One Week free porn video

This story is an old one, an experiment from when I was new to fiction and trying out all sorts of narrators and voices and story shapes, looking for the outer edges of what I could do, couldn't do, and loved doing. It's many ways unpleasant because its narrator is ... well, a dirtbag sleaze who deserves what he gets. I set it aside and wrote a more satisfying story of domestic love deceived and yet fulfilled ("Trust Me"), a kind I prefer. Meanwhile I showed this story to one of the best mean streets writers I know (Parker), and even he thought it a little gross. So like Virgil with the Aeneid I kept it by me ten years. It didn't get less offensive. I've only now found it buried in an electronic pile of old drafts of stories in process or in need of repair. It's neither. It's done. It has black comic wit, and while reading it I can feel a certain pride of craft. So despite all I'm now sending it out into the world. Those who like well-wrought sleaze or people who do the nasty, and those who like seeing stupid bad guys get theirs, may enjoy its excesses. If others don't, well, really, life is short, don't read it! One Week by Vickie Tern I. Nobody should have a week like I had! Nobody! Jeez, I still can't figure it! I mean, its a Monday, she starts out as usual, nagging me "Nyahh! Nyahh! Do this! Do that!" Same old crap. "Dave, get off your ass for once and run down to the store and get me some tampons and sanitary napkins! I'm out!" That's what she shouts at me. At Me! You imagine? She's been busy all weekend in the attic and in different closets, cleaning and packing stuff, I don't know what, doing the shit women are always doing around the house. Even now her head's in some damned closet. "Why?" I ask. "What for? You having a period?" Stall her. Wear her down. I'm reading the paper, I've just got to the NBA Won/Lost column, and I'm figuring things. I don't want to be bothered. Not then, not ever when I'm handicapping. I got some serious bets to get down on some upcoming games, you wanna know the truth. Haven't been doing too good lately. "No, you lazy bastard, you are! Just go get them, I'll need them some time soon." "Later. I'm not dressed!" I kick my shoes off. She don't like it when I got my shoes on the couch, and that's where my feet already are, and she's coming in to look as sure as shit. That's what she does. She shows up in the doorway with a big knife in her hand, she's been using it to cut open some boxes I guess. "You bastard Dave!" she says. "Look at that mud all over those couch cushions! You go get me some tampons right now or I'll cut your balls off!" And she starts coming at me. Well, you can tell, the old marriage isn't doing too good. It wasn't so great even before that poker game last week, I tell you. But then? Boy, they never forget! And all over nothing! For nothing! Judge for yourself! Here's what happened. We're playin over at Bill's, it's his turn to be the host, you know? Well, Bill's a real good guy, he taps a quarter keg every time we play there, none of this bottled stuff. Then all night long he keeps topping up our glasses, till its spilling over. I mean, beer coming out of our ears! Pie-eyed and shit-faced you wouldn't believe! Spilling on the cards, too, after a while, so they got hard to shuffle. Sloshed? My hands couldn't even shuffle my own fingers! Then we start spraying beer all over each other, and Bill worries about the carpet, what his wife'll think, but we keep it up, and finally he starts yelling at us. Not so friendly any more. So we figure call it quits and go home. Well, I come home, and am I ever loaded? Pissed? Brenda's asleep when I fall over the hall table on my way in, but that wakes her up, and her mood's not so good from then on. Anyways, I get upstairs, but then I have to piss again, same as I just done outside in the bushes. Well, I miss the pot. So all right, it happens, no big deal! I don't hit it right off! When I open my eyes I see I'm spraying all over, my shoes, the floor, the little bath mat. It was pretty funny! The whole world one big pisspot, and me, I'm the designated pisser! So there I am hosing down the towels, and I'm aiming up at the plants on the window when Brenda comes in and throws her shit into the fan. "Dave, what in hell do you think you're doing?" she shouts in that screechy voice she's got when she's real mad. "You slob! You filthy slob! Put that fucker away! Clean up this mess! Right now! Christ! You wake me up, and I've got to come in here and see this? Damn you! Don't you dare come to my bed tonight you pig! Clean up everything, and sleep on the couch!" And she slams her way back to bed. Well, that really got me pissed (hey, that's funny, get it? but I can't smile too good right now!). I mean, who's her husband, right? So I pull all the towels off the towel bars and throw them into the puddles on the floor, then I throw down all of Brenda's clean panties and slips and stockings and stuff she's got there drying after she washes them, and her favorite purple wool dress she's got hanging up there to get the wrinkles out, I push it into the toilet, and I didn't flush yet from before, neither. There's always her stuff hanging all over the bathroom, teach her! Throw it all into the piss! Bitch! Then I yell out, "There, it's cleaned up!" and I don't even hang around to see. I go into the bedroom. "Get out of here!" she says. "I'm warning you!" Now that really pisses me off! Who the fuck is she to warn me anything? A few times a year she gets out of line like that, I've got to belt her a few good ones to straighten her out. Last time? Shit, broken nose and cheek bone they said, and bruises, her face looked like a fuckin' turnip for months. Thought that fixed her. She told them she fell downstairs, too afraid to tell them I done it. Like that time when I was twisting her arm and broke it. She don't talk. She knows what she'd get! But now I'm tired. So I just says, "You warning me nothing, Brenda. I'm head of this here household, and I do what I like!" Fucking bitch! Fix her! Then I get this idea. Really fix her! Let her know once for all! "And what I like right now is a hot fast fuck, Brenda! You gonna learn about respect! You spread your legs, you cunt! Now!" Well, she just glares at me, and when I get closer she spits in my face. She spits! So what would you do? Bitch! Cocksuckin' whore! I grab her arms and I pin her legs to the edge of the bed with my knees, and I quick shove it into her. Nothing to it! She screams, real high and loud, and she keeps screaming. Well, I'm fucking away, and she's screaming, and after a while she's just whimpering, like some dog been whipped real good, y' know? By God that was what she needed, y' know? A good stiff dick'll straighten a broad out every time, they forget who they are! It felt real good, too, giving it to her that way, pinned down helpless. She gets a hand loose and tries to scratch me in the face one time, so I slam her one right in the chops! Whamm! That stopped her, all right! She just lay there and she don't move, just groans. Well, I bang her some more, and I shoot my load, and then I turn over and go to sleep, same as always. I got up a few more times to piss that night, and I see she ain't in bed. The second time, I'm still holding Long John, pulling on him, you know, and I hear her sobbing and moaning in the living room. Once or twice a real loud cry, terrible, wake the dead! Well, you know, a broad'll do that to get attention, get sympathy. The trick is not to notice. She's done it before, more than once since we got married, different times I had to straighten her out. So I hear