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.

She typed it up as an email, because that was easier, and checked her texts one last time to see if she had anything else from Gray. But she hadn't, so she hit send on the email, and texted Sherry to let her know that she'd sent one. Nicole could remember email being at least semi-cool, but now it seemed a lot of young people hardly checked theirs, preferring texting and a bunch of apps.

She thought she might have still been using an AOL account when she was Sherry's age.

Then she went out for a walk. She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a t-shirt bra - nothing that would attract attention, but all things that hugged her curves. She wouldn't have any trouble attracting a man, she thought, if that was all she wanted. She was an attractive widow, and a well-off attractive widow at that. Terry had made a lot of money, and he had hoarded it. If demons didn't exist, she'd just put up a dating profile and enjoy herself. She wouldn't have to settle down, even. She could have several men, as long as she didn't try to make them be exclusive, and she wouldn't even be cheating on anyone.

Heck, human men were even more eager, now that so many of the cute young things were pining after big, red, and largely unobtainable men. She could take advantage of that to have her way. She could be a cougar, and probably have three different young men in her bed every week, actually taking advantage of the way demons had upset the balance. It wasn't the existence of demons that was the problem.

It was the fact that Gray was one. That was what moved the idea of her own demonic lover from unobtainable to barely possible, and it was what made it personal. She had to admit that she was jealous of Sherry. Proud, kind of, and glad that her daughter was getting to experience all the things, but still jealous.

Her walk took her past a sex store, and she peeked inside. She was no stranger to such places, but there was one difference from the last time she'd been in one - the dildos were bigger, on the average, and red was by far the favorite color. There were still some in the color of European flesh, of course, but they tended to be smaller. There was one large, very realistic one, and it had a tag on it. "75% off."

If you were a size queen, you probably were looking for a red cock these days, Nicole supposed. She was tempted to get a crimson dildo herself, but it really wasn't the size that made her attracted to demons. Size was something you bragged about to your girlfriends, but it didn't actually feel that much better, and most of the time she came from what happened to her clit, anyway.

But endurance? Now, that was something else entirely. And she already had a vibrator that had enough battery life to last long enough.

Her phone buzzed, and she yanked it out of her pocket so fast that it flew out of her hand and onto a display of vibrating cock rings. But it wasn't from Gray, or Sherry. It was just spam.

She walked out without buying anything.

When she got home, she had a short reply from Sherry, "Thanks, Mom. I'm leaving it up to Master."

Of course, Gray could see Sherry's messages, through her collar. Would she say something more, if he couldn't? No matter, she just had to wait.

The next day, Friday, she had an innocuous conversation with Sherry, just about what she was doing that evening, and whether she was caught up on the latest show or not. Apparently, there wasn't much television watching in the Harding household. Nicole admitted she was planning to stay in and binge watch an old show over the weekend.

At eight-twenty there was a knock on the door, and there was Gray, looking human, carrying a large sketch pad under his arm. She didn't know what to say, so she just stood aside to let him in.

He walked to the dining room table. "I remember, after I knew you were married, you had me come over one time and fuck you on the table. I guess Terry was out at a conference or something. And Sherry at school."

She nodded. "Yes. I remember."

"I shouldn't have done it."

"Probably not," she said. "I'm sorry." And yet, she'd jilled off to that memory a dozen times.

"Are you?"

She shrugged. "It was good for me," she said. "I'm no saint. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that. I didn't intend to bring it up, just the sight of it brought it all back. I can't pretend I didn't enjoy it at the time. Even if it made me sick to my stomach." He put the pad down on the table. "So the envelope you sent. Are you serious?"

She could save herself rejection by writing it all off as a joke. "It's all legal, and I signed it. It's up to you. Maybe you decide I'm not serious. Maybe you decide it's a joke. It's not a joke to me."

"I didn't come here to laugh at you."

"No, you're not that kind of person. But maybe you should, anyway. I don't know. I - put it all out there, Gray. Standing here, wearing clothes, I feel naked in front of you, and maybe that's what I wanted."

"There's no bringing back the past."

"No. And I wouldn't want to. That would involve Terry, and I'm better off without him."

