Fifty Hours per Week Ch. 01byCalDreamer©
Driving west, Harold and Helen Yodersohn had left behind all they knew, the adjacent towns of their conservative religious community. Isolated, they knew the surrounding world only indirectly and not very well. The Latter-day Puritans had a 19th-century feel with conservatively dressed women and healthy hard-working men. The couple had fit in well, accepting the dominance of Holy Leader.
When it came time to marry, Holy Leader made all the decisions. He introduced Harold to Helen, and that was that. Harold had admired her from afar for years, but they had never spoken or even gotten close. He was quite pleased, for his stranger/bride had a bright round face, an enchanting turned-up nose, average height and long auburn hair. The rest of her body was permanently hidden under her traditional full-length dress. She looked down modestly during their entire first meeting, lifting her head only when Holy Leader demanded it. Of her personality, likes and dislikes, skills and needs Harold knew nothing. He was handsome enough, about the same height as Helen, with the full beard required of the community's males.
Their wedding was a simple affair, mostly hymns and warnings from Holy Leader. On their wedding night they got all the sex education they would ever get, as Holy Leader performed the marital consecration. He stripped the new Mrs. Yodersohn naked in her new husband's presence, laid her flat on her back, and had his way with her while giving minimal explanations of what was going on. Harold was astonished at Helen's body - full breasts, soft thighs, generously rounded hips. He had never seen anything so beautiful, that would soon be his to touch and caress. But first Holy Leader did the touching and caressing. Helen looked helplessly at her new husband while it happened; he was strongly aroused by the deflowering of his bride, watching her involuntary sexual responses and feeling his own. He knew deep down that something was wrong about Holy Leader's intercourse with a married woman, but he accepted the custom. The intercourse was painful for Helen, physically and emotionally, but it didn't last long. Harold had a painfully stiff erection the whole time.
After the marital consecration they were free to live together as man and wife. As a result of this custom about a fifth of the community's firstborns were Holy Leader's, raised obediently by married couples who passively accepted this and much else.
Having discovered talents in a specialized branch of software engineering, Harold was able to bring a good salary working from home. Computers do exactly what they are instructed to do, no more and no less, so Harold got along with them comfortably, perhaps better than he got along with most people. Before long he got an unsolicited offer for a much better salary, but it would require a move to California. Realizing that Harold's tithe would enrich his struggling community, Holy Leader allowed him to go, but only if he paid a tithe for Helen too. So Harold obediently promised 20% of his salary, still allowing a comfortable living for the couple. Fortunately Helen wasn't pregnant.
Moving was a harrowing experience for the couple, without the guiding hand of Holy Leader to make decisions. They found a modest house in a town in the high desert; after a period of disorientation, then orientation, then organization, life became routine. Gradually they accommodated to California life, helped by establishing a rigid routine. Bored with staying at home, Helen found a job as a bookkeeper, trading what she called just a dress but what her coworkers called a granny dress for more stylish but still-conservative skirts and blouses. Harold shaved his beard after being teased about it. Yet, accustomed to the dominating presence of Holy Leader, they felt at loose ends, drifting. Weekends were specially hard, free time without duties or commitments. They were fortunate to have found real love for each other, but at a deep level they both craved order, the submission to a dominant individual that they had always known. The new-age sorts of churches they found in their town didn't do the job.
Their lives changed again when Harold, still stiff and awkward among his more casual coworkers, got some advice from a particularly astute young woman. He found this new friend, Sheila, uncomfortably attractive, a petite well-built blonde who seemed to specialize in low-cut scoop tops. He couldn't resist staring into that low-cut scoop with its subtly shifting contents, but Sheila didn't seem to mind. The way she moved, perhaps she liked it. They had begun talking innocently around the water cooler when Harold found himself confessing his discomfort. Sheila gave him a close hug of sympathy, mashing her breasts into his chest while he stood awkwardly, hands at his sides. She told him of an acquaintance who might enforce order in their lives. Interested but cautious, Harold asked a lot of questions, receiving mostly vague answers, but he felt that this might be what he and his wife needed. Sheila set up a meeting at a restaurant, neutral territory.