her, and I belch up some of Bill's salami sandwiches -- Christ, he lays out a real good salami, lots of garlic! -- and then I go straight back to bed. Serves her right. So she slept on the couch that night, not me! Dumb broad! Try to tell me? Well, a week goes by. It's already Monday again, it's last Monday, a week ago, and the Knicks have a tough schedule coming up, and I got some tough bets to place. She don't say nothing to me the whole time, she just sleeps on the couch so as not to disturb me no more, and I figure maybe finally she learns her lesson. She don't say nothing about anything else either, come to think of it, not the whole week. The whole weekend she's been rattling in the closets. Now all of a sudden out of the blue she interrupts me, I should go to the store and get her some pads and those tube things she shoves up her cunt when she'd flying the red flag. She's got this knife, and she don't ask respectful. So I figure, what the hell. I'll stop by the bar and look up Joe the Greek, put down a bet or two, try to even up my tab with him if he'll front me the money again. No use she goes, she'll bleed on the fucking floor or the car seat, she goes herself. So I stand up. "Ok, Brenda, I'm going. See? You want any kind they got? What size?" "What size?" she says. "What do you think, what size? What do you think, when it's your prick is the only other thing ever gets put in there. Junior size!" See? Respect? You blame me, I kick her ass now and then? They stick it to you every chance they get. So what I do is, I go to the store, and I buy her Xtra Supers. Just to make a point. You got to keep them in line. But on the way back it don't go too good with Joe the Greek. He's sitting in the back of the bar like always, all right. But his eyes are like rubber knobs. Like he don't see me. Says no way, I'm already into him for a few big ones, quite a few, and I'm way behind in my payments. He means to impress me I should pay my debts, he says, in another couple of days. Then he starts reading his dog turf sheet, and he don't hear me no more for shit! That gets me worried. Joe the Greek, he don't fuck around. First time you don't make a payment, his guys break a few fingers for you. So any time you reach for money after that, you remember whose it is. The second time they work you over like a sack of shit, kick in your balls and break all the bones in your face with a baseball bat. Joe keeps the bat just behind him, leaning on the wall, so a guy comes in to borrow money, he can see it. Then from then on everyone can tell from the guy's face what happens if they don't pay up, and the guy can feel it in his balls the rest of his life, if he's got any balls left the way they work you over. I once asked a guy about it, face all mashed and still gimpy a year later, and he wouldn't say. The third time you're dead. No more messages. I seen it happen. Anyhow, last year, Brenda's out of town visiting her fuckin' Aunt, so I got no money for a payment, I forgot to ask her and she don't leave me none, and crackle!, my thumb and two fingers are in a cast for six weeks! Shit! I told him wait till Brenda gets home, he'll get his money. He says, "This is your first." That's all he says. Now he says to me, "Couple days, it'll be your second." That's all. Well, this ain't too good a time to ask Brenda for extra money again, like I did the last few times. Not since that poker game. Not since I piss up the bathroom, and fuck her good, let her know who's on top cramming it in! I figure, maybe I'll hit up the boss for an advance in the morning. So I bring her her damn tampon things, and she takes them, but she still don't talk to me, the bitch! II. Well, the next night it's Tuesday, and I come home from the shop and I sit down to dinner. It's been a real crap day! The boss tries to fire me again, and the Union rep has to talk him out of it again. Big deal! So I hammer a bolt into a big machine part they're making, and the shop super says I ruined it. So what? They change the specs, it don't fit, ya gotta clobber it to make it fit! Cocksucker! What else am I supposed to do? You can't look close at the specs all the time. Well, maybe at that bookkeeper with the great tits, her specs! Now there's a piece of ass I could bang all day. She fits me real good, no problem! Boy, I was fucking her all through last year. Then some bastard calls himself "A Friend" writes to Brenda and tells her, and Brenda really blows up! Shit! That time I really had to smack her down to make her shut up, I can get some peace and quiet! Bitch! I come in now and I sit down to dinner. Fuck the boss and fuck the Union rep and fuck the whole fucking fuckassed crew! "Not even gonna wash your hands?" Brenda says. "No, I'm hungry!" See? Head of the household! "Then here it is! Here's your dinner!" And she puts a plate in front of me. And what's on the plate? By God, I look, and I don't believe it! Three bloody tampons! Squashed, one with brown streaks on it and two of them bright red, soaked through. One of them has some kind of glob of mucous on it, still shiny wet. I stand up so fast I knock over my chair. "What the hell is this?" I shout at her. "You gone crazy?" "No, I haven't gone crazy," she says. Brenda, there's an edge in her voice I ain't never heard before, real mean! I mean like steel! She's glaring at me, and I notice she's edged over next to the front door. "That's your first course, Dave. Eat it! You got a choice. Stay and suck on those tampons till they're clean and you use up all the flavor. Or else you go get your dinner somewhere else, you son of a bitch. But you leave, when you get back, I'm gone! For good! And my money with me! You never see me or my money again! It's hid where you can't get at it. And I've packed my bags, and they're stowed too, so don't think I'm not serious. You do what I say from now on, or you live alone on that nothing salary they pay you, you good for nothing son of a bitch! And then you'll find out what your buddy Joe the Greek thinks of that! So eat your dinner, my little man! I'll watch!" "I do what you say? That's my choice? I'll choice you!" I shout at her. I start toward her with my fist way out there, oh boy, I'm really gonna let her have it! Smash her nose in! Bitch cocksucker! But her hand's on the doorknob. "You come at me any closer," she says, "I'm out this door and I'm gone. Then you got no money, and you're dead. You hit me, I come back and kill you! I mean it! I got a gun, and it's loaded, and I know where it is, and I know how to use it! You fall asleep, you're dead. That's your choice you shit, you rapist, you two-timing wifebeating bastard!" She sounds near tears, but she gets no sympathy from me! Even so, I have to stop and think. I didn't mention it yet, but all the money in the house is hers. From the insurance, when her folks got killed in a car crash a few years ago. The company settled for real big bucks. That was when I figured what the hell, make my moves on her and marry her! And she's all broke up, at that point a sucker for the old sympathy game, you know? So we get married. I wanted to use the money, place some really big bets right off for once, you know? Double it, triple it overnight. But Brenda never lets me touch it. There it sits in some goddam broker's office, earning interest and dividends and crap. It brings in four times what I make at the shop, maybe more. We live pretty good on it. Nice house, Caddy in the driveway, I go to Vegas twice a year, and Brenda changes jobs whenever she feels like it, this art gallery, that boutique, other places she can wear her dynamite clothes. It's a pretty good deal. The interest