Wife Enslaved Ch. 01

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Mistaken for a slave.
8.1k words
4.25
210k
167

Part 1 of the 5 part series

Updated 08/28/2017
Created 09/27/2015
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Mistaken for a slave

Riana put on the outfit, and tried not to laugh. It was meant to impress her husband, or at least show willingness to play at satisfying him. He'd recently bought a slave girl, meaning their fragile relationship had finally broken. She decided to do something to save their marriage, by convincing him he didn't need the damn girl.

Over the last year or so their lives had diverged, with them hardly having time for each other. It was time to regain Adrian's interest, or lose her position in his life. He probably wouldn't divorce her, as it would be too embarrassing and expensive. Neither of them would want the social stigma of a messy divorce. Besides that, it would dent the luxury life style she had become accustomed to.

Instead, she was determined to rekindle their sex life. Hence the slave outfit being tried on. He would be back from a business trip later, and decided to try it out before he returned. As a mature, thirty-five year old woman, she was shapely and impressively attractive. She'd prepared herself at a fitness retreat, toning, and honing her figure in preparation. She felt at ease with her body, and was ready to play.

The staff had been dismissed, leaving her alone to receive Adrian. They could play at being master and slave for the whole weekend, without interruption. A servant sent the slave to their lodge in the country, to keep the nuisance out of the way. She hadn't met her and didn't want to, as she was bound to be young and attractive.

Looking in the mirror brought on a mood to play. Imagining being a slave, having to obey a master, had her pressing a hand tightly between her legs. The feeling of having all responsibility taken away, leaving her free to misbehave, was liberating. Having to satisfy a master, being helpless to resist, unable to say no to anything he demanded was erotic, and wonderfully arousing.

'No! No more. I must savour the moment he arrives home, and offer myself to my husband and master,' she giggled.

She felt young, attractive, and excited at the prospect of playing a naughty fantasy game. In the kitchen, she prepared a drink to steady her nerves. Maybe she wasn't so confident as first thought.

'You! I need breakfast,' Jimmy demanded. 'Something for a sore head too.'

Riana swiftly turned, to see all of last nights' guests hadn't left after all. The surprise appearance shook her from the fantasies she'd been contemplating. Her mouth hung open, while her head caught up with the unexpected.

'Get a move on, slave,' Jimmy demanded.

He couldn't shout as his head pounded. A tall glass of orange, then a coffee, followed by food, would do the trick.

'I didn't know anyone was here,' she lamely said.

'Evidently I am. Your master rejected my business proposal last night, so I drowned my sorrows and slept late. Now I'm suffering a hangover, as well as the loss of a profitable deal,' he complained.

She figured out who this must be. It was the son of an important investor her husband dealt with. Yesterday evening she'd kept clear of the business dinner, while they discussed their boring deals. The servants had been left to entertain Adrian and his guests.

What was she to do? Immodestly showing off her body to a stranger was dreadful. Adrian was sure to find out, as young men always bragged to their friends. This young man would embellish the encounter with a semi-naked woman, making it into something it wasn't. Maybe he would tell an exaggerated tale to his father, which would get back to her husband.

'Well? Get a move on, slave,' he chivvied her into motion.

While trying to pull the diaphanous one-piece costume together to hide her body, she scampered to a cupboard.

'I heard Mr Reagan had bought a slave. You look good, though a bit old for a slave girl,' he sniggered.

Opening cupboards to find something to cook, hadn't been a decision, it was a reaction. She'd just responded to his firm order on the spur of the moment, and continued to go along with it. Pretending to be a slave was an option. Though, it was hard to think of another way to avoid the embarrassment of admitting who she really was. The important thing was to save face, for her, as well as for her husband.

Riana found condiments in the first cupboard opened, so selected what he might want. With a coffee cup in one hand, and a small tray of sauces in the other, she leaned over the table. Before she could lay them before him, her breasts swung out the top.

'That's very nice, but I'd rather have breakfast first,' he quipped.

Bent over him with her breasts on show, stunned her. As though in slow motion, she watched his hands approach her breasts. He pushed them back into the top. She quickly dropped the cup and tray onto the table and retreated.