"The present, my present, involves Betty, and Model, and Sherry."

Nicole nodded.

He flipped open the sketchbook, and for a moment she thought he was going to start drawing. But then she realized he wanted her to look. The picture he'd drawn showed Model and Sherry making out. They were naked.

"They like each other."

"Yes, I think so. But they were doing what I told them to, because they are my slaves. Being a slave is like that. Even if they hated each other, they would still do it."

"And if they refused?"

"I would shock them. That's the deal, and they would expect it. They would feel I'd let them down if I didn't, I think, that I wasn't taking their slavery seriously."

Nicole nodded.

"Do you want me to take what you offered seriously, Nicole?"

She looked at the picture. "Are you asking me if I would make love to Model for your amusement?"

"We'll start there."

"Yes."

He waited.

"Are you asking me if I would do the same, with my own daughter?"

He smiled at her.

"If my daughter wanted - well, I might. But if we - if we didn't, I would expect you to, um, take my slavery seriously. I understand it's excruciating, but every time you wanted it, every time you asked and I said no, I would want you to shock me. Not Sherry. Me. If that means I'm writhing on the floor, then that's the way it would have to be." She paused. "If you wanted a simple yes, I'm sorry, it's complicated. All I can be sure of is that I accept the consequences of saying no."

"What if I whored you out to someone else?"

"I'd expect I'd accept the consequences of saying yes."

"My wife?"

"Certainly. She wouldn't want me, though. I don't think she likes me."

"If I told you that you are to obey her orders, as well as mine?"

Nicole shrugged. "I signed away those choices, Gray. I would obey, or accept the consequences."

"Why, Nicole?"

"Because I'm a kinky girl? Because I love you, still, and always have?"

"Those sound like questions, not answers."

Nicole nodded. "Well, both of those things. But also, I know I wasn't entirely good for you. I hope there were some good moments, and I'm pretty sure you loved my blowjobs, but - I want to make the bad parts up to you, and I don't know any other way to do that. For atonement, if you will. The thought of you pressing the button and shocking me like - like a dog, or your bitch - well, it doesn't turn me on, Gray, but I want it, anyway. I want you to beat me and shock me and do whatever it takes until - until we're okay, and you can forgive me."

"You wouldn't take my signing those documents as forgiveness? Because I suspected that was what you wanted."

"I wouldn't take just signing those documents as forgiveness, Gray. But I'd take it as a step in that direction. A chance."

"To atone."

"Yes."

"And because you're a kinky girl."

"Yes."

"Take your shirt off," Gray said.

Nicole did. She wasn't wearing a bra, since she was just planning on watching television, and she was aware of how her breasts didn't stand up like they probably did the last time she'd been undressed in front of Gray, ten years ago. "Gray?"

"Yes." She noticed he seemed to be enjoying the view, whatever she thought about the passage of time.

"I cheated on Terry. With his knowledge, but still - well, and I guess I cheated you, too. I don't want to do any more cheating."

Gray nodded. "Your point?"

"I don't want to be helping you cheat on Betty, or - on my daughter, either. If that's what's going on, I need to say no, because I need to be better than the person I was last time around."

Gray smiled. "Those are good words. But I don't trust you, or them."

"I don't blame you. Don't trust me. But I only hope that you'll decide to find out. GPS, and recording everything I do, and all. Why trust when you can verify?"

"I'm not fucking you now, in any case. But lift your breasts to me. Offer your nipples to me."

"You're not going to -"

"Of course I am. Call it a test."

She cupped her breasts, keeping the coral tips of them available to him. She knew what he was going to do, and she knew it was going to hurt.

He pinched, watching her eyes. She stared back at him, knowing it was what he wanted her to do. As he squeezed, it began to hurt more, and more, but she kept that eye contact, even as the rest of her face contorted with pain.

They'd played these games before, and as always, his dominance and sadism made her wet.

He pinched tighter, and she gasped, her knees going weak.

"Keeping looking at me," he growled. Then he twisted.

She yelped, expecting him to let go.

He hung on and twisted harder, and she wanted to pull away, but didn't. He held her like that, staring.