and stuff goes into a bank account, and I can draw up to half monthly whenever I want, no questions asked. Just sign for it and spend it. It goes fast, but my credit's good around town, so who needs to work? Anyhow, a few months after we get married Brenda's moaning and pissing I seem to have lost my purpose in life, lying around the house, I should go find something to do. What purpose? It was to marry a rich broad, and that's what I done. But she's fed up with me, and she nags me I should go do something useful. I fed her a knuckle sandwich the first time. A few times. But would she quit? Stubborn cunt! So I get this crap job, and then another when they fire me for "incompetence," or "insubordination," or whatever they call it. Big words for I won't eat their shit. Well, who do they think they are anyways? But now listen to her! "You come at me again, you hit me, you're dead," she says. I married this? Motherfucker! But I better stop and think. "Look," I say to her. "Be reasonable! Eat your fuckin' bloody tampons? That's sick!" "Yes I suppose it is. But you better get used to it. That's only the beginning. From now on your ass is mine. You live with me, you live with me on my terms. And you're not gonna like them. I've taken a lot of crap from you, now it's my turn. I'm gonna fix you good." I just stand there. She takes her hand off the doorknob, she sees she's got me. "I know about that bookmaker down at the corner bar. Joe the Greek. I talked to him. I set up a payment schedule, enough so from now on you're just one day away from his people coming after you. He said, whatever I do with you is my business, just so he gets his money. But when I split from you I should let him know, he would appreciate it. So he can motivate you to keep up your obligations to him no matter what." "So, whattaya say? You'll eat your first course tonight? You don't have to swallow the cotton, just suck everything out of it. But I mean everything. You get those tampons nice and clean, then maybe you get something halfway decent to eat. Not what you like, not a steak or a pizza, but what I want you to eat! Fixed my way! And you'll eat it!" Now she leans on the door, feeling pretty sure of herself. "You don't get those tampons clean, you want to stay here, keep living here, your next course is a piece of shit. You think I'm kidding? There's one in the kitchen right now, in a baggie. I made it for you first thing this morning. Its waiting to see if someone wants to eat it. That's you. And you'll eat shit, if I tell you. You'll eat it all, if it comes to that, and you'll ask for more, and you'll get more. Or I'm gone! So it's up to you. I'm waiting!" I say nothing. She turns and starts to open the door. "No, don't!" I say. Suddenly I get frightened. "I'm sitting, I'm sitting!" I've got two days to square myself with Joe the Greek, maybe only one! I pick up my chair, and I set it in front of my plate at the table, and I look at those damned bloody tampons, and I sit down. She's got me. What I earn from that fucking job don't even pay the vig on my credit cards the way they're all maxed out. So now I have to figure out what to do with the goddam things. Suck? Chew? It turns out, a little of everything. You think this kind of talk is disgusting? You try sucking on a used tampon, you want disgusting. I start on the brown one, old blood I figured, dry, get used to it. A mistake. There's a rancid flavor, and it takes a long time for the brown stain to soften, so I can suck up what I can and spread the rest around on the cotton. The taste is foul. Then I thought the fresh red ones would be better, but they was worse. Took up the one looked like it had snot on it, and gobs of blood and clots of other red stuff, and I crammed it into the back of my mouth, so I wouldn't have to taste it. No use. A smell like old rusty iron, real acrid, and bitter? My tongue came around it and began to lick it off inside my mouth. Putrid? I chew away on it, and try to think about something else. But there's that same sharp stink, worse than piss, reminds me what I'm doing. Finally they're back on my plate, looking kind of light brown all over, except one a little rosy. I look up. I don't even notice before that Brenda has sat down in her usual place, opposite me, watching me the whole time with a mean grin on her face. She's enjoying herself! "Very good, dear, for now," she says like some goddam schoolteacher. "Considering its still new to you. I like the way you slurped up that glob of mucus so you could taste it nice and fresh, like an oyster. You'll do better tomorrow. That's your appetizer for a few more days, menstrual blood, till I'm over my period. I'm cooking your tomorrow's portion inside me right now. Maybe next month you can suck it out of me straight, fresh and still flowing, you'll like that better maybe. But only as a reward for good behavior." "Brenda, I don't like them," I said. My mouth is still twisted from the taste. "Dave, I don't give a shit what you like," Brenda said. "From now on, love me, love my tampons. Now, here's your next course. You've earned it. I'll just stay to see you get started." She set down a plate, fish in a kind of cream sauce, and some mashed potatoes with brown gravy. The cream sauce is cloudy and runny, not creamy at all, and I hate fish, but what the hell. I've eaten worse. I'm thinking meanwhile, this broad's gone crazy, how can I get out of this. Get a real job, full time? Take all that crap from some supervisor who don't know shit? I pick up my fork and taste the fish. A little salty, a little like lemon, and it tastes a lot fishy. But I can eat it. My wife watches me take the first bite, then stands up. "Finish all of it. The sauce took time to make, and I want you to lick the platter clean. I'll be back soon. I've got things to do, now I know you're listening to reason." She was in charge, all right. When she got back I was sitting there looking at a plate could have been put back on the shelf, it was that clean. I was thinking what can I do? Try to kill her before she kills me, call it self-defense? Call her bluff, and beat her up real bloody this time, so she can't move? Do what she says, and hope she'll get tired of it? No way is she gonna walk away from me with all that money. But I don't do what she says, Joe the Greek does what he says! She brings me a cup of coffee. I thought it was coffee, reheated. Real sour. But I look for a second cup, she says, "I'm glad you like it. It's Instant. I'll just go make some more. You wait." She goes in the kitchen, and I listen, and there's no getting around it. I hear a woman pissing into a pot, first a tinkle, then a steady stream, then burbling. I hear the Micro beep. Another few minutes, she comes back with another cup. Instant stirred into it. God, it stank! "Drink every drop, same as the other cup, or you know what," she says. "Would you like cream or sugar? I know usually you don't take them, but maybe in this case." "Both," I say. "Both." I drink it down. I begin to feel nauseous, and start to get up. "You better stay where you are," she says. "And make sure your dinner stays where it is, too. If you vomit it up you'll lick it all back down again, the way a dog does. Or else. If you vomit into the toilet you'll drink up all the toilet water too. I don't want you to lose any nourishment." I sit down again, and I breath heavy until I feel a little better. "Now you clean up from dinner. All the dishes and pots, and then the kitchen too. You are never again going to leave any room a mess like that bathroom last week. You clean up everything from now on. You're the housemaid in this house! Understood?" I