The Lock Ch. 01: GO

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Simulated Rape, Pain (1 drop blood), Male Bi/Gay, MaleDom, FemDom, Family (no incest), Consensual Non-Consent, and Sex Work (idealized) The only coercion is from a sense of duty to family. All over 18.

Credits: Edited by the 'Erotic Confectioners. Many thanks to Onyx03, Grrl Orc, Jasmine27, and allnitediner as well as others for editing this story.

Note: Nine chapters total. Each chapter switches tense in the middle. I was experimenting with that as a way to increase pace. The chapter names just happened.

*****

THE LOCK, 1: GO

Waking my wife by slipping my hand between her legs, finding her wet and willing, and then pushing fingers and eventually my cock into her is such a joy. She is a sexual submissive, and loves to please me in bed. But more than that, she is turned on by non-consensual sex; by being used sexually, as we discovered at our very first meeting. Her biggest turn on comes from her own agreement to be used sexually by me in a way she doesn't initiate or even necessarily want or enjoy otherwise.

She would never ask for or want to have anal sex; but if I tell her I intend to "take your ass," she is suddenly wet and ready to spread her cheeks. And she likes it better if it's a little humiliating.

She enjoys being used for sex, not so much the sex itself. This was difficult for me to accept, but as time has passed, I've allowed myself to let go and just enjoy it. I've become sure that it really is what she wants.

But lately, when I push my hand between her legs in the morning, or anytime really, more and more often she just closes her legs and pushes my hand away. And I don't force it; I don't have any desire to use force. That would be wrong. Aside from a couple of weird fantasies I'm rather ashamed of, the very last thing I want to do is hurt her. It makes me sad that life has a way of forcing us; of backing us into corners where we must make difficult choices.

The interesting thing is that after rejecting me, she looks at me with guilt and lust in her eyes, and we end up having sex anyway. She often slips herself into handcuffs, locks herself to our headboard to recreate our first meeting, in which I had no choice but to violate her intimately to reach the handcuff key and release her.

Lately, she has been asking me to lock her up. She forces me into the role of the bad guy instead of her rescuer-not as it actually was when we met.

That's a long story involving a dirty alleyway, handcuffs on a fence, and a diaphragm with the key to the handcuffs above it, inside her. The key was placed there by her rather uncouth ex-husband who was also her gynecologist. After their divorce he took the money from the sale of his practice and their home to run off with his mistress . Putting the key inside her and locking her in the alley before they left was apparently an idea from his lover's twisted mind.

Fishing the key out of her vagina and releasing her became my task by random chance and led to a rather surprising discovery for her: She loved being "violated." Since then, the key is metaphorical, and just fingering her or having sex while she is locked up brings her great joy. That act can put her in a very lovely, grateful, submissive state where she becomes my willing sexual partner.

But she is less and less into that game and more and more into... something else. Something more. Something that frightens me.

As this year has come to a close, her excuses have become increasingly desperate and less convincing. Always with some truth to them: enough to make them plausible, but not enough to be believable.

"I'm worried about the upcoming vote, and I just need you to take control." She begs.

My wife is on our city council and has been preparing to run for mayor. Despite being an immigrant from the old country she won the respect of people in her district and was easily elected to her council seat. Many people have called for her to seek the higher office. She is a woman of distinction and well respected in our community. She owns several businesses and runs them like a Swiss watch. But even that has changed.

I think the real problem is money. Not that we are hurting. My own business is still chugging along, although it is decreasing as more and more people order online. Brick and mortar is not the place to be these days. Her businesses are doing well, in part because she wisely focused on the service sector, but also because of her unbelievable level of effort in managing them. Also, as her sex drive has changed, her work drive has increased. Her employees have been increasingly grumbling about how hard she pushes them. They would never believe that she enjoys being tied up and used; instead they've started muttering about her being a slave driver.

She started keeping a card on the bathroom wall with the balance of our savings account and other liquid assets. She would stare at it in the morning. As things have gone downhill in our bedroom, the expression on her face when she looks at that card in the bathroom becomes increasingly fearful. That doesn't make sense, because that account is fat. We are packing money away. Mostly thanks to her.

Something is wrong. And she won't tell me what it is.

