprise, she was not the impeccably dressed woman who had left that evening. Her makeup was gone, her clothing in slight disarray, as if she had dressed hastily. I walked to her and leaned forward for a kiss. She hesitated but eventually turned her head. I could smell alcohol on her breath. I stepped back and said, "Let's hear the story. I think it is fair to tell you that right now I think we are well down the road toward a divorce."

Her jaw dropped. "NO! Hell no Mike! I love you, I don't want a divorce."

"My name's not really Mike", I said coldly. "Spill it, sister. Right here, right now and all of it. Where have you been and what is going on?"

She was a little dazed at my Mike comment, but continued with this face of a doe getting slowly run over by a steamroller "I don't love anyone but you Mike and that is God's truth."

"Fine. It won't bother you to take off your panties and hand them to me, will it?"

He eyes grew wide, "What?"

"Your panties." I said with a demanding gesture.

"Wait a minute Mike, calm down. Let me fix us a drink and relax a minute then we can talk calmly about this without yelling at each other."

"Fine! Just don't get out of my sight and don't make sudden moves."

"I have no reason to do that, you know me better than that, I am too fastidious to wear dirty panties if that is what you expect to find."

"No, actually, I expect to find nothing at all. You're stark naked underneath, are you."

She said nothing but got busy with the drinks. I looked out the window. Ridiculous, what life experience makes out of people. So what's the big deal, she ran into a highschool flame and fooled around a little, why does it have to be such a federal case in the first place ? How are people supposed to live like that ? Well... it has to be such a federal case because history... the history she doesn't know. The history she may not legally, or for that matter sanely know. She wasn't there, after all, how's she to know ? What's she to know ?

She came back with the drinks. My Captain and water tasted pretty good. She watched me take a few sips and put her drink down. Actually, it tasted pretty off. She came and knelt beside me. "Honey I do love you, I will always love you. You are the sweetest and most loving husband in the world. I want to grow old with you and have you beside me forever." She kissed me gently on my lips.

I felt a little funny. Then everything went black for a second. I couldn't figure out what had happened. I was still sitting in a chair but now a cup of coffee was in front of me. I still felt a bit groggy and tried to reach for the coffee. I couldn't move my hand. It was restrained. My left hand was restrained too, so were my feet. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to think of where the heck this was. Then I heard a chair scrape and opened my eyes. Ohio! Ohio ?!

I saw Jan, my sister-in-law. She smiled, "Are you feeling better now Mike?" then I looked around and saw Grace and Frank. They were looking at me. Grace leaned toward me and placed a straw in my coffee. "Try a sip of your coffee Honey, it will help clear your head." I leaned forward and took a sip and it did taste reasonably coffee-ish.

I looked at Grace, "Your sister makes awful coffee you know. Or is that just the strychnine ?"

A tear ran down her cheek, "I promise no harm will come to you, no matter what."

"Thank you Grace, I guess that promise is about as good as all the rest of them." She turned and ran from the room. I turned to Frank and Jan, "I guess the two of you know what is going on don't you?"

Frank said, "Yeah! We know what is going on. You are. . ."

Jan had snapped her fingers and he shut his mouth instantly. Jan glared at Frank. "Keep your mouth shut, unless you are spoken to." She said to me, "You will be told what is going on when your wife wants you to know. If you keep your mouth shut you may learn something, for now just believe what she said, she does truly love you. She wants no harm to come to you."

I looked back and forth between the two of them. Grace came back in the room. She looked at me. "Mike, please sit back and relax. We need to get things in perspective here. I belong to a group of men and women that believe that the present traditional relationships in a marriage do not accurately reflect the true needs of the modern woman. We feel that women should be in complete control of all aspects of the marriage. We believe that the husband needs to be completely subservient to the wife."

I wondered what in the hell she was talking about. "Say what ?!"