nod. "You are never gonna think of treating me with anything but the utmost respect. Respect, you hear me?" I nod. "And absolute obedience!" Jesus! I nod. "Well then, to start off, kiss my ass!" She turns and bends over, and flips up her skirt. There's her whole bum, covered by her panties. She means it! "Hey, Brenda!" I try charm. "Hey! C'mon! Hey!" Still bent over, she says, "You kiss my ass right now or you kiss me and my money goodbye. And from what I hear, that means you kiss your own ass goodbye too!" What can I do? I kneel down and kiss her on the panties. "Not on my panties, you shit! On ny ass! Dead center! Pull my panties down to my ankles, and spread my cheeks, and kiss me on my asshole. Get your nose right in there. Your nose and your mouth are gonna get real friendly with my asshole, so they might as well get used to it right now." I kiss her asshole. I rub my nose on the puckered opening, and give it a few licks. Thank God she's always been a clean woman! It isn't too bad. Then I stand up. "You done with me now?" I ask. "You think I'm done? Let me tell you. Last week, after you raped me, you dog scum, I went to a lawyer. Told him all about you. Nice young guy, Tom. I like him. He told me how to deal with you, the criminal charges for raping a wife, and how to hit you where you live, below your money belt. He found out about this Joe the Greek for me. He just asked me questions, and made some phone calls, and then he told me that your balls had dropped right into my hand. Now all I gotta do is squeeze! That's how come your ass is mine! 'Grab his balls, his ass will follow,' Tom said. 'Forget about capturing hearts and minds. Those you don't need.'" "You know something else? Not all men are pieces of shit like you. I've got the feeling, if I let that young lawyer kiss my ass, he'd think it's a privilege. I'm pretty sure of it. That's real respect for a woman! I like that. I think I will let him." "You finished with me?" I ask. Kiss a broad's ass? That's a man? That's sick! I don't wanna hear that crap! "I will be when you've cleaned up the kitchen. For tonight, anyhow. Then take your pyjamas and whatever you need for tomorrow out of my bedroom and set up that spare cot in the sewing room. That's where you sleep from now on. It's my bedroom now, and I do whatever I want in it. You hear? Anything I want. If I want to bring another man in there, that's what I do. And I'll tell you right now, that's what I mean to do. You got any problem with that?" What can I say? I just glare at her. "Maybe I'll invite you into my bedroom, maybe I won't. Don't count on it. But you just remember. You hesitate to do anything I say, ever, or you speak just one word of protest against any of it, one word, and I'm outa here so fast you don't even see the blur." Boy, was I mad? She talks to me that way?! She looks at me more closely. "If you're going to look at me like that, I'm out the door. You look at me with respect, or else you look at the floor." I look at the floor. My guts are curled up in a fury, and I can't speak anyhow. "Let me advise you, you better get to bed soon. Get as much sleep as you can. Tomorrow you clean everything in this house, and I mean every room, wall, and floor, and everything in them. So sleep now, while you can. Maybe not tomorrow, but some night real soon you'll be busy all night. I don't know when, yet. Never mind why." My marriage is not what it was. III. So Wednesday morning I wake up, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this crazy bitch. I figure I better take the day off from work, so I call in and tell them I need two weeks, personal emergency. The boss gets on, and then the Union rep, and we talk a while. The upshot is, the snotnosed bastard fires me, and the rep goes along with him, the suckass!. Can you figure that? Says he's glad to get rid of me, and thanks me for giving him "adequate cause" he calls it. That dickheaded prick! That... well, never mind. Now my ass really is Brenda's. I have to think hard. I spend the day cleaning, like she says. Way back I worked for a carpet cleaning service, you know the scam, run a rotating brush on old worn rugs for a $20 bargain, then sell the housewives a dollar of cheap detergent in a fancy bottle for $85 so they can clean the next time themselves. So I know about cleaning. Even so, she's after me all day, with this polish and that oil and this wood and that formica, and do it right the first time! Jesus! She never knew how close she came a few times to good old John Fist! But I gotta be careful. Then that night she serves me three more tampons, all of them bright red, two really dripping with her pussy snot. She kept them in a baggie for me. I tough it out, same as the day before. Begin to notice that the really bright red stuff is salty, but not really disgusting. Then she serves me a bowl of "Chili" she calls it. It looks like brown sludge from a cesspool. "What is this shit?," I say, spoon in hand, so she won't start for the door again before we can even talk. "Is it real shit?" I take a spoonful and put it in my mouth, so she don't think I'm not cooperating. Feeaghhh! I got no idea what it is. "No, dear. If I ever serve you a turd, you can bet when I put it in front of you I'm going to tell you, 'Eat shit!' I'd never deny myself that pleasure. Swallow first. There. Try another. Better? Now, if you must know, it's dog vomit. When you got nauseous yesterday, you reminded me we should try it. It was hard to come by. I asked everyone we know with a dog if they could help me out, and I told them why I wanted it. Dave, one or two of your friends didn't believe me, but most of them thought it was about time. Anyhow, their dogs wouldn't cooperate. In the end, I got lucky at a vet's. He said it was pure dog kibble, and came out of a healthy dog just ate too much, that's all. So it's good for you. Nourishing. Finish it all, you creep!" So that's what I do. No use making her mad, me without a job, and my payment to the bookie hanging there every day along with my balls. But I'm pretty well fed up. After I clean up the kitchen. I look around, and Brenda's in front of a television, reading about some bridge in Madison County, which is way downstate from here. "Dave," she says. "From now on, I wake up, you have breakfast ready for me. Better think about it right now, because tomorrow morning when I wake up is too late!" And she goes back to reading about this bridge, and looking at the tube now and then. Anyways, I figure she's busy, so it's OK for me to duck out to the neighborhood bar and talk to the boys. My life is getting really weird! I see Joe the Greek over in the corner, and he waves at me real friendly, but his eyes don't change, and he don't smile. Christ! I lift a few brews, and I watch the Lakers game, and I argue point spread with some of the guys. One of them has a dog, I know, but he don't' say nothing and I don't ask. I sure as hell don't tell anyone I'm now living with a crazy woman. Then when I get home, it's as if I'd pissed all over the whole downstairs! "Who gave you permission to go out?" she screams. Well, actually, she whispers it real low, but the sound drills right through my skull the way she says it. "Dave you miserable scumbag, I was gonna wait, but your life changes right now, tonight! Never again!" I just go on to my room, and pay her no mind. How can things get worse? IV. Well, when Brenda wakes up the next morning, I'm downstairs fixing her breakfast, and she says, "C'mon back upstairs, Dave. I want you to see what you got yourself into last night." She's still furious. We we walk into my room, and she says, "Look in the