"I love you, Gray," she said.

He made a face and let go.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not?" he asked.

"It made you stop. Before I passed the test."

He shrugged. "The test wasn't for you. It was for me. I was stopping there, anyway. I proved to myself that I can hurt you, if I need to."

"Famous last words," Nicole said. "But I'm glad that you can. I don't claim any reason for your mercy."

He nodded. "I won't say those words back, Nicole. That would feel like cheating. Besides, my feelings are complicated."

"I understand, Sir," she said, risking the title.

"Share your location with me. I need to get a collar made, and I'll find you when I need to."

"Yes Sir." It felt good to get to say it, now that he hadn't rebuked her for it. She fiddled with her phone, went through the prompts. "Done, Sir."

"Good bitch," he said.

The words felt like a slap and a caress, all that the same time. "Thank you, Sir."

"You realize I can name you whatever I want. I won't take it easy on you."

"Yes, Sir. And rename me as often as you want, at least in Ruritanian law. I'll happily fill out a pile of forms, if you like, and you can change my name every month."

"Huh," Gray said. "Hadn't occurred to me to treat it like that. Anyway, my wife suggested, 'Lying Bitch.'"

"Yes, Sir. I better fill out at least one more form, then."

"Why's that?"

"Because it won't be true. I'm done lying, and when you'll realize that, you'll get tired of calling me that."

Gray smirked. "I said it was her suggestion, not that I was taking it. I understand that the current number of 'Cumslut' is up to 73, so 'Cumslut74' is available."

She knew he was studying her face for a reaction, and she wondered how Sherry would feel about that. But all she said was, "Well, that name at least I think I can live up to."

"I do believe you're serious about all this."

Nicole nodded.

"Until you're collared, no masturbation, no sex with anyone. It'll take a while to have your new name engraved on the collar, but I'll find you."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He'd accepted her. She almost couldn't believe it. As soon as he left she was going to -

No she wasn't, because he told her not to. Of course he wouldn't know. There wasn't a camera. She could do it, and tell him she hadn't.

And then she'd be a lying bitch. Dammit, he had her.

"Not even one orgasm, Sir?"

"Nope. Not even one." He picked up the sketchbook. "I can't guarantee that Betty will play as nice as I do," he said.

God. What if she was a monster? Gray wouldn't marry a monster. She had to have faith in that. "Yes, Sir. I'll obey her, or accept the consequences."

"Goodnight, Nicole."

"Goodnight Sir." She walked to the door with him. There was a little chance of the neighbors spotting her topless, but she took the chance, and even watched him as he walked to his car. Then she closed the door, wondering if she was in over her head, but knowing she had to find out.

Sunday morning, Nicole got a text from Gray.

"No clothes today. If you have a must do errand, let me know what it is and I'll see what I can work out."

She had planned on going out for coffee, and to get some snickerdoodles from the local bakery. But she could make coffee at home, she supposed, and do without the cookies, even if she didn't want to.

"Yes, Sir," she texted back. "Do pajamas count as clothes?"

"Of course they do."

But they were so comfy! Still, she stripped them off, and walked naked to the hall, where she turned up the thermostat. Were her nipples hard because she was cold, or turned on by his directions? Both things could be true. But she didn't want to be turned on, because there was nothing she was allowed to do about it.

Not that he would know. One little transgression, before he could see and hear everything she could did with the collar.

But no. She was trying to be a better person, dammit. So no touching. The show she'd been binging was pretty sexy, and that wouldn't help. Walking around naked all day long wouldn't help either, but maybe a good book would distract her from all of it. She could go to the library and... ugh, no.

She downloaded a book about Ruritanian slavery, figuring it would be good research, but after an hour of that she was rubbing her thighs together in frustration, so she tried again. Nathaniel Hawthorne should be safe enough, she thought. Hopefully Gray wouldn't ask her about her reading, she wouldn't want to be made to wear a scarlet "A" everywhere.

She was absorbed enough that she didn't hear Sherry come in, and was only aware of her daughter when she was standing right in front of her.