Jan frowned, Grace continued, "The division of household chores should be determined by the wife. In a marriage of today, the wife is in effect the CEO of the home and thus the marriage. The husband's job is to provide the income necessary to sustain the family according to the best of his abilities. The husband has a secondary duty to provide sexual services to the wife according to the best of his abilities. The husband also performs other functions such as yard work and home improvements, again, according to the best of his abilities. Any of the functions he performs may not be completely satisfactory to the wife and if she requires a higher standard than he can produce she may certainly require additional help, for instance, a broken pipe in the home may require the services of a plumber.

"As in any functional unit a chain of command must be established for obvious reasons, someone must be in total control. The instant obedience and respect for authority are required of the husband. Thus, there must be a system of punishments and rewards to enforce this authority. The woman must use the only real power she has, her sex. Each husband must be required to wear a chastity device to ensure his obedience. Mike, honey, you have been fitted with a standard penis cage that has been locked in place. I have the code that will permit the removal of the cage. We are told that it is very comfortable unless you start to get an erection. The bigger the erection the more painful it becomes. In practice, it actually is so painful as to really make an erection impossible."

I couldn't believe my ears. Has my wife lost her mind?

She smiled at me, "It won't change our lives that much dear. We will still be together, I will always love you."

I looked at them, "May I ask a question or two?"

Grace replied, "Of course you can dear. What do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters I'd like to know what the fuck are you on about! Have you completely lost it, woman ? What "CEO"! You've never been as much as a VP of anything in your entire life. What the fuck do you think, life works like the daytime soaps, everyone's a very important businessman on account of their title saying so and them spending their time talking nonsense like the clueless broads that watch that crap ? If I gave you a list of responsibilities you couldn't distinguish the CEO from the Chief Counsel." I stopped for breath, amused contempt and complete wtf struggling and mingling in my head. These people!

"What "total control" ? Do you have the faintest hint of a clue what the problems with that are ? Why do you think the army general staff doesn't simply pipe audio in the headsets of every single soldier, directly ? Why do you think they have field commanders and platoon leaders and all that crap ? For lack of anyone having come along to figure out this brilliant notion of total control before you two muppets ? Your day's work consists of pushing three buttons other people put on gear other people made and you have no fucking clue as to how it all works, yet you're bored and figure yourself ready to step in the shoes of the CEO of the Universe ? Are you aware I could buy, not rent and certainly not marry, but buy a woman to cook better than you ever will and shine the floors with a rag, on her hands and knees each and every day for the rest of her life ? And be thankful for it, and count herself fortunate, which wouldn't be all that far off actually. Are you aware it'd cost less than your shoes, you ungrateful twit ? Not all of them either, just the current pair you're wearing. What's your claim to fame, that you happened to be born on the west bank of Licking River rather than on the east bank of the Jamni ? Doesn't sound like much of a claim you know. Obvious reasons indeed!"

Grace ran off. Jan was livid and barely managing to control her trembling. She hissed "Let me tell him how we further enforce our control over our men. Our organization has a number of men we refer to as 'Bulls'. They are on call to enforce our desires. They are all handsome, large, rugged young men. They are well trained in martial arts. They are available to help train you to become an obedient and happy submissive husband. They also provide relief and comfort to wives who are deprived of sex because of the need to discipline the husband. Do you understand all of that Mike?"

"Yeah! I sure do. Your grand design is to force me to become a sissy cuckold so my wife can fuck other guys whenever you want her to. That about it?"

Jan smiled, "That is a side benefit, that's true. Actually all the husbands learn to enjoy watching and assisting their wife to enjoy the pleasure of the services of a superior man. All of the bulls are required to be very well endowed."

The door bell rang and Jan looked at Frank, "Get the door Frank, that should be two of the Bulls now." Frank hurried off. He returned and I heard him say as they entered, "Here we are Master Ali and Master Gideon, Mistress Jan is in here, is there anything I can do for either of you?"

"Where is Mistress Grace? Is this the new Cuck?"

Both black men were huge. One of them walked over to me and grabbed my chin in his big hand. He turned my face up and looked in my eyes, "Me and the other bulls are going to be fucking your wife as a regular thing from now on, you got a problem with that?"