closet!" So I look. Someone has took away my pants and jeans and sports jackets, and has hung some women's dresses in there instead. She takes one out. Boy, it was for some sexy broad! It has what looks like a tight black lacy top made to fit around real big boobs, and a short skirt that comes out from the waist and I bet wouldn't even go down far enough to cover her hips. She takes some long lacy stockings out of my top drawer, where I keep my socks. And a brassiere, one of them women's harnesses that are always in the way when you wanna cop a feel. "You want to go talk to the boys, Dave? Well, wiggle your ass down to the bar in this! It's stupid fetish gear, nothing any self-respecting girl would want to wear if she has real work to do, like scrubbing on her hands and knees. At best it's for sucking dick on your hands and knees. It's for whores, for turning men on. I wasn't gonna get you into these things until later, but now's the time. So here's a new rule. These are your clothes from now on, Dave. You wear only what's in this closet. And you wear everything that goes with them, underwear, wigs, high heels when you're serving company, everything. You want to leave the house? Wear these. Go on down to the bar, and see if you can get lucky! Play kissy with your buddies and earn money for Joe the Greek! He tells me if you don't pay him, you got Number Two coming up." "There's another new rule, too. From now on, if you don't measure up it isn't me that leaves this house. I like it here, now I'm in charge. It's you that'll leave. And never come back! That'll be it!" She glares at me. "I've already filed papers, and you're here on my sufferance. You hear me?" I hear her. "Now get into the bathroom and shave everything but the top of your head, you puke. I want your body bald as an egg, Use this lotion to get even more hairless. Then come back here, and you put on every piece of clothing I leave on this bed. You need help, ask. But make no mistake! From now on, you are Dave the Fairy Queen, and every day from now on you are going to learn what that means! Now, who are you?" I stand silent and glare back at her. This stupid cunt has gone to Mars! "Who are you?" she asked again, her voice raising. She leans over at me. "I'm Dave the Fairy Queen, is who," I answer. I try to unclench my teeth, but they won't let go. "You bet your ass you are," Brenda says. "You better believe it! I want you downstairs in this sex-service uniform ready to begin your day in one hour. So move it!" So she leaves me to go get hairless. I think how far I can get till Joe finds me, if I run now. Where can I go with no money? Joe is connected. So I go into the bathroom like she says, and I do like she says. Son of a bitch! Well, it was a dumb outfit. I got shaved and hairless and stuff, and come out naked, and Brenda shows me how to put on the stockings, and the brassiere, and stuff. She hauls out two jelly sacks of some kind to put in the damn brassiere, and it's embarrassing. I ask her if I gotta have them, these big boobs, and she says no, I can always grow my own if I prefer. So I put them in. She sticks a wig on my head with curly hair down past my ears, and she smears things on my face, and she messes with my eyes, and puts lipstick on my mouth. Lipstick!. Then she says we're ready to go down. So we do. "Go look at yourself in the mirror," she says. I do, the one in the front hall. I see a dumpy-looking broad in a sexy outfit, skirt way up, real short. She looks ready to fuck anything that moves. "I wish I had a cock," says Brenda, "You look real tempting. Now go chat up the boys at the bar. Tell them how much an hour." By now I got nothing to say at all. "Something else, Dave. Now you're the servant girl around here, I want you to behave like one. When I tell you to do something, from now on, you say 'Yes ma'am" and you curtsy. You pinch the edge of your skirt on both sides with your fingertips and you pull it out a little, and you put your right leg back a bit on tiptoe and you bob your knees. Like this. Now do it!" I do it, sort off. Almost fall over. But this broad has me by the balls. "I didn't hear you, Dave," is all she says. "Yes'm" I say, and I do it again. "Yes ma'am!" "Yes, ma'am." "Yes ma'am what?" "Yes, ma'am," I said, and I curtsied. "Yes. Yes, ma'am. You do it any time I talk to you. Now keep practicing that all day, Dave. I'm going out now. I'll be back around five. Put your high heels on by then, I'm bringing home a guest." Boy, I start to sweat at that one! "You better practice walking in those heels all afternoon, Dave, because you're gonna serve us dinner tonight, and I don't want anything spilled. And remember how to greet me when I get home. Or you're out the door in one minute, dressed just the way you are, and your friend Joe goes looking for you. That's how it is." She paused. "You hear me?" "Yeah, sure." I say. Somebody's gonna see me dressed like a goddam faggot? In my own home? "What!" She really barks out all of a sudden. It surprised even me! "Yes ma'am," I say, and I curtsy. I feel like a fucking fool, but I grab my skirt and I bob up and down a little, like she says. "You better believe it!" she says. And she's out the door. Well I do the work around the house, like she wants. You know how queer she's making me? Middle of the day I see this broad in the mirror, a real dog, you know, but she's saying "Fuck me!" every time she moves, in that splayed out skirt with the high stockings. So I haul out my meat and I beat it off, looking at me in the mirror the whole time. Christ! But it coulda been worse, y' know? Anyhow, that's the first time I gotten off since I fucked Brenda after the poker game. Then I put on the high heels and I'm prancing around in them, and my hips swing, and I see it in the mirror again and again I whip it out for some more long strokes. And in walks Brenda, and catches me at it. "Don't be shy, little girl," she says. "Just take hold of that thing again for me, would you?" So I do. Boy is my face ever red. Never been caught since I was a kid! "What do you say?" There's an edge in her voice. Oh yeah! I remember. "Yes, ma'am," I say, and I curtsy with one hand, old Long John still in the other. "I want to make this unforgettable for you, Dave. So now say it again, and then again, and keep curtsying each time, and jerk yourself off at the same time, in the same rhythm, and then cum in your hand." I just stare at her. "Didn't you hear me?!" "Yes, ma'am," I say, "Yes, ma'am...Yes, ma'am,...Yes, ma'am,"and I start dipping and pulling on me, and pulling on my skirt with my other hand. It gets pretty wild! And hot too! I blow, all of it into the palm of my hand, both hands to catch it all, and she says, "OK, Dave, eat it." "What!" "You can't hear me?" she shouts. "I said eat it! When we first got married, that's what you told me I should do, it tastes good! So I did it, for a while. So now you do it! Get used to it! Whatta ya say!?" "Yes ma'am," I say, and I curtsy as best I can with my hands full of my own jism. Then I slurp it up. Best thing I've had to eat all week. "Ok, you shit. No, no more name-calling. You resemble a woman now, and a woman is due respect. Dave, dear, go out and empty the car of packages. That's tonight's dinner, and Tom is due any minute. "Out there?" I shout at her, a little desperate? "In the driveway? Dressed like this?" "Are you talking to me? I don't hear you." I curtsy, but I can't say "Yes'm" like she wants. I'm too pissed off. Also scared. "Dave, one more hesitation when I ask for something, and you've had it! But this time I'll take that outcry as a request for clarification. Yes. Out