At first I thought she was saving for a vacation or to start a new business or something like that. Or a trip to the old country. She stays in contact with her extended family in her native country. She calls her mother and father every day, and has video chats online with her cousins, nephews and nieces. She writes letters, the ink on paper sort, and mails them to grandparents and older relatives who are not comfortable with computers. Family is everything to her, and she is a dutiful and loyal daughter. We have talked about going to visit for me to meet her family in person. They have only gotten to know me through the occasional video chat. She has said she would love to introduce me, "if we can afford it" despite there being more than enough in savings for many trips.

Now I'm worried that she secretly owes the mob and the loan is coming due. Or something else just as bad.

I've been seeing guilt on her face when she looks at me-fear and guilt. Last week when I was horny and sort of pushing her to have sex with me, she asked me to hurt her. That was new. She wanted me to spank her while I entered her from behind. I'm really not a violent man and I have never been into BDSM but I have to admit it turned me on. She really seemed to love it. Lots of "Yes! Harder!" and "Oh, spank me, I'm so bad." It was like a bad porn fantasy, but good. That freaked me out even more.

Yesterday, she handed me my belt and begged me to whip her while she sucked my cock. She has a small mouth and can't take me all the way down during a blowjob. She gagged herself on my member. She looked up at me with that horrible look of guilt, fear and lust in her eyes; begging me to whip her back and behind. I'm ashamed to say it turned me on in ways I would never have expected. Seeing her on her knees, her skin turning red, gagging on me, only resting to beg me to hurt her more... I almost came.

But when she started crying, and begged me through her tears to slap her, to "fuck me up" I was so scared that I stopped and tried to hold her. She screamed and pushed me away, then got up and ran. It was everything I could do to get her to come to back to bed and sleep.

And now it is today, and I'm on pins and needles. I'm trying to concentrate on work but I'm scared what she will be like when I get home. I'm thinking about calling a friend of mine who works in mental health. I want to learn what it would take to have someone evaluated-maybe even committed. But I just can't do it. It can't be that bad, can it?

I am very grateful to have good employees, well trained to run the store without me. I'm closing a little early to run back to our house, something I never do. The lovely little Craftsman with the white picket fence and roses in front. Adding those highlights to the home I'd grown up in was the first major decision we made together after our marriage, which came only a few months after our extraordinary meeting.

"Honey, I'm home." I call out, stepping through the door. I look around for her. "Where are you?" I call again. I hear sobbing in the bedroom-stepping in, I gasp. Her entire body is red and covered in welts. She is handcuffed with one hand to the headboard, her other hand holding a belt. She is flailing at her breasts while she sobs and cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh my love, so sorry!"

I run to her and stop her, taking the belt and holding her as she cries, shudders and keens.

"It's ok, it's ok" I say over and over, "We will find a way".

When her sobbing lessens, I take her head in my hands, look deep into her eyes.

"We will find a way out of whatever it is, we will go to the police, go into hiding, whatever it takes."

Her look of surprise startles me. I stare at her for a moment,

"Ok... So, obviously I don't know what's going on, but don't you think it's time you told me"?

Sheer panic is all I see on her face, then a sob and defeat. Her head drops as she whispers, "Yes." Looking up at me she speaks with a slight accent, which only appears when she is very stressed.

"Yes, I tell you, then you can leave me, and I pay for my failure."

"We are together!" I say, louder than I intended. Holding her firmly and looking right into her eyes I tell her, "I am your husband and I will be there for you, no matter what." She sobs and nods her head.

"Yes, I expect this. You are so good a man, you will not let me pay by myself and this makes me so sad." She has a way of slipping into an old world accent when she is stressed, and I hear that in her voice. She looks at herself. "I am so guilty, I hurt and this so helps."

I realize that she means her emotional pain, not the pain she has inflicted on herself. Suddenly, it hits me that her physical pain is helping her deal with whatever is wrong. I reach down and take her puffy red nipples between my fingers and squeeze them harder and harder while I watch her face. I see a whisper of a smile for an instant and then she gasps and nods her head.

"Yes! Please hurt... more... thank you." she pants. With the pain, she seems to recover the ability to think. She opens her eyes and speaks in her normal crisp voice.

"My guilt needs punishment, and... now I enjoy the pain. I read about BDSM, you know? Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism, Masochism?"

I nod, having gone through a very kinky phase as a young man. I was never really involved in it, but I read up on all sorts of wild things. I'm ashamed that it turned me on.

A flash of hope lights up her face and she continues.

"So that led me to reading about being a sexual slave and... " She is crying again, guilt and defiance alternately flashing on her face.