I softly said, "No Sir Master. How can I assist you?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Frank give Jan a high five.

"Ok Cuck, come on upstairs to your old bedroom and help get your wife ready for the fucking of her life."

"Yes Sir! I would like to see that, but I am restrained."

He reached down and untied my wrists and ankles. "OK, Sissy, get going." I hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom where Grace sat on the side of the bed in a lovely sheer gown. She looked startled to see me. The two bullsh...ahem guys looked at me, "Well, get started, we don't have all day."

I held up my hand.

"What is it Sissy?"

"Please Master, I have never done this before, could I have Sissy Frank demonstrate how it should be done so I can do it correctly next time?"

"Sissy Frank, get your ass up here and show the new cuck how to prepare his woman for us."

I heard Frank yell, "Yes Master, here I come."

Frank entered with Jan behind him. He looked at me, "Get some clean towels and put them beside the bed, then get your video camera set up to film this session. Hurry, we must not keep the Masters waiting."

I brought the towels and went to my closet and got my video camera and put it on the dresser, all the while wondering how fucking stupid can these people be ? I went back in the closet. When I came out Frank was lifting the gown over Grace's head, exposing her lovely shape. She looked at me and I thought I saw a tear run down her cheek. Then she smiled up at one of the big black men. She looked back at me, I said, "Grace, are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Both dudes glared at me. She looked into my eyes and softly said "I guess so."

"Guess less.", I said sternly, pulling my Mossberg 500 from behind my back. A nice little piece, the Mossberg. They call it the Persuader, and I guess it can be pretty damned persuading indeed. "OK, everyone sit down, NOW! Just be cool, and maybe I won't hurt you too bad. I am very good with this gun, I have to state in the interest of your safety. I will have no trouble shooting the cock and balls right off of you." Out of the corner of my eye I saw the muscles shift inside one of the black guys, so I turned towards him and pointed the gun at his face. "Hey dummy! I was lucky to escape and save my wife from a brutal rape, too bad both of you will have your heads blown off and Jan and Frank will get shot by accident in the confusion. Damned shame!"

Frank moved in front of Jan, "Mike, please don't hurt Jan. She didn't hurt anybody."

"Bullshit. She's hurt you plenty, you're just too thick to realise it, you walking exercise in Stockholm syndrome reenaction you! I'll give you this, it does take gut to stand in front of that sack of shit with delusions of CEOism. Fucking waste of a bullet your true love is. I think you wasted your love, Frankie. You wasted it, as I did, perhaps as we all do. Gotta find women with more of a clue next time. Somehow."

I was rudely interrupted by my shotgun blasting out of my hand. My brain caught up with what was happening as the recoil was fading, one tall, bulky muscular dude dropped to the floor screaming like a bull with the clap. I waited for his squirming to come to a stop, aimed carefully and blew out his other knee. "Hope you've been paying attention to what the women were doing, Chuck. Not that many virgin guys with no legs in prison, from what I hear."

I coldly pointed the shotgun at the other guy. He was pale and shaking at the joints like a leaf in the wind.

"What's your name, boy ?"

"Tr-tr-trr-tre-ev-ev-evo-n-n." he managed.

"What's that ?" I yielled out, military style.

"Tre-evon! sir!" he caught up on the basic underlying structure, much like an ant in the gutter might catch on to straw. How incredibly little a straw is, and yet what a great boon in the gutter.

"You been through boot camp, Trevon ?"

"Yes! Sir!"

"What for ?"

A pause.

"What for!"

"Seals sir!"

"Seals ? What the fuck are you doing here then! "

Another pause.

"I say..." I started to yell, but he interrupted me with a very soft, rather teary "I... I don't know" as he was falling to his knees.