there. Dressed the way you are. To be dressed like a woman is to be dressed respectably, even though that outfit is a slut whore's. Be proud you look like a slut whore, Dave, and bring in those packages." She stands straight and stiff and she waits. "Yes ma'am" I say, and I curtsy again. And I do it. Broad daylight. Paper boy goes by on his bike and whistles at me. Jesus! But I don't think he can tell I'm a guy. And that gives me an idea for later on. Well she gets dinner ready and the door chimes go off. "Get that, will you Dave?" the wife shouts from the kitchen. "That's Tom! Remember to be polite and curtsy to him." Tom! That fucking lawyer! Shit! Shit!! Still, no escaping it. I open the door, and there's this thin young guy there, and he looks at me amused. "C'min, sir," I says. And I curtsy at him. "You must be Dave," he says. "The husband. The rapist. Beats up on women. The unlucky gambler. You look real cute now, Dave. Gettin' any?" And he hands me his hat and walks in, don't even wait for an answer. Bastard! Brenda comes in and shows him the sideboard, and he fixes her a drink, and one for himself, out of my liquor. And he don't even see me any more, looks right through me, same as Joe the Greek. Brenda gets my eye and waves her head toward the kitchen. I get the picture, and I leave them and go there. Well, I serve them the food when they're ready for it. Brenda's told me to dish it up in our best china she's laid out, a soup tureen, covered dishes, stuff like that. So I do. Those high heels are murder, but I can handle them. When I bring in some kind of chilled desert Brenda says, "Very nicely done, Dave. Your dinner's in the oven on low heat. You can eat it now. Be sure you do. I'll know if you don't." I look, and she don't have to tell me what it is. First course her bloody tampons, warm from the oven. And another plate, a cowshit pie with some kind of slimy sauce. I seen plenty of them when I was a kid, used to sneak into a dairy barn and stick sharp nails into the cows' asses. Boy, I could make them dumb cocksuckers moo real loud! I sit down at the kitchen table, and I look through the kitchen door into the dining room, and there in the mirror on the far wall I see Brenda's eyes. They sparkle at something this Tom is saying, but they're looking straight at me. So I work on the tampons, and I eat the pie. Sonofabitch! Well, when I finish the dishes I look in, and they're nowhere. So I sit down to read the paper. After a while I hear a noise upstairs, some kind of moaning and the bed is squeaking. By Christ, he's up there slipping it to my old lady! I'll bust his ass, is what I think! So I charge straight up the stairs, and when I get to the top our bedroom door opens, and Tom steps out, buckling his pants. I see Brenda lying way back on our bed looking at us. She's wearing her slip. no dress. "Now listen, you fucker!" I shout at him, "I'm this lady's husband, and ..." And that's as far as I get. His hand snakes under my skirt and grabs my balls, and gives them a twist and yanks them down, and I'm down on my knees from the pain, except that I can't get there because now he's pulling my balls up and toward him. Jesus has he got a strong grip! "O yeah!" he says, "You're the husband who doesn't want to kiss his own wife's ass. That sweet ass. Well let me tell you," and he looks at her through the door, and she smiles at him, "I love your wife's ass. I really do. You don't know what good is!" Then he lets go and walks downstairs, and he's gone out the door! So I walk into the bedroom to have it out with Brenda, right then and there. I don't give a fuck any more, she thinks she's gonna fuck other men? In my house? Who the hell does she think she is, and where does she think she is? Well, she's on the bed all right, on her back, with her ass way high up on a cushion and her pussy way up in the air, and her body and her legs are draped down on each side. She's looking at me still smiling, only it's to herself. "Brenda!" I say. Gotta sound stern. She pays no attention. "This is for your convenience, lover," she says. "Eat me." Well, I look at her twat, and there's her slit plain as day. It's all glistening and red and swollen, her pussy lips too, and there's still a sort of hole there hasn't closed up yet, as if something huge was in there just before. And then right while I'm watching, what comes drooling out from inside there but a thick blob of pearly snot, kind of. It starts to bubble out. I think at first it's pus, maybe, Brenda's got the clap. Then I realize what it is. "Hurry, Dave, dear. I feel Tom starting to dribble out of me. Whatever drips down into my ass, that's where you'll have to lick it out. No matter how far in you have to go to get it. So you better get started." "Brenda that's that guy's scum!" I say. "I don't eat no scum! I ain't no fucking faggot! No way!" I started to turn, still boiling mad! "Stay there!" she commands, and her voice shatters my ears. I freeze. Her face is furious. "First of all, remember what I said about protests! You do anything I say when I say it! You leave this room, you better keep walking out that front door! Second, I'm doing you a favor! Today you get used to it, eating cum, yours, Tom's, anyone's I say. You better, because tomorrow you start to suck cock all by yourself, oh yes, you bastard, and you don't get this near me ever again. Third, my dear Dave, you are too a fucking faggot! Look at you, how you're dressed! Fourth, what's the big deal? You've been eating cum all week. That's what the fish sauce is, with a little lemon, and the gravy on the dog vomit too, with maybe a dash of soy sauce. Tonight I'll admit I got creative -- I put in some garlic and curry so you'd enjoy it more. But you've been slurping and sucking cum all week, Tom's and some other men's, you'll find out whose soon enough. You've got friends, quite a few, who don't mind jerking off so you can eat their cum. Laughing all the while! So get down on your knees! Let me know when you can't reach any more with your tongue and then I'll do you a favor, I'll sit on your face and squeeze the rest into your mouth. Now what do you say? Then do it! Quick!" "Yes ma'am," I say. I curtsy. Meanwhile I keep staring. More of Tom is globbing out of her while we talk, cloudy and shiny, viscous, like thick syrup. I stick out my lower lip and I drop down on her like a stone, and I push my tongue way out, and way in, and then I slurp. I bury my whole nose in her so I can get my tongue practically into her asshole, and then I give a mighty swipe up her slit, and then more licks, until I can feel her slit inside her ass cheeks is clean. I'm working her with my whole head. Then back to sucking the cum still pouring out that swollen hole. Christ, how big a prick has he got? How much cum can he shoot? I bury my tongue way down inside her, and lick some more. Then when I can't reach any more, I just turn around, and sit on the floor with my neck on the edge of the bed and my head way back. And I wait. "OK" she says, "That's a good Dave." She slides her ass off the pillow and onto my face, and she sits up. Her thighs cover my ears, and my nose pries its way into her puckered asshole, opening it up like a shoehorn. "Ahhh!" she says, sounds surprised and pleased in spite of herself. She squeezes down on my face as if squeezing out a turd, and my mouth is wide open pressed around her pussy, and all of a sudden, more cum starts to dribble into my mouth, first a trickle, then one huge slimey glop, then another. I started to choke. "You better swallow it, boy, or else stop breathing." I swallow it. "And before you go to bed tonight, I've got something