Bradley Townsend III welcomed his guests with his booming voice. Just as they had sat down he ordered them to stand. They stood. Then he ordered them to sit again. They sat. Without asking he ordered for all three of them; Sheila had already told him more about what the submissive couple needed than they knew about themselves. Nothing was said as each read the body language of the others. After eating in suspenseful silence, Brad was blunt and direct.
"I have a proposal for you, take it or leave it, no negotiations. For fifty hours each week, from eight pm on Friday until ten pm on Sunday, I will own you - you will obey me without question, do whatever I ask, no matter how extreme or uncomfortable. At other times you can lead your lives as you like, but during those fifty hours you will submit to my will completely. I will have the right to assign this authority to others. If you accept this offer, no further decisions on your parts are possible. Come to my home at 8:00 this Friday to begin this relationship. Be punctual."
Harold and Helen sat dumfounded, unable to finish their desserts, staring wide-eyed at Brad. Feeling an unfamiliar stirring at her crotch, Helen knew that she had to accept Brad's offer/demand. Having been straight-laced all her life, she sensed aspects of life that were new and unsettling, but exciting. She felt a strange compulsion to expand her narrow world. Later she discussed it with her husband, who particularly craved order and control - his wife needed to accept for different reasons, reasons that she couldn't admit even to herself.
"Well, what do you think, Helen? We do need some order in our lives. I feel uncomfortable without a steady hand to make decisions."
"I think we need to expose ourselves to new experiences. I didn't have any idea until we got here how restricted our lives were before. We would lose control, though. Suppose he asks us to do things we don't want to do?"
"That's what submission is all about, dear. If he demands things that make you uncomfortable, you'll have to go along, and I will too. It's what puts structure back into our lives."
It was for the best, they both agreed.
The First Weekend
At precisely 8:00 on Friday the submissive couple rang the doorbell at a large house in a town about half an hour from theirs. After an uncomfortably long wait, when they almost lost their nerve and bolted, the door opened and Brad towered over them. Commanding them to come in, he elaborated on the required agreement. They were forbidden to speak even to each other during the 'negotiation' process. He laid a written contract before them. All their needs would be provided for during their fifty hours of submission each week, but a lot would be required. Pages of fine print specified that they would be clothed as Brad saw fit. They were to address him as 'sir' when others were present and 'master' when they were not. No money would be exchanged in either direction. They would be strictly trained in submissive behavior, a requirement that sent a stir through Harold, realizing that the religious services he had participated in all his life were always submissive behavior. To God? To the Latter-day Pilgrims? Or just to Holy Leader? It didn't matter now.
Helen read further than her husband. By now in a haze of desire, submission and fear, she read an assurance that any required piercings would be in areas covered by a normal 2-piece bathing suit, and birth control was required. Restraint was allowed. Was it too much? Nothing could be too much. Brad was laying it all out - could they accept such a brazen offer from this virtual stranger? Yet Sheila had recommended him, practically demanded that they submit to this man. They knew they had to do it. After an unaccustomed stiff drink that Brad offered, they looked at each other and signed.
Immediately Brad's tone changed. Becoming the patient instructor, he began coaching them on submissive postures and gestures, rules and demands. Sitting on the floor on their heels, heads down, hands in lap, was required of both. Helen was given a second posture as well, sitting on her heels but leaning back, straight arms behind her on the floor supporting her body at an angle, chest pushed forward, knees apart. She blushed, having to lift her skirt to spread far enough to satisfy her master, but of course she complied. After all, they had an agreement. She felt the insides of her thighs burning with the exposure, while Brad and Harold could see her ample breasts straining against her simple cotton blouse. Brad grabbed Helen's head from behind and drew her in to a rough kiss, which she couldn't prevent. Harold was instructed to go into the kitchen and pour wine for all three of them; while he was gone, Brad matter-of-factly removed Helen's blouse, leaving her in her accustomed, industrial-strength bra that hid a clearly impressive pair of breasts. Harold returned, shocked to see his wife so exposed but making no effort to cover herself. Yet something about the situation was deeply satisfying; order was being imposed from the outside.
After further instruction on proper behavior, Brad showed them a back stairway that was formerly for servants, leading them to a tiny bedroom with a slanting ceiling under the eaves. Sheets and blankets were in a closet. They were to sleep naked, something unaccustomed for them. That was a revelation, head-to-toe skin-to-skin contact. Why had they never tried that before? They began to realize how much they had missed in their repressive upbringing.