Her eyes were unseeing, as she opened and closed cupboards. There was no turning back now. She would have to play this dire game through to the end. Hell! What was she to do, if her husband returned before this lout left the house.

One thing at a time. Feed him, and he would go. A young man had things to do, and places to go. He didn't look as though he would hang around. Not like her breasts had. Shit!

'Stop thinking about that, and get on with it,' she silently admonished herself.

'Are you cursing me under your breath?' Jimmy asked.

'No, sir,' Riana quickly answered.

The fridge was well stocked, so at last she began the process. The microwave set itself according to the food pushed in. Different parts of the dish were zapped according to cooking times. She often wondered if they needed a cook. There were social and government obligations, so they had to provide jobs for those who suffered in the financial crisis. It was all a part of their social scene, and had to be seen to be done. Hence the household servants, and the recent fashionable addition, a household slave.

'Make sure the eggs are free range, and the bacon isn't animal fat, slave,' he sullenly directed.

'Yes, sir,' she sighed.

Who in the twenty-second century used animals for food? He was just commanding her for the sake of it, to make him feel superior. She clicked her tongue in exasperation.

'I don't like your attitude, slave,' he goaded her.

Oh God! She'd just noticed her nipples were showing large and dark through the filmy silk. She wondered what else was being shown off to this arrogant young man. The lighting in her bedroom was subdued, when she tried the outfit on. The slave costume was meant for Adrian's bedroom, not the brightly lit kitchen.

'Does your master know you run around the house so lewdly?' he asked.

'Yes, sir, err, no, sir,' she stammered.

The slits up the sides of the pantaloons revealed tantalising glimpses of her legs. She now realised the horrible baggy pants were translucent, showing off everything. It was difficult walking around the kitchen while keeping her thighs pressed together.

'What's wrong with you? You're walking like a pregnant duck. I've a good mind to tell your master how useless you are,' he admonished her.

'Please don't, sir. I'm trying my best, sir,' she simpered.

At thirty-five it was infuriating being ordered around by this young nineteen year old know it all. Especially as it was her house. It was galling having to act like a humble slave girl. She could hardly be called a girl, but then all female slaves were called girl, whatever their age.

'I've finished, slave. You can clear away, and fix some fresh coffee,' Jimmy ordered.

'Yes, sir,' she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Disguising her emotions was paramount. It was obvious he would react badly to an angry outburst from a slave. He'd grown up after the fall of the banking empire, so was used to having everything he wanted, while others had nothing. He was young and arrogant, expecting everyone to fall in line with his requirements.

'Your coffee, sir,' she said.

She wanted to tell him - what did your last slave die of, overwork? She bit her tongue, not wanting to put him in a bad mood. If the situation deteriorated, all would have to be revealed. Not her body, but her position in this house would have to be revealed.

'No milk, slave,' he instructed.

Who the hell did he think he was? His father was an important man, but he had a lot to learn. He should be made to earn respect, not just demand it.

'Of course, sir, sorry sir,' she said, trying to hide the bitterness from her voice.

Riana realised she was keeping herself in place, as a slave, rather than him keeping her enslaved. She wondered if it had something to do with the fantasy he interrupted. While she tidied up, he was watching the financial news, as though he were the master of the house, and she, a mere lackey. She shook her head to rid it of the incongruous thought.

All finished, she reached for the coffee cup. The meal was complete, and he could be on his way. She on the other hand would be left here, facing embarrassment, and a sense of having been wrongly used. The idea of being wrongly used, sent a thrill through her body.

'I've not finished that,' he complained.

His sudden movement knocked the coffee dregs over his shirt. Her hand was on the cup, so she was to blame. A woman, and especially a slave, was used to taking the blame, and so she admitted it.

'Sorry, sir,' she automatically responded.

Back with a cloth, she dabbed at the shirt.

'Stop that, you're making it worse. You clumsy slave, you've ruined it,' Jimmy shouted.

'It was your fault!' she blurted out.

She couldn't take any more of his overblown ego. She opened her mouth to blast him out of her house, and to hell with the consequences. If her husband sulked for the next six months, so be it.

'Whoa! What you doing?' she cried out.

The kitchen floor swung up to meet her face, only just halting short of a collision. Riana couldn't believe she was upside down, over the boy's lap. A heavy slap to her bottom drove home what was happening, shocking her mind into quickly catching up.

