You're My Wife Now

I knew I shouldn't have listened to Barry. I had been listening to him all my life. That's why I get expelled. That's why after 10 years of trouble with the police my family booted me out. None of them wanted anything to do with me.

I had moved in with Barry after that. His grotty one bedroom flat with a landing complete with junkies was typical of the poverty rampant in Tottenham. I only smoked weed, but Barry had a "get rich quick" idea. He took £5000 worth of coke off our dealer. He thought we could double our money, but he used some of it partying with his other friends. The rest was stolen.

I had told him we had better run. We had no way of paying back Hamish, our dealer. He told me to relax. Hamish didn't worry him. Hamish was a five and a half foot of angry, English hating Scotsman. Barry was six foot of wiry muscle.

Now both of us were lying on the floor of our flat bleeding over the bare concrete floor. What we didn't know was that Hamish worked for Frankie Dunn. Frankie is what you could call a "name". If he were around when the Cray's ruled east London, they would have reported to him.

"Right, you two. What we have here is a predicament. Five grand is sod all to me. It's the disrespect. If it gets out that you fucked me over, it damages my rep. So, I'm afraid you have to go."

I had heard stories about Frankie. He was a big guy. He used to box for fun. His favourite torture was to hang you upside down and use you as a human punchbag. There were rumours he crushed a man's skull with his bare hands.

We were going to die. My nerve went. I grovelled at Frankie's feet.

"Please Frankie, please don't kill me I'll do anything." I said.

I don't know what possessed me. I kissed his shoes.

Frankie, Hamish and Paul, Frankie's muscle, glared down in disbelief.

"Have some fucking pride and die like a man you little prick."

Barry stood up.

"Frankie. I have your money. It's at my girlfriend's house. I'll get it."

Frankie's eyes narrowed.

"Go with him Paul. The pussy stays here. "

I didn't know what Barry was planning. He didn't have a girlfriend.

Frankie sat on the bed.

"While we are waiting, I could do with some entertainment. Lick my shoes clean sissy."

I was terrified. I set to my task straight away. I could hear Hamish and Frankie laughing above me. I kept going until my tongue was drying out. Then Frankie's phone rang.

"He did what! I hope you sorted it. Yes it's just come through. OK see you back here in ten minutes."

I didn't dare look up. I could hear what sounded like, Barry screaming. Then men both laughed.

"Look at this sissy boy. Your friend tried to run."

He showed me his phone. Barry was being held half over the railway bridge with a hand on his jacket that was stopping him toppling over on to the track below. The hand released him. Barry screamed and fell. He tried to rise from the track.He was halfway up, then train hit him.

I felt the bile rise in my throat.

"If you throw up sissy, you die here."

I forced it down.

"Your funny. I could do with a laugh. Paul he's coming home with us."

"Right boss. I'll get the motor."

On the way to Frankie's house, he made me sit on the floor behind the passenger seat like a dog.

I had no idea where we were. I saw one sign that said A127. I guessed we were in Essex somewhere.

"What's your name wimp?"

"T..Terry sir."

"Sir! Yes, I like that. Keep that up and you may get to live. Can't call you Terry. That's a man's name. My dad was called Terry. "

"How about Tami, boss." Said Paul.

"Perfect! Tami."

He looked down at me and I trembled. His eye's said it all. It was like looking into the eyes of a shark. I had seen them on documentaries. A soulless killer.

"What's your name wimp."

I didn't hesitate.

"Tami, sir."

"Good we understand each other. "

I could hear the tyres crunching on gravel and stone. We were on a dirt road now. The car bounced a few times, then stopped. When it started again, the road felt smoother.

I was dragged from the car and pushed toward two huge doors. The doors looked like they belonged to a castle, not a mansion. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a wide wall about half a mile away. This place and the grounds were huge.

Inside there were marble floors and a huge staircase. I stood there trying ot take it all in.

"I want a massage. Tami has small girlie hands. Take her upstairs and get her ready Paul. You know what I want, right?"

Paul led me up the wide staircase and led me to a well-equipped gym. He pointed me toward a shower and said.