The next day Brad took his submissives shopping. Helen got a few nice dresses, some with interesting features. One had a very low-cut neckline, finished in a stretchy material. She liked the way her breasts bounced when she tried it on, though she would have been embarrassed to admit it. An expensive strapless number had panels covering her breasts; they could be folded down to reveal a red satin lining below her nipples. She thought that one quite wicked. A short wispy black dress was a bit tight over Helen's bra and panties, but Brad assured her that wouldn't be a problem. A hidden front zipper allowed the slit in the skirt to extend all the way to her waist. Guessing what this was about, she felt a tingling in her crotch, unfamiliar but exciting.
The guessing about the nature of their relationship ended when they visited an out-of-the-way shop specializing in a particular kind of lingerie. Brad picked out several diaphanous bras, including two that were open at the nipple, and one that consisted only of lacy straps outlining where a bra would be. Panties varied from bikini to just a strap around the hips and a narrow band of sheer fabric through the crotch, and another pair with an open crotch. Neither of them had suspected that such things existed. Brad insisted that Helen leave the dressing room and return wearing a very sheer bra and panties. When she protested that she wasn't 'decent', Brad informed her without raising his voice that that would be the last time that she hesitated in obeying his command. Quickly she scampered out, murmuring "Sorry master, um, yes sir..."
Instinctively Helen attempted to hide herself with her hands; Brad folded her arms behind her back, which pressed her breasts forward. Of course she complied, blushing and biting her lower lip. Finally it was happening - he was forcing her to behave in a wicked manner, but it was his demand, so she could excuse her behavior to herself. She found that strangely satisfying. A salesgirl came from behind her counter to look; a few men shopping for their women lingered in the background. Harold was so astonished that he failed to hide the expansion at his crotch. Helen's visible nipples, hard and extended, betrayed her arousal. Her dark pubic hair, clear to everyone, was darkening further with dampness; as Brad spread her knees a little further, a pink slit opened. Unconsciously she strained to push her chest further forward. It was now obvious how large and supple her breasts were. Her eyes began to tear, but she turned on Brad's command and shook her shoulders when he demanded it. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, both to her and to Harold, Brad grasped her chin, embraced her and kissed her on the mouth. Her arms wrapped themselves around his waist as he caressed her back and half-naked bottom. She was lost in his power.
"I'm glad you like me this way, sir, I'm so exposed but that's what you want."
Finally Brad sent her back to the dressing room with one more item. She emerged in bands of soft green fabric around her torso and behind her neck, meeting at her breasts, and a bikini bottom riding barely above her crotch. The suit featured small rings that could be moved along the bunched-up material, exposing more or less skin. Brad adjusted the rings on either side of each breast so that only the thinnest band remained over her nipples. He pulled the rings on the neckband down nearly to her nipples. Brad told her (and everyone else listening) that he liked the pink exposure of her large halos; it gave the suit a sexual edge, and she was particularly lovely with most of her soft, white breast flesh exposed. He slid the rings on the bikini bottom toward the center leaving only a narrow band covering her vulva, pubic hair peeking out on both sides. She knew that she should have been humiliated and embarrassed, but in Brad's dominating presence she felt only an overwhelming submission, one that absolved her of all responsibility for what was happening. That surprised her even more than how Brad exposed her. She could do things that she would never allow herself to do without her new master. Her previous submission had been constant and low-level; here it was sharp, intense, and somehow thrilling. Harold stared at her bare hips, her slightly rounded belly, her trembling nearly uncovered breasts, and found himself stiff again. His body was preparing him for intercourse, though he knew that was impossible in those circumstances.
There were more purchases; a tux for Harold and some more scandalous things for Helen. She didn't have to try on the open-nipple bra or open-crotch panties, but she couldn't help fantasizing about when and how she would wear them. After lunch Brad drove them to a doctor's office where Helen was fitted with an IUD and both of them tested for diseases. At a specialized jewelry store they acquired some items that the couple didn't understand, but Brad hinted would decorate body parts that are normally covered. The three of them went out to dinner with Helen wearing the stretchy low-cut dress, sandals, and nothing else. Self-conscious, Helen could see the nubs of her nipples decorating the contour of her bosom for the whole meal. Twice Brad reached over to rest his hand under her breasts and bounce them. Helen bit her lip and almost said something; it was a public place, after all. But those nubs became even sharper as she felt an unfamiliar, almost frightening sting of sensual pleasure. Her husband stared again, fascinated that his wife could be so sexually attractive.