here, you use some jelly on it and you shove it up your ass, and that's where it is from now on, except when you crap or when I say take it out." I nod, and my nose burrows deeper into her cunt. No way to get out of it. What she's got for me for after is this dildo, kind of, a big eight-inch prick, never seen nothing like it, huge purple cock head, narrow at the base, then finished with a flat rubber disk and no balls. I see when I get it all in with the jelly, and I can feel that I can't crap it out. My asshole will hold it in place. V. The next morning I dress up in all that girls' shit and put more of it on my face, and that wig, and I'm down in the kitchen making bacon and eggs for my wife. I always thought Brenda was a twit, y' know, with money. A bimbo. But now she's in charge, I see she's no one to fuck with. So I gotta stay on her good side, y'know? I got this plan I'm working on. So I figure bacon and eggs and toast. She comes down and sits down, and I put the plate in front of her, and she looks up surprised. "Very good, Dave. You're getting to be a nice little housemaid. You need to fix your lipstick though." She takes a bite while I fix it. "You know, Tom asked how come I don't call you "Fifi" or "Clarisse" or some cute maid's name like that, what I'm doing to you. I told him I want you to know all the time, it's you I'm doing this to. Dave, my husband, my own special rapist bully asshole. Which reminds me, is that butt plug installed? Good. To get a girl's name you have to earn it. You've got a way to go yet, Dave." I pour her coffee, but I don't say anything. Y'see? Now she's lording it all over me. Because she's got money and I don't, and I need hers. Rich people do that to us all the time. Think they're better than we are! "Today you clean the whole house again for the weekend. It's gonna get busy tomorrow. Tom's invited over for dinner again. And this time, I want you to get acquainted with his cum first hand. You'll find a dildo on your bed when you go back up, a big 9 inch strap on thing. I want you to strap it to the back of a chair so it sticks out about cock height, and then every hour on the hour, all day, I want you to suck it off. Take maybe ten minutes each time, and really lavish your love on it, tongue and mouth and lips. By this afternoon I want you deep-throating it. If you gag, you gag, so learn how not to. Tonight you are going to suck my lover's cock. The cock I love to have deep inside me, in the same place you raped me. Tonight you suck off my lover as my special gift to him. And you'd better be superb at it. I mean to drain him first, that wonderful man, really fuck his brains out till he can't get it up any more. Then I'll call you in. So for you to get him going again you'll have to be really good. You better practice cocksucking like some nympho teenager with a whole football team lined up! And you'd better swallow every inch and every drop. I want Tom to tell me you gave him the best head he's ever gotten, even better than mine. Or out you go!" So what can I say? That night they go out for dinner and I eat leftovers from the fridge, fish with cum, a little dog puke in a covered dish. She tells me save the extra cow flop in there for tomorrow -- my friends'll wanna see me eat it for themselves when they come over, they don't believe it. Heat it in the micro. I can take it another two days. But then my plan goes to work! Brenda and this Tom come home around ten and Brenda comes to check I ate my dinner. Then she says, "You hear me and Tom go up to my bedroom, you take this towel and you follow us in. You go into the closet and shut the door. We call you, you come out very obedient, curtsy, and do what we ask, then you go back in and wait there some more. Understood?" Who wouldn't understand? She wants me to listen in while Tom balls her, my old lady! They sit and talk in the living room and have a few drinks, laugh in low voices, sound like they're having a fine old time, and I sit in the kitchen. They go upstairs after a while, arms wrapped around each other, her head leaning on his shoulder. I follow them and do what she says. And waddaya know, there's a chair in the closet, and when I sit down I see the keyhole is eye level. So I look. By God he's nine inches if he's an inch, just like that damned dildo I finally got down my throat only late in the afternoon. And there he is, he's balling her, on top, underneath, sideways, and sixty-nining her, and Brenda, she's shrieking, or she's moaning, or she's shouting "Oh, fuck me, lover, yes! yes!" and other dirty things like that. Each time she comes she hollers something different, four, five times he gets her really going, and each time he pushes deep and squirts into her. Into my wife! They take a break after a few hours, and Brenda calls me out of the closet to wipe them off and then change the sheets, they're pretty wet. "Enjoying it, Dave?" she asks? But she's paying no attention how I answer. I don't think she cares. Then it's getting light in the room, morning, and I'm nodding off, and she calls out "Dave, now let's see if you learned anything yesterday sucking off that dildo. Get my man back up and blow him. And remember, you better be good." Well, I am good. It's part of my plan, see. Sunday I'm gonna make my break. Dressed up like a broad, Joe's men'll never find me. I figure I can go down on some guys in a bar somewhere, $25 a pop, they'll think it's a hot babe done it, and I've got some money to get out of town for a while until Brenda can come to her senses and pay Joe off all the way, and we can get back to the way we were. So I really had put in the hours practicing on that dildo, licking, sucking, nibbling, throating, swallowing even while I'm throating. That skill is my ticket out! Christ, his thing is soft, but it's as big as mine when I'm hard! I take it in my mouth and it tastes like that fish dinner. His cum and all those juices from Brenda I figure. But I go to work. It takes me near an hour, kneeling on the floor while Dave lies back on the bed with his legs over the edge for me to get at him, and Brenda sits on his face and he sucks on her while Brenda watches me, and encourages me, saying, "Oh, very good, little girl" or "Why are you doing that? Oh, I see! Brilliant! My husband is a genius at sucking cocks!" Finally when I've got him hard, by God he's enormous! and he's getting excited, and he's way down my throat, I swallow on the upthrust, my specialty, see, and get him to shout "Ahhh! Ahhh!" and he comes, and his cum shoots down into my gut, but I only taste a little when he pulls his prick out. Nothing in my mouth to spill out. It's not too bad. Better than the sauce with lemon juice! You can get used to it. Things could get worse. VI. So on Saturday they got worse. Brenda comes down for breakfast around noon, and I hurry to get her breakfast on the table, and then I curtsy, and stand there. "I've been talking with Tom," she says, sipping at her orange juice and looking st me steady-like. And we've got some new plans for you. It's gonna be a whole new ball game. First the good news. No more tampons. I'm through menstruating, but even if I weren't, Dave has been eating me all this week right through my period -- you saw him at it yesterday while you were blowing him -- and he wants me exclusive from now on. Says my juices are too good for you. So he gets them, not you, direct from the source, whenever he wants. Then the mixed news. No more curtsying. From now on I want you on your knees when you see me." She paused. "Didn't you hear me? I said 'From now on!'" I sank down in front of her. "That'll be handy for when Tom comes