Sherry wore a blouse, a mid-length skirt, and sensible heels. And the collar, of course. Nicole was instantly conscious of being naked, and held her legs tight and the book in front of her chest.

"Gray told me to check on you," Sherry said. "Make sure you were following directions."

"I am."

"There are things I have to do. Sorry, Mom." Sherry headed upstairs, and Nicole stared after her. Sure, Sherry was the one wearing a collar, but her clothes against Nicole's nudity, and the fact that she was obviously acting as Gray's agent, made Nicole feel smaller.

Which is what I want. But not smaller than my daughter.

It was out of her control now.

Sherry came back down after a half hour or so, with a suitcase. "Bringing more stuff over to Gray's house. And I went to your drawer to take your vibrator away. Love you, Mom." She walked over and kissed Nicole on the forehead.

Sherry knew where she kept her vibe? She thought she had some secrets. "Love you, too, Sherry. Are you - are you okay with all of this?" If she hadn't been naked, Nicole would have gotten up to hug her.

"I am, oddly. That's weird, isn't it?"

"The whole thing is weird."

Sherry nodded. "Bye Mom," she said. "I was told not to dawdle."

She watched Sherry walk out.

A few hours later, she found herself horny again, Hawthorne or no. She didn't masturbate every day, but somehow, now that it was off-limits, she couldn't get the thought out of her mind.

"I'm very horny," she texted Gray.

"Just be a good bitch," he texted back.

Gah.

"I'll need to wear clothes to go to work in the morning."

"By all means, wear clothes. Dress nicely. Give notice." She didn't protest. Terry had left her plenty of money. She worked to keep busy, not because she needed to, and she was only half-time now, but she enjoyed being surrounded by the books at the library.

Monday morning she wore a suit to work, which she never did, and naturally, her colleagues asked her if she had a job interview, which she denied. She didn't know if they believed her, and she wondered if, in a way, she was interviewing for another job. One that came with a collar.

She wondered how that would go over at the library. Demons had become one of those things you didn't discuss much, like politics and religion, but Ruritania and slavery was even more of a topic that got people worked up.

Gray wouldn't tell her to quit unless he was sure he was going to collar her. At least, she was 99% sure of that. She handed in the paperwork.

She tried to focus, but she left on time rather than lingering around like she often did. When she got back, she noticed Gray's car in her driveway.

Her heart beat faster. She looked around, and didn't see him, so she parked herself and went on in.

There were grocery bags in the living room, full of clothes. Her clothes.

Model came downstairs, wearing a very tight T-shirt that said "I fuck demons. Only demons," on it, and short-shorts that showed some cheek. She carried a bag.

"Hello Mrs. Fleming," she said. "Gray told me to go through your wardrobe and toss everything that wasn't sexy, except for a few outfits for your job."

Nicole looked around at the number of bags. "This has to be almost everything. Is Sherry with you?"

"No, she let me use her key. And yes, it's most of it. Do I have your consent to take it to Goodwill, Mrs. Fleming?"

Nicole frowned. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"We all have choices. We obey, or suffer the consequences, Mrs. Fleming. Our consequences are different, that's all."

Nicole shrugged. "Fine," she said. "And stop calling me Mrs. Fleming. I'm Nicole."

Model shook her head. "It's not worth the consequences, Mrs. Fleming."

So Gray had told her to call him that. She watched as Model took the bags out. It seemed she had come home just as Model had finished bagging, but before she had taken anything to the car. Or perhaps Model had been waiting for her, to make it look dramatic.

Nicole helped her with the bags. She noticed her comfy flannel PJs on top, which tempted her to protest that she hadn't even been collared yet, and that there should be an order to these things. But for all she knew the paperwork was already in, and she had the feeling that this, too, was a test.

She would not fail any tests, if she could avoid it.

When the bags were all loaded, Model came back in with her. "Thank you for helping, Mrs. Fleming. Now I need you to remove your clothing, please."

"Do I take orders from you, as well as Gray?"

"No. You can ask Master, if you like, Mrs. Fleming," Nicole said.

Nicole took off her clothes.

Model took a measuring tape from her pocket. "Just stay still, please, Mrs. Fleming."

