Femworld

James sat up, ready to serve her in any way she saw fit. "Yes, Rebecca?"

"I'm hungry, and thirsty. Go downstairs and make me a sandwich."

"But . . . I thought you don't eat or drink . . ."

"We don't," she said patiently, "but your wife DOES, and pegging is hard work, so after she's done you should immediately go and make her something, as a sign of appreciation."

Exhausted nearly to the point of collapse, James nodded dutifully and climbed off of the bed. "May I clean myself up a little first?"

"You may," she said, pleased that he asked for permission first. "But the panties stay on."

James hobbled to the ensuite and cleaned himself up with a hot towel, his legs shaking beneath him. Looking at himself in the mirror he saw that his cheeks were flushed red and he laughed in spite of himself. Scarlett saw him from the bed and asked, "Something wrong?"

"No it's just . . . nothing Mistress."

"No, no, that won't do," she said sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. "Tell me what you're feeling right now, and remember, I'm your wife, not Scarlett."

James returned to the bedroom, feeling his face getting even hotter as he explained himself, "Okay . . . Rebecca . . . I feel strange saying this out loud, especially considering everything that's happened, but . . ."

"Go on . . ."

"Well . . . I was just thinking . . . this is going to sound weird but, I think that might be the best sex I've had in years . . . "

Smiling back at him in the near-dark, she finished his thought for him, " . . . and you didn't even use your cock. You put on some sexy panties, got on your knees and sucked some cock, spread your legs and got fucked until you came . . . congratulations, now you know what sex is usually like for a woman."

James hadn't really thought of it that way, but he realized that she was right. At BEST, that was what a good sexual encounter looked like for a female, and he also recognized that she (as the "man" in that exchange) could have easily made it empty and pleasureless simply by cumming early and going to sleep, just as James had done to more women than he could remember, including Rebecca.

"Now, the question is, how hard would you be willing to work for your wife if you knew sex like that was the reward?"

He thought about that for a moment, then said, "Honestly? I think I'd work VERY hard."

"No more strip clubs or jerking off in the basement?"

"No way!"

"Think you'd be more polite and respectful?"

"Absolutely!"

"Think it's worth wearing the cock cage and panties for?"

He had to think about that for a second, but he quickly decided, "You know what? Yeah, it'd still be worth it."

"Good," she said. "Then your time here wasn't wasted. But you know the one thing that's still missing?"

"No, what?"

"My sandwich."

"Oh, right . . . sorry." James chuckled nervously and headed downstairs.

To his surprise daylight was breaking over the horizon and he could see well enough to make out Mark and Rajesh's forms in the kitchen; both of whom were wearing nothing but feminine looking thongs similar to the one James was wearing, and all three of them bore the same bumps and lumps made by the cages they were wearing beneath. The two men were attempting to make sandwiches, and for a moment the trio just stood there looking at one another, unable to find the appropriate words for their circumstances. Eventually, James broke the silence with a redundant observation, "Sandwiches huh?"

Mark shrugged, "That's what they said. You too?"

James nodded, "Yep."

Mark shook his head, "Waste of good food if you ask me, these . . . " he almost said "bitches" but caught himself in time. " . . . Mistress Halle and the others don't eat. Thing is, it wasn't Halle that asked me to make it, it was Elizabeth, MY Elizabeth."

James nodded again, "Yeah, for me it was Rebecca."

Both men turned towards Rajesh but Mark gestured to James not to say anything. Instead they watched as he finished making a massive sandwich for Deepika, who had presumably asked in the voice of his wife, Shasta. He placed it carefully on a small plate and rushed upstairs with it. Once he was gone, James asked, "Do you think he's going to be alright?"

Mark shook his head, "Nah, I don't think so. Honestly, I'm not sure I will be either." He finished assembling his sandwich and left James to work on his own as he carried it upstairs.

James finished his and replaced the makings in the refrigerator before taking his upstairs as Scarlett/Rebecca had requested. But as he reached the top of the stairs he saw Mark standing in the hallway eating the sandwich he'd made, and Rajesh was kneeling on the floor with some sort of note in his hand.

"What's going on guys?" James asked.

"They're gone," Mark answered through a mouthful of roast beef.

"Gone where?"

Mark shrugged, "Gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

Mark pointed to the flatscreen in the hallway which was now showing a sign that read, "Thank-You for visiting Skyline Ranch. Please remember to leave our home as you found it, and have a pleasant journey home."

"See?" Mark said, "it's over."

Unable to simply take Mark's word for it, James hurried into his own guestroom; sure enough, Scarlett was nowhere to be found. A purple gift-bag stuffed with pink tissue paper was sitting on his un-made bed with a red envelope poking out of it. His name was written on the front of it and he recognized the handwriting instantly. He attempted to set the sandwich down on the nightstand and missed his mark by about a foot, dropping it onto the carpet where it spontaneously disassembled itself back into its core parts. With shaking hands he plucked the envelope out of the bag and sat down on the bed, staring at it in his hands. Opening it, he found a two page letter written in the same familiar handwriting as that found on the envelope; after twenty years of grocery lists and "Honey-do's" he'd recognize it anywhere. It read:

Dearest Husband

I hope your weekend was everything you hoped for, because things are going to be different from now on. Skyline called me after you put a deposit down and I've got to say they were amazing. They let me pick your outfits and everything. Who knew you'd look so cute as a schoolgirl? I'm DEFINITELY going to make you wear that for me, and don't even think about refusing because I've got the key for the cage you're wearing and a remote to zap you with it too. Not sure if you know yet, but the five thousand you stole from our joint account buys quite a lot at Skyline Ranch. Angelina has a whole channel of instructional videos online about how to continue your "training" you when you come home, assuming you do come home. I also get 24 hour monitoring (of YOU) and 3 housecalls should I request them.