'Stop it! I'll tell Adrian. Stop it now!' she cried out.

'Take your punishment, slave. Or, I'll tell Adrian you've been a careless slave girl,' he shouted.

That stopped the complaining. The last thing she wanted was for her husband to hear she had been over his knee, and spanked. Having anyone find out would be humiliating enough to keep her quiet. As soon as she accepted this dire spanking, it would satisfy his ego, and he would stop.

'Sorry, sir, please don't hurt this humble slave,' she whined.

Riana hoped the pathetic voice would stop him.

The filmy pantaloons did nothing to cushion the impact. The last stroke was upon her bare bottom, where the material gave way. It wasn't the sting that had her capitulating, it was the indignity of being spanked by a young man.

As she stood before him, with head suitably bowed, she felt cowed. The fight had been spanked out of her.

'What do you say, slave?' he demanded.

'Sorry, sir. Sorry for being a clumsy slave girl,' she simpered.

All her remaining effort went into refraining from rubbing her sore bottom, and not bursting into tears. Concentrating on that, left her bereft of thought over how to handle this calamitous situation.

Damn him! The sooner he went the better. She would avoid the social events her husband arranged, from never wanting to see this callous youth again. It would be easy enough, the way things were with their marriage. He concentrated on business, while she attended charity committees, and fund raising functions.

'You look suitably chastened, girl. You needed putting in your place. Do I need to tell your owner?' Jimmy harshly asked.

'No, sir! Please, sir, please don't tell Master Adrian, sir,' she pathetically spoke.

It wasn't an act now. She meant it. Even the grovelling was genuine. A little more grovelling was called for, to keep him quiet, and satisfy his overblown self-importance.

Were all men like that? Easily satisfied by a few words of submission? Perhaps that was how they reacted together, to save coming to blows. One bowing to the other, showing who was top dog in the pack. A million years as a hunting pack, following the dominant leader, couldn't be thrown off easily. This was the twenty-second century, but a few thousand years of civilisation wasn't so influential as it seemed.

'Tuck your breasts back in,' he inconsequently spoke.

'Yes, sir, sorry, sir,' she lamely said, while trying to keep them under control.

'You've kept yourself well shaved, I see,' he smirked.

'Yes, sir. Oh!' she cut off the response, on realising what he meant.

The boy could see her shaved pussy! Damn the stupid outfit. She'd bought an expensive slave set, and the silk had been designed to be ripped off in the bedroom, not the kitchen. The sirik chains that came with the outfit, didn't have to be worn, and now that decision was regretted. At least the leather wrist and ankle cuffs kept some of the material in place.

'Nice, very nice,' he smiled, while looking directly between her legs.

Riana felt so humiliated, it was a wonder she didn't run away and hide. Instead, she stood before him with head bowed, looking pathetic. Only now he'd mentioned it, did she feel her sex opening up to him. The fantasies she'd been thinking about had almost come true. She had a master! Why did it have to be this damnable bastard, instead of her husband

'Oh! God! Please don't let him get any ideas about me,' she silently pleaded.

She was practically naked, showing off her body to an arrogant young man, who was used to taking what he wanted. He could see her sex was ready. Though not for him, it was just the circumstances, truly nothing to do with him. The way he was looking at her, studying her, was frightening. She told herself to run and hide, yet stood there immobile like a frightened rabbit.

A communications light flashed in a corner of the screen. The screen was the latest gadget, taking up one wall of the kitchen. She could see it in a mirror, and groaned at the identity of the caller. The small image in the corner of the screen was her husband!

'Not now, now like this!' she inwardly cried.

The usual greetings were murmured. No friendliness between those two, she thought. Between her and the door was that large new screen. She was trapped in a corner of the kitchen, not daring to move, or make a sound. If she'd only been able to escape, to change into something decent, it would be something. The only thing holding the getup together were the chains, and leather cuffs.

'Got up late, hope you don't mind. I'll be going soon. Any chance of changing your mind over the proposal?' Jimmy asked.

'No, afraid not,' came the immediate reply.

'I'll try Fotherington Investments. It might mean my father favours them rather than your corporation in future, but I'm sure you can withstand the loss,' Jimmy said.