"Do you have to say my name every time?"

Model smiled at her. "Yes, Mrs. Fleming. Besides, I enjoy it, because I love following his orders. Don't you, Mrs. Fleming?"

"Of course, sweetie," Nicole said, feeling a little sarcasm enter her voice.

Model wrapped the measuring tape around her chest, and announced her results as she went.

"I get it," Nicole snapped. "I'm overweight."

"Nonsense," Model said. "You're a MILF, Mrs. Fleming, and there's nothing wrong with having a bust and hips. Our master deserves a variety of bodies to serve him. I'm not reading the figures out to embarrass you, but because recording them is easier than writing them down."

"It's not the bust, it's the waist."

"Well, with a bust like that, you'd look pretty silly with Marie Antoinette's waist, wouldn't you? Thanks, Mrs. Fleming. I'll be back later with some replacement clothes. Your credit card, please?"

Another test, she supposed. She handed the young lady her credit card. Hell, what could possibly go wrong.

At least it had a limit on it. The papers she'd signed let Gray spend her money, anyway. But she'd done that because she trusted Gray, and she didn't know that she trusted Model.

She didn't put clothes back on, but she did look in her drawers. Almost everything was gone, but she did have one other outfit for work. She sighed. She didn't need the job for a living, because Terry had left her plenty, but she'd kept it because she found it rewarding, and because it helped to give her structure.

She supposed she'd have plenty of structure.

Model knocked on the door two hours later, with a shopping bag. No doubt full of skimpy nothings. "Do you want to come in?" Nicole asked her, to be polite. "I know you're driving so I won't offer you a drink, but - some soda, or something?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Fleming," Model said, setting the bag down inside. "Good night."

"Good night, Model."

Model wasn't such a bad name. Model looked like a model, all toned and fit.

Nicole wondered what Gray would call her. The worst thing about the last two days was that he told her so little. That, too, was probably a test. He had two other slaves and a wife. She couldn't always expect his attention. They had texted a lot, when they'd had their affair.

Hell, if she was a man she'd pay more attention to Sherry and Model than to her. To Betty, too. I'm ten years older than all of them. And I have the least seniority, I suppose, depending on how you count.

She opened the bag, curious. On top were some lacy, sexy bras, a few g-strings, two garter belts, and some stockings. Exactly the sort of things she expected. Two tee-shirts, one of which said "Demon Cum Slut" and the other which said, "I Heart Demons" in pictographs. But under that were three sweaters. Turtlenecks.

Huh?

She couldn't resist asking. "Why the turtleneck fetish, Gray?"

"You can wear them to work over a collar, while you work out your two weeks' notice."

She should have thought of that. She would have, if she had not been so sure that any clothes Model picked up for her were designed to expose and even perhaps humiliate.

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome, bitch."

Well, at least he didn't use the word lying.

And as it always had, him calling her names turned her on, even as a part of her wanted to strike back against it.

She didn't want to be turned on when she couldn't do anything about it, and he wasn't around. She didn't want to be tortured, either, if he wasn't around to see it.

So she sent him a selfie, to fix the part about him not seeing it. "Your calling me that turns me on, Sir. May I play with myself?"

"Calling you bitch?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. And no, you may not."

"Yes, Sir," she typed, and was glad he couldn't see the expression on her face. She put the clothing Model had brought in drawers, and removed the tags after checking to make sure they all fit.

The turtlenecks seemed to promise that it would not be that much longer. She touched her bare neck.

Tuesday morning, she wore a dress to work, high necked, belted, skirt below the knees. That wasn't usual for her, either; she was more of a flannel shirt and jeans person, but those were all gone. She focused better, not because she was any less excited and anxious but because she was getting used to it.

After her four-hour shift, she looked at her phone, but there were no messages from Gray. She encountered an uncommon number of red lights on the way home. There were no cars parked out front, or in the driveway, so she supposed she was coming home to an empty house.

She didn't even have any directions to follow, other than the standing order not to play with herself. She tried not to think about that order; it was easier if she didn't.

There was a small, gift-wrapped box on the dining room table. She almost didn't notice it. Gray had Sherry's key, and could come in and out as he pleased, or send his minions.