"Clean yourself up. Be quick."

I got in the showerer and used shower gel to clean myself up. I wrapped a towel around me and stepped back into the gym. I noticed my clothes were gone.

Paul returned. He threw some clothing at me and said.

"Get dressed."

I looked at the clothes. There was a white nylon tunic style dress. The type that beauticians wore. There was a white lace bra, with small cups, white lace knickers, white tights and white court shoes.

"But, but.. these are women's clothes?"

Paul looked towards the door. Then lowered his voice.

"This isn't a fucking game. All the stuff you heard about him is true. I'm a hard heartless killer. He makes me look like a saint. If you want to live, do whatever he fucking tells you."

We heard Frankie call up the stairs.

"Is she ready for me?"

"Couple of minutes boss."

As I dressed in the unfamiliar clothing, Paul turned to me and said.

"Never, ever mention his wife."

Then he left the room.

I stood there in the tight dress and the heels, wobbling slightly as I trembled.

Frankie appeared naked at the door. He lay down on his front on the massage table.

"Get to it Tami. Use plenty of oil."

I had never given a massage before. I rubbed lots of oil into my hands and started. I rubbed the oil into his shoulders and back.

"Nice Tami. Rub harder. I'm a man, unlike you."

I pressed my hands into the tight muscles on the back of this huge man.

"That's better. Oh yes. Now lower. My legs, my arse, everything."

I silently prayed that I would not upset him. He was built as my father would have said, a brick shithouse.

After five minutes he turned over. To my horror I saw his huge erection. I had turned him on. His cock was wide and long. It was twitching and the head was bouncing off his belly.

"I think I have found a reason to keep you alive. Think very carefully about what you say and do now. I want you to take care of that. You caused it. You take care of it. Do it like your life depends on it. Because it does."

He let that hang in the air. I filled my hands with oil and slowly worked them up and down his shaft. This was the first time I had touched another man's cock, but fear overcame my qualms.

One hand gently stroked up and down. The other rubbed the oil into his balls.

"Fuck Tami yes, good girl."

I quickened my pace. One oily hand concentrated on his huge purple head.

"Faster bitch."

I leant over so my arms could reach better. My right hand was a blur.

"Oh god yes!"

Suddenly, his huge right hand pushed my head towards his cock. I went to cry out and object, but the head was forced into my mouth. I dare not bite. My life would be over.

Then I felt the first spurt of his warm salty cum hit the back of my throat. I gagged, but he held me firm. I had no choice but to swallow. It kept coming. He sat up but held my face to his groin.

He was sitting now. I was forced to the floor on my knees. His cold eyes locked onto mine.

"Swallow it all and clean me up Tami."

I did as I was told. I had fallen this far. On my knees dressed as a woman with a huge cock in my mouth. It seemed stupid to object to anything else. My pride as a man was gone.

When I finished, he grabbed a handful of my blond hair and pulled me up to face him.

"Can I please go now sir?"

"Go Tami? No not now, not ever. You were never a man. I found your role in life. Come with me."

He dragged me stumbling down the corridor. My unfamiliar heels clicking on the marble. We got to a room with a pink door decorated with gold leaf. He opened it to a huge suite.

There was a four-poster bed with a lacy white canopy. He opened the huge walk-in cupboard. It was filled with designer dresses, tops, skirts, blouses, handbags, boots and shoes. He opened the top drawer of a dresser. Silk and lace underwear exploded out in all the colours of the rainbow. The clothing in this cupboard must be worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

"This is your room now, well ours."

I looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"I told you Tami. Your life depended on keeping me happy. You did. I want more of that. I'm not queer."

I thought well you just forced a man to go down on you, so you are.

"The problem is you just sucked my cock. If I'm not queer, that means you must be a woman. In fact, that means you're my wife now."

"Congratulations. You get to live.... For now."

"Clean yourself and make yourself look pretty. Be downstairs in an hour. I'll tell you how this is going to work."

I stood there mute as he left the room. This morning I was twenty-five-year-old man. Now I was to be the wife of the scariest man alive.

What was I going to do?

Shall I continue this story?