That evening the three of them settled in to watch a video that Brad had chosen from his private collection. Brad sat Helen next to himself on his broad sofa, but Harold was given only a hard stool. He sat up straight.
The video started with a group of men lounging around a pool. A tall well-proportioned blonde woman appeared, wearing not a bathing suit but a loose white top and a very short skirt, riding low on her hips and barely covering her crotch. She flirted with all the men, stroking their chests, accepting their kisses and brushing her breasts against them. She backed up when the men gathered together, as if knowing what to expect. The camera joined the group, facing her as she leaned over, looking up salaciously and licking her lips as her top fell open, exposing a pair of average-sized, high-riding breasts with prominent, erect nipples. Obviously she knew what they were seeing. Jumping into the pool, the woman quickly ducked underwater and came up again, shaking her long hair behind her. Her top had turned transparent, her nipples forcing folds in the diaphanous fabric. Taking advantage of this, she leaned forward and shook her shoulders to make her breasts wobble and sway. The tiny skirt had floated up while she was in the water, so she daintily held it up as she emerged right in front of the group; her audience could see everything because she wasn't wearing panties. One of the men came around behind her, reaching around to fondle the wanton woman's breasts through her soaked top, finally flipping it up so that the group could see him squeezing lovely bare breasts. She seemed to enjoy it. Repeatedly he pulled them up very high by their impossibly stretched nipples, and everyone watched them jiggle as they settled back down again. He knelt and pulled her skirt down; she didn't object, but lifted one leg to give the men a better view. Still kneeling behind her, this man firmly grabbed her outer lips and pulled, revealing an expanse of puffy pink flesh, quivering with arousal. The camera came in close.
The video paused; the submissive couple sat shocked. While it was playing Brad had removed Helen's blouse again and was gently cupping her breasts through her stiff bra. Harold was commanded to fix some drinks, while Helen had to go up to her room and change to one of her transparent bras. Both men watched her generous tits sway as she returned, Harold uncomfortable with his wife's compromised attire, Brad smiling broadly. As they downed their drinks, beginning to develop a taste for them, Brad sipped his. Helen felt her nipples stiffening, knowing that both men could see them and she couldn't cover up. That excited her, but she didn't know why.
The video continued with the woman lying on her back in front of the group of men; two of them were holding her legs up and out, exposing everything, while others fondled her breasts. The woman had no shame.
Brad was fondling Helen's breasts again, this time feeling their softness and the contrasting sharpness of her nipples. She held her breath. No one had ever done this to her before, not Holy Leader, certainly not her husband.
The men in the video were naked now, all with obscene erect penises. One of them knelt over the woman, turned her head, and put his penis right in her mouth. She didn't even attempt to spit it out, but sucked and slid her lips along it. Another man pulled her hand to his huge, stiff penis, which she squeezed hard and stroked. The camera moved to her belly, looking up at her raised head and two distended nipples, each being fondled by a different man.
The submissive couple were astonished that any woman could submit to so many sex acts, so many men doing nasty forbidden things to her, all at once, a jumble of unimaginable licentiousness. Both of them gasped when one man slowly pressed his penis right into her vagina, with all the others watching. She was being violated, and didn't even scream. Harold felt shame at his own penis reacting. The scene shifted to the woman sitting upright, straddling the man with his penis inside her, while she sucked another one and others played with her breasts. Moaning and screaming, she bounced fiercely on the man, his long rod disappearing inside her. That must be her husband, they thought - how could he allow those others to be so familiar with her? In the next scene she stood leaning over a lounge chair, gripping its arms while another man entered her from behind. She pushed back. Wait - they can't both be her husband! He grunted and roared, withdrawing as another man took his place. When all of the men had been satisfied, the naked woman winked at the camera and sauntered off, fluids running down her thighs.