There was silence from the other end of the line, except the ticking of Adrian's brain.

'Of course, you could do me a favour instead,' Jimmy offered.

'What's that,' Adrian heavily sighed.

'You could lend me your slave for the week,' Jimmy said.

Riana silently screamed at her husband not to agree. Her whole body vibrated between action and inaction. How could she dance naked in front of the screen, before her husband and that boy? It was as frustrating as hell, as she desperately needed to demand a refusal to this horrible suggestion, yet she was unable to find the strength to reveal her presence.

A little dance of annoyance was carried out in a corner of the kitchen. Back and forth her feet pattered, trying to generate the power to assert herself. They were talking about her, as a commodity to be traded.

Eventually, after much talking, she heard the damning words of agreement.

'Alright. I'll send the document of funding for your acceptance, and you can borrow the slave. You'll need the paperwork, and to enter the destination, before taking the slave away. The slave papers are in the top draw of my desk. Keep to the rules, or the deal is off,' Julian stated.

'Sure, no problem. I won't be using it. It's just to show I'm doing my bit for society. I can't buy a slave, as I need all the funds at my disposal for this new project,' he reassured Adrian.

No! Her husband had just lent her to this arrogant bastard. It looked as though she would be serving this cretin for a whole week. He'd promised not to use her, and she knew what that meant. How nice of him! He wasn't going to fuck her, but instead, she would be humiliated by being flaunted as a slave girl. Shit! How was she to withstand a whole week at this damn boy's beck and call?

It was too late now, her husband had closed the deal, and rung off. Could she possibly dare reveal who she was. Her body had been exposed, but could she dispose of her self-respect by opening up to the cruellest ridicule. If it was revealed she was the wife, not a slave, a rumour would be exaggerated and spread like wildfire among the gossips. In their exclusive community, her name would be mud, and her standing would be dirt.

No! She felt so low, she couldn't do it. If he baulked the agreement, and tried anything on, she could walk out. Coming home with her tail between her legs would be terrible, but maybe it wouldn't come to that. She was an old woman in his eyes. She would be a cheap way of keeping his house in order. Oh! Shit! She would be his humble housemaid!

While she was quaking over her fate, he found the slave paperwork, and dialled for transport.

'I need to change. Please, sir,' she protested.

'No. Just go. You're not a free woman with the luxury of taking hours preparing to go out. You're a slave, so do as you are told,' he scolded her.

He slapped her sore ass, to quicken her step toward the waiting vehicle.

***

They sat in the auto-vehicle, letting it find its way to his house. Both were silent on the drive to his home. He was still hung over, and she was numb with fear. Anger took over from arousal as they neared their destination. She had been unwittingly trapped into this dire situation. In effect, her husband had leant her to this young man, to act as his household slave. Being a part of a contract, left her feeling small, insignificant, and angry. She couldn't totally blame Adrian, as he didn't know it was his wife he had given away.

Shit! She had to blame someone. If he hadn't bought that damn slave girl, which forced her to compete for him, she wouldn't have been mistaken for a slave. She wouldn't be facing the objectionable prospect of being a household slave, if it wasn't for his uncaring crassness. So it was his fault!

Standing in the entrance hall to his home, Riana trembled, unsure if it were from fear, or anger.

'I'll not have you running around in my house like a whore. Follow me to your quarters, where you can change into something decent, slave,' he stated.

The harsh tone of voice enforced the feeling of being small and insignificant. She caught sight of herself in a mirror, and felt humiliated. He was right, she looked woefully indecent. The top and pantaloons were falling off her body. What was left of the outfit, was see-through. In the privacy of a bedroom, with her husband, the outfit was sexy and alluring. Not here though. In the bright lights of a strangers home it was positively lewd.

'Yes, sir, sorry, sir,' she stammered.

She wanted to run and hide away in a corner somewhere, to cry over this terrible situation. How could she possibly tell him who she was, without adding to the humiliation. She meekly followed him up the grand curving staircase. A small door led to a less well decorated area of his home, where servants lived.

'In here, slave,' he ordered.

His commanding voice, pushed her further down, into feeling like a lowly slave.

'Take a shower, and I'll sort something out for you to wear,' he commanded.