"Open Me" the card on the box said.

She obeyed directions like a good girl. Or a good bitch.

Inside was a blue steel collar. There was a note. "Strip, and put it on if you want to. But there is no turning back."

Right. This was the last moment to chicken out. Put it on, and he could see and hear everything. Put it on, and it would lock in place.

Leave it be, and she would always wonder what would have happened if she put it on.

She took her clothes off, and folded them neatly, trying to think it through, but what was there to think about. This was a leap into the unknown, and it couldn't be analyzed or worked out like a math problem. There was no answer.

Property of Grayson Harding, the collar said on the outside.

She put the collar on. Locking it made the connection that made the electronics go, she knew. He would know it was on. At any moment, he might press a button that would send a powerful shock through her body.

That didn't happen, and after a minute she started to breathe normally, and have some hope that it wouldn't. Not soon, anyway. Not until she screwed up.

He had said her new name would be engraved on it, but she hadn't seen it. She hadn't seen a name on Sherry's, or Model's, either. Then she remembered there had been something on the inside, but she'd been in such a rush to put it on, she hadn't read it.

Damn!

"I'm yours, Sir," she said.

A moment later she got a text. "You're mine, bitch, and the word you're looking for is Master. Your Mistress is on her way."

Mistress. Surely not Sherry. Betty.

Nicole got the distinct feeling that Betty did not like her very much.

"Yes, Master," she said.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Nicole looked through the keyhole, and saw Betty. She opened the door.

Betty was wearing a white T-shirt that said, "Demon Consort," and jeans. She carried a black leather purse. The slender woman was quite apparently not wearing a bra, and she walked past Nicole and into the place like she owned it. Nicole closed the door behind her.

"Welcome to the family, bitch," Betty said.

This wasn't in any of Nicole's fantasies. But as the note had said, there was no turning back. "Thank you, Mistress."

"Gray's busy painting, of course. These are his painting hours. Sometimes he has one of the girls suck him off while he paints - it helps relax him."

One of the girls, meaning maybe her daughter.

"You have a DVD player?" Betty asked.

Nicole nodded, taking her to the big screen TV in the living room. "Don't tell me there's an on-boarding video. You'd think it would be online."

"We could put this online, I expect, if you like," Betty said. "But right now, I have it on a disc. Put it in, bitch."

Nicole wondered if the double entendre was intended. Put it in, indeed. She turned on the television and put in the disk Betty handed to her. Betty grabbed the remote.

"Over here, bitch. On all fours, looking up at the screen like a little eager puppy."

God. It was one thing to play with Gray like this, another to have his wife humiliate her. But she got on her knees, and looked up at the screen. She was curious as to what was on the video.

"This starts where you walked out," Betty said as she hit play. "I'm sure you don't want to have missed a moment of the ceremony, so don't you dare turn away."

The screen showed Gray, in demon form, fucking Sherry in the middle of the big room where Sherry's collaring took place. Model and Betty were visible, watching, as well as the beautiful red demoness named Anathema.

"Doesn't she look lovely, getting fucked?" Betty asked.

She did, but Nicole wanted to turn away.

"She's so much younger than you. Fitter, too. I bet her pussy is tighter." Betty moved behind her, to sit comfortably on the couch. "Just stay right there, keep watching."

Like all sex, it was repetitive for a while. In and out. But Sherry was obviously having a good time as she came, over and over. Then Gray grunted, and cum started coming out from Sherry's pussy, oozing out around the monster red cock inside her.

The cameraman got a closeup.

"You'll have to earn the privilege, bitch. But I think he'll use your mouth and your ass. Speaking of which."

A cold liquid was poured on her ass, and dribbled on her asshole, and Nicole shuddered and looked to see what Betty was doing.

"Watch the screen, bitch," Betty said, but not before Nicole saw that she held a bottle of lube in her hand.

Nicole turned to watch the screen. Sherry had gone to her knees, and Model had joined her, licking Gray's messy cock.

"What do you say, bitch?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"They'll have it hard in no time, don't worry. I know it's hard to see your daughter empty."