The way I see it, these are your options.

1. Divorce. You can check yourself into a hotel or stay with one of your idiot friends (assuming their wives don't throw them out), and I'll mail you the key to the cage on your dick after you meet the following conditions. I GET EVERYTHING. The house, both cars, and custody of our daughter. You'll resign from my father's company effective immediately, and sign an affidavit citing your infidelity as the cause for our divorce. You'll keep the contents of your personal account and the clothes on your back, nothing more, just like you were when we met. This is non-negotiable. Fight me on ANY part of it and Skyline will release pictures and videos to every one of your contacts including family, friends, and co-workers, especially your enemies and ESPECIALLY my father. I'll end up with everything anyways, and you'll be ruined in the process.

OR . . .

2. Submit. Since you pissed all over our marriage and the vows you took, I realize we can no longer be equal partners as I had hoped. So, since what we had together wasn't good enough for you, we're going to play by different rules from now on. MY rules. You'll do as you're TOLD. You'll go to work and you'll come home, and you'll ask my permission before going anywhere else, and while you're home you will WORK. I think 50% of the workload is fair, so I've decided you'll do 75%. Skyline will be monitoring your phone 24/7, and not just your location. Every text, every email, every call and even what you say when you're not using your phone will be monitored and reported to me. If you lie to me, about ANYTHING ever again, you lose everything. If you try to go behind my back and screw me out of what's mine, you lose everything. And if you so much as utter the word divorce or talk shit about me behind my back, you will lose everything. And just in case you have any ideas about leaving your phone in one place so you can step out without me knowing, it's paired with a chip inside the cage on your dick and if you get more than five feet away from your phone at any time, you'll get a zap. Ten feet away you'll feel like you tried to fuck an electrical outlet. And twenty feet . . . well, you can imagine. Same thing happens if you try to get the cage off. You'll get a warning, and then you'll wish you were dead.

When I use the word "Submit", I mean it. Mind, body, soul. Anything you say or do to give me or the computers at Skyline reason to believe you're not with the program, and the deal is off.

You know what? I promised myself I wasn't going to get angry when I wrote this but FUCK ALL THAT. After what you did, you deserve everything I TOLD THEM TO DO TO YOU. Me . . . Elizabeth . . . and Shasta . . . ALL OF US. While you boys were there having your fun, we were sitting on your couch in your house deciding how it would all go down. And it was worth every penny. After seeing what you guys did to those women on the first night, we couldn't WAIT to see your faces when they turned on you. Everything "Scarlett" did to you was ME, what I TOLD her to do, including last night. That's how it's going to be from now on and if you don't like it, see option #1. Which reminds me . . . if you haven't already looked in the gift bag, stop reading and take a peek.

James set the letter down and fished into the gift bag, tossing aside the tissue paper and dumping the bag out onto the mattress. Inside it was every outfit he'd been forced to wear that weekend, all brand new with the tags still attached, all taken out of the five grand he'd paid to be there. The "naughty schoolgirl' outfit, the bright red lifeguard swimsuit . . . all of it. He went back to the letter . . .

I picked those out for you, mostly because I wanted you to suffer. I wanted you to be not just embarrassed but humiliated. I wanted you to feel ridiculous. And I am going to CONTINUE to make you feel that way EVERY DAY until it becomes your new normal (Angelina taught me that, btw). To be honest, it kind of turns me on, but not in the way YOU would probably like it to. I like it because it puts you in your place and makes you more respectful. I like it because I know you must HATE it. Just like you hated shaving your entire body, which you will also continue to do. And that bag is just the beginning, I've already thrown out every pair of underwear you own and just wait till you see what's in the drawer now.

As for the pegging you got last night, I'll be working closely with Skyline Ranch on a schedule, and they'll let me know when and how you get it. To be honest I don't think it'll do much for ME, but Angelina gave me a pretty good argument to the contrary. She says since for 20 years sex together has always been about

YOU, that you owe ME 20 years of sex that is all about me, and I kinda like the sound of that. I also like the idea of them giving me your assessment every week sort of like a report card, and then I can decide whether to make it hurt, or let you enjoy it like last night. I WILL tell you right now, they also recommend making a rule that if I allow you to "cum", then you have to swallow it. Again, it doesn't really do anything for me, but when I saw how much you hated it but did it anyways . . . it was kind of a turn on. So, from now on if you cum, you swallow. No exceptions.

There's more, MUCH more, but I won't bother getting into all of that until you decide to come home or not. Just know that I still love you, but you will be apologizing to me for many months to come, maybe even years to come.

I'm at home waiting for you. At some point you'll either walk through the door or text me with an address to send the divorce papers. If you chose the former, then you know what you're getting into, just like if you choose the latter.

You decide.

Rebecca

From down the hall James heard Mark cry out, presumably having read a letter similar to his own. James folded the letter in his hands and slipped it back into the gift bag before stepping out into the hall where he found Mark kneeling in the hallway, letter in hand, sobbing. Rajesh was standing at the doorway to his guestroom, but strangely he was grinning from ear to ear, apparently PLEASED by the arrangement Shasta had declared in HIS letter.

They all got something different, each decided by the preferences of their scorned spouse.

"What the fuck do we do now, Jimmy?" Mark cried. "I'm fucking FINISHED. You hear, FINISHED?"

James let out a sigh and shrugged, "What else CAN we do? I guess we clean the house for the next bunch of suckers coming in."

"And what then?"

James could only shake his head and smile.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm going home."

END

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