down. He said the first thing he wants for breakfast is another one of your virtuoso blow jobs. You've been wasted, Dave. You should have been a slut. So from now on, Tom and I intend to rent out your mouth to help pay Joe the Greek off. No reason we should keep paying for your past mistakes." "Brenda, uh, ma'am, can I say something?" Her eyes widened, but she nodded, so I gave it to her straight. "Look Brenda. It's obvious. Tom just wants your money. He's taking you, and he's squeezing me out. Your own husband! And you don't have enough money for the three of us." Brenda just looked amused. "You're as good a judge of character as you are of sports. First of all, what 'three of us'? How do you fit in? I just told you, you're earning your own keep from now on. Secondly, Tom doesn't want my money. He's got plenty of his own. He got it early in life the old fashioned way. He inherited it." "Now today make the house and yourself especially pretty. Tonight all your friends are coming over for your weekly poker game. You won't be playing, of course. You'll be too busy serving them, and servicing them. You need the practice with other men before you turn professional, and you're fortunate your friends are all willing to help out, and coach you if necessary. For free. I'd advise you to spend a few hours with your dildo this afternoon to get ready. And this time, when you've got it all slick with your saliva, sit down on it too. Take it up your ass. That's what'll be expected of you from now on. By tonight your hips better have moves and wriggles to roll your buddies' eyes back in their heads. Or else." "Don't worry about being embarrassed. They already know everything. In fact last weekend Bill loaned me two videocameras. You especially got him in trouble with his wife over beer spilled on a carpet, so he was eager to make it up to her by getting back at you. We set them up so they've already seen you eating your dinner each night, and then deep-sixing Tom's fish sauce. So they already know you're an ugly French maid who gives great head." Can you imagine? My own wife sells me down the river! And my own friends buy into it! Well, fuck 'em all! Except, it's me who's fucked. I spent the afternoon warming up my ass for the guys. It got pretty sore, but I don't want Brenda mad at me no more than she has been. They each come in the house, I curtsy and keep my mouth shut, and they make jokes. Tim comes in and says right off, "There she is. I'm here to poker!" Then laughs to split a gut. Monte says something about now I've gone to the head of the class. Wise asses! Bill comes in with a speech. He says, "Yeah, you! Brenda told me about the deal she's got with you, do what she says or leave. You're a whore for the use of her money, and you don't even get to see the money. Well, what I think is, you like this, and Brenda's money is just an excuse you give yourself because you want to prance around like a ponce and suck dick. So don't get uppity with me, whore. I tell you to suck it later tonight, that's what you do. A real good job. But enjoy yourself!" Brenda comes down to welcome them, and I fall to my knees as soon as she's in the room. And she says "Guys, welcome. You're here to play, but first I want to know how well Dave knows you guys. So that cum you just brought over in condoms, I want Dave to eat it, then go around and suck each of you off. Then try to match you to your condom by flavor. I didn't feed him tonight, so this'll be his dinner. Dave, you're on." That's what I did. Never got off my knees for a while, while everyone watched my techniques and was impressed. Carl says, "Never in a million years would my wife do that for me" after I deep throat him and he cums direct practically into my stomach. I didn't guess one right. I figure the condoms changed the flavor, or whatever they ate last. Then they play poker and I kneel under the table playing with their cocks, jerking them off or blowing them. Now and then I bring them drinks and sandwiches, while they watch my ass wriggle on my way to the kitchen. All the guys get blown at least one more time. The two unmarried guys each get dealt out of a few hands and come into the kitchen, then slam into my ass while I sprawl on the kitchen table face down. I try to gyrate my bare ass as best I can, but when they come out, Brenda asks if I was satisfactory, and all they'll say is "Barely!" and look back ay me and laugh at their own jokes. My old buddy - supposed to be my buddy -- Malcolm at least told her, "He tries." I hope that's good enough to satisfy her. The guys leave that night, they all thank Brenda for her hospitality. Not one of them thanks me, though I did all the work. Shit, if I was a whore they'd have paid me. They used to be my friends. VII. Sunday morning Brenda's wearing a suit, and I think she's going to church, except I see she's got a valise at the front door. I'm kneeling, because she's in the kitchen with me, and she looks down at me. "Tom and I are off for a week in the country, Dave. You're on your own. I hope you can make the payments. Next one is due tonight, 6:00pm. At least you've got a skilled trade you're good at now, so you can try. Earn it with your mouth." WelI, I mean to take off today and hide out, and this will make it easier. But I have to sound betrayed. So I say "Where are you going, Ma'am? Brenda? I did it all! You said if I did it all, you wouldn't go! You wouldn't leave with the money. Half of it's mine!" "No dear, what I said was, you do everything I told you to do, or I would leave you that minute. I never said I wouldn't leave you anyhow. You've now licked menstrual fluids and eaten dog vomit and cow shit and sucked cum out of me and sucked your friends' cocks, and my new boyfriend's cock, and you've had time to get accustomed to these things. I can tell by last night's performance that the novelty's worn off. You don't feel humiliated any more, so it's no fun for me. We're done with each other. You want me to stay here and think up other things for you to do? OK, I'll think about it. And as far as the money's concerned, all of it's mine. That's why I've got it all and you've got none." "If you can earn Joe the Greek's money fast enough to get through the week, I'll see you next Sunday night. I'll expect to see you in uniform as usual when we get back. It's laid out on your bed." "The terms of your employment will be different. I've had my revenge on you. But you've got your uses, now that you're partially trained. So let me do your thinking for you. Here are your alternatives." "First, you run off. Your clothes are packed up in cartons in the Downtown Storage Company . And your belongings. Even that stupid bowling trophy you're so proud of. Here's the key. Go, do whatever you want. Have a good life, if your friend Joe doesn't catch up with you. He will, he tells me." "Second, go into business for yourself turning tricks. You'll find out this week if you can earn enough to pay off your debt or just the interest. Chances are you'll find you're in business for Joe, turning tricks for him. Joe thinks maybe he could sell you to a pimp for what you owe him, with that deep throat swallowing trick of yours. That would at least keep your face and balls from getting crushed." "Third, you survive the week, you can stay here and live off me. But get this clear. I don't need you, I've got Tom. I can do with a maid I know will be diligent and obedient and never give me any trouble, and never quit, because she's got nowhere to go and noone else will hire her. You want to be that maid, be here Sunday night in uniform, and have the house as clean as it ever gets." "Tom is movin