"You don't know! Don't they teach you kids anything anymore ?" He just gazed at me, but I could tell. The simple fact of the matter is that no, they don't teach them kids anything anymore. Nobody's teaching Trevon anything anymore, nobody's teaching Jan anything anymore, women and children abandoned in a huge pile of nothing at all while we're gone over there doing fundamentally pointless stupid shit among foreigners we don't give a rat's ass about nor should we. All the meanwhile Frank's left at home holding the train of CEOs in their own head that can't, on the strength of their own ability, keep one drugged, tied up guy subdued. I shot ops for less idiocy, but then again that was over there, not over here.

"Grace, pick up the phone and dial 911. NOW! Before I think about what you wanted me to do for your amusement."

Grace sobbed, "I don't know what you were supposed to do."

"Yeah, right. You don't know, you just work here or something. I wasn't supposed to suck the cock of your "bull" and get him all nice and slippery for you, and then get you ready for him by licking your pussy and getting it nice and slippery for him so I could take my hand and put his cock in your pussy for him. It's just a fiction. I guess you would have gotten a good laugh from that, right?"

She stared at me with her mouth wide open. Then she said, "I never thought you would do that, they said you would willingly do what they wanted. They said you wanted this too. They said this would relax you and we would spend more time together, that you wanted to serve me. I never needed anyone but you Mike."

"You took out about 12k from our savings, did you?"

"No, I gave them five checks for fifty each. I didn't think you would notice."

"Aren't you a bright Chief Financial Officer on top of everything else. You didn't think I'd notice ? How do you think that dough gets there in the first place ? Well, babe, your dumbass friends took out two checks for $50, two for $500 and two for $5,000. They boosted your checks, and if you only gave them five duplicated one. Now dial that number."

"But Mike..."

"SHUT UP AND DIAL THAT NUMBER! Listen you putz, I am a corpse looking for a place to drop when this is over. I tried this entire "normal life" thing, and guess what ? It's just the same bullshit but doled out in smaller doses over more time. It has about the same appeal as an offer to have someone coming to take a crap on your windshield every time you stop at a light. I am sorely tempted to kill the whole rotten bunch of you, starting with that retard of a sister of yours. You don't have the sense to get out of a paper bag, yourself, but at least on your own you have the sense not to get into the paper bag in the first place, which is a lot more than I can say for her. Actually... aw, fuck it!"

Jan flew about five feet in the air, landed on the wall opposite and slowly slid down on it over a film of her own blood. The huge gaping hole in her chest was covered with the pinkish foam busted lungs let out. She had a look of pure horror on her face, something like out of the movies.

Trevon testified for me, going into a lot of detail about their attempted robbery. It certainly helped the cops sort things out, attempted robbery, involuntary manslaugther, suspended sentence. Grace and I never spoke again other than through the mediation of lawyers. I settled half the house on her along with a little money, she had a nervous breakdown or two but eventually recovered, more or less. Frank didn't, however, he went down pretty hard. They tried everything on him, from electroshock to all sorts of experimental drugs, but he never again saw the outside of a mental institution. Perhaps that's for the best.

This story is a rewrite of something found on Literotica, which is the Internet's foremost archive of purple prose relating to sexuality. A sort of bad fanfic of God, I guess. I've kept the first few lines unchanged for flavour and contrast.

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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9 Responses

  1. I was lucky to escape and save my wife from a brutal rape

    one of your usual Tuesday night meetings tonight

    So if you never saw it but you're seeing it for the first time, afore it never happened and moreover it's rape?

  2. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Sunday, 1 September 2013

    Your reading comprehension continues to shock and amaze.

  3. She goes each night to get fucked because she wants to. Comes home with two guys from the multitude who integrated her into absolute, last nite in da field. Husband says it's rape.

    Ok, rape it be.

  4. Illustrative`s avatar
    Monday, 2 September 2013

  5. KarinDiSeduzione`s avatar
    Wednesday, 18 May 2016

    You asked for my opinion via pm but now refuse pms. So you will receive my respond via public forum. I did not like the story. Very poorly written. Illogical happenstances within the plot.

  6. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Wednesday, 18 May 2016

    Don't be afraid of going into detail.

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