It was hard to watch, period. But she supposed she'd see it live often enough. And she'd probably be fucked in front of Sherry. At least, as Betty suggested, anally.

"Just relax, Nikki. Like your daughter."

Nicole had never liked that nickname. On the screen, Model and Sherry had gotten Gray hard again. It hadn't taken them long. Now Sherry was turning her back to Gray, who had her hand on her hips. Sherry reached back and spread her cheeks, and Model poured lube on her much as Betty just had, although Sherry didn't shiver.

"Gray made sure it was warmed up first, but I put it in the fridge for a bit, special for you," Betty explained. "Now in goes the plug, gotta get your best hole ready for your Master, hmm?"

Nicole shrieked. Not because of the size of the metal invader, but because it was ice cold. She couldn't help but pull away.

"Keep watching the screen," Betty said, her voice unyielding. "And if you move again I'm going to ask Gray to shock you. Twice. And I'll enjoy every minute of that."

Nicole stayed very still. The tip of the plug had warmed a little, but as it moved forward the freezing sensation got deeper. On the screen, Gray's undoubtedly very warm cock slid into Sherry's ass. "Did you put that in the freezer or something?"

"Try rephrasing, bitch."

"Did you put that in the freezer, mistress?"

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?"

The cold stung, which at least distracted Nicole from the sight in front of her eyes, and numbed her to the discomfort of her sphincter as it stretched to accommodate the cone shaped head of the metal invader.

And then, suddenly, it was past, and her ass clenched around it, holding it firm. But it was still very cold.

"It'll warm up. Eventually. Now for the nipple clamps."

Nicole sighed. "Is this all what Gray wants?"

"He was informed, and he didn't say no," Betty told her.

Nicole decided to take that as a yes. "Then thank you, Mistress."

"Good bitch," Betty told her.

The clamps were the clover-type, which tightened if you pulled on them. A chain hung between them. Her breasts dangled toward the floor, and the chain, once the clamps were attached, nearly touched it.

Sherry was still getting fucked onscreen. But she still seemed to be enjoying herself, too, even with a massive cock up her ass. Maybe especially with a massive cock up her ass. She screamed an orgasm, followed by her yelling, "Thank you, Master!" and Nicole realized that Betty had turned up the volume.

For a few minutes, they just watched. The plug got warmer. The nerves in her nipples, cut off from their blood supply, deadened a bit.

Betty slipped her hand between Nicole's legs and stuck two fingers up her pussy, then withdrew them just as fast.

"You're wet," Betty said, which Nicole already knew. "Wet from watching your daughter get fucked."

Nicole shook her head. She knew why she was wet. She was wet because of the clamps, applied for Gray's amusement, and wet because of the plug, and its promise that Gray would take her, and soon. It didn't take much imagination to watch her daughter, who looked so very much like her, and visualize everything going on happening to her, instead.

And she'd been wet ever since she'd put on the collar, anyway.

"You're not wet, bitch?" Betty asked.

"I'm wet for my Master," Nicole said.

Betty laughed. "Good answer. You know he's not going to fuck you there, don't you? Not until you prove yourself to him."

"Yes, Mistress," Nicole said. She did now. It didn't stop her from getting wet, even if all that lubrication was for no purpose.

"Of course, he'll probably whore you out at the club. So he can draw you getting railed, just like he does the other girls."

"Yes, Mistress," Nicole said.

Gray pulled out. The closeup showed cum dripping from both of Sherry's holes, and then the next moment Gray had picked her up and was carrying her out of the room like she weighed nothing.

He saw the care on Gray's face, and the love in Sherry's. Love both ways, she thought.

"I love him," she said.

"You've had a funny way of showing it," Betty said.

"Yes. But that all changes now."

"It better. Because I love my husband, and I won't see him hurt."

Nicole smiled. "Yes, Mistress," she said, and meant it.

Betty laughed. "Good bitch. Okay, the movie's over. Kneel to face the front door, and we'll just wait. If he shows you his cock, you suck it. Got it?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Nicole salivated. It had been so long since she'd sucked Gray's cock, and now she couldn't wait.