"And I love it! I want to be a sex slave!"

Her head drops and she sobbs again. I am shocked and... massively excited sexually.

"So... when you... you wanted me to..." I would never have expected this. Just as I loved the power our first encounter gave me; I find myself loving this new power, the sex and the raw taking this gives.

I lift her head and put my hand around her throat, looking deep into her puffy red eyes. I want her to know that I accept her and am able to embrace her kink. I take her other hand and push it toward the other handcuff on the headboard. She fights me, but she is smiling. When I hesitate, she whispers, "Do it!" I lock her other hand to the headboard and then kick off my shoes. I shed my pants and shorts revealing my raging hard on.

And the little bitch kicks me in the balls. The stars explode and I curl into a little ball on the bed. After a few minutes, the agony has resolved into a throbbing pulse, confusingly pleasurable-heightened by my still raging erection.

The animal is awakened deep inside me.

I look back up and she smiles this wicked smile at me and cocks one eyebrow. It is a clear, "What are you going to do about it" expression. She gets her answer when I grab her ankles with a growl and with all my strength against her struggling, force her legs apart. I force myself onto her and in between her legs, eventually slamming my cock into her sopping wet slit while she struggles and screams—fear and lust in her eyes.

Part of my mind registers that if our neighbors hear her screaming they will call the police. The rest of my mind takes her like an animal. I'm pumping my cock into her, my hips slamming against her, rutting out of control. I'm close to losing it myself, but I slow down my rhythm. I grab her throat and in that instant her screams turn to moans of pleasure. I take over her mouth, consuming her with my tongue. Our teeth scrape together and I taste blood. Pulling back, I see her look of hunger. She licks her lips and groans one elongated word: "Yessssss." It's too much, and I begin pumping my orgasm in her. I am left breathless, panting and more than a little scared.

"Are you OK?" I ask. She nods, smiles, and then looks at me with a hopeful expression,

"You liked that too, didn't you?" A tumble of emotions pass through me, but I nod dumbly.

"I've been so ashamed of wanting this..." she explains "...of wanting to be forced." She sighs; a shaky, heavy release of tension. "It's exactly what I thought I didn't want. I shouldn't like it, but ever since the idea, um, presented itself, I've wanted it more and more. To resist, struggle and then be overpowered and taken..."

She smiles again, and then her expression changes to shame. "I want more," she whispers. Shyly she looks up at me, then again down.

"I want harder." Her mouth twists into a dirty little grin.

I am stunned. But the comedian in me blurts out, "We'll need to soundproof the bedroom!" She laughs, and I am overjoyed. I don't care what she wants in bed, I just want her to be happy and apparently, I enjoy this as well!

But this doesn't explain her concern about money. So I press on:

"That isn't everything, is it? You have been really worried about money too?"

My heart cramps as her face falls. She is crying again, but finally the truth will out.

"I owe my family a great debt, specifically my uncle. I borrowed money from him ," she gasps softly, "to pay for my ex husband's medical degree." she sobs. "Just so the bastard could open his practice!"

"But, if it's a loan from your family, that is so much better!" I exclaim, "They can't kill you or force you to pay."

She shrinks down and cries even harder. I try to get her to talk to me, to look at me, but there's nothing. Eventually I give in and lift her head by the hair.

I slap her.

"Ahhh... oh, yes sir! Thank you!" she looks me in the face, "I love my family, my uncle needs me to save his business. I was raised to believe honor is above all else. I have dishonored you by not disclosing my debt before our marriage, and my family by failing to pay back my uncle. I must work to save them. And now I know what I am; I know that I love pain, and rough sex. I love being fucked hard-being taken. So I will fulfill my destiny after all." Her eyes well up in her ruined face and she starts crying harder. Sobs wrack her body and she holds onto me, finally letting it all out.

I take the key from the nightstand, unlock her handcuffs. I hold her while she cries. Eventually we fall asleep, her hands still clutching me.

*****

That's the first chapter, eight more to go and it just gets weirder. What do you do if you are a strong, driven, good person but somewhere deep down inside you start to realize that being humiliated, used, and hurt (in all the right ways) really turns you on? What about when your past catches up with you, after you have run away from it, remade yourself, and left it all behind? Not wanting to be who you are, but having to face up to it eventually is a strange ride. For you, and for your loved ones. Does your partner have hidden kinks that they are ashamed to tell you?