Nathan Silvers

Wife chained and trained


Gloria sat thoughtfully in front of the mirror, polishing her nails. She had a big decision to make. Should she accept David's invitation to spend the weekend at his country home or not? It was not quite the simple decision it looked. Oh, she liked David, of course, he was the perfect gentleman to her. But Gloria had been a widow for only a year, and it might not look good. People might talk, and she didn't want a breath of scandal in her life.

If David had been the slightest bit like her dead husband, Mark, she wouldn't have considered it for a moment. Mark had been so much older than she, so it was hardly a surprise when the heart attack left her a not exactly wealthy, but certainly well-off widow. The thing she had only confessed to her closest friend, Jane, was that it had also been a relief.

The man had been an animal. It wasn't enough for him that Gloria was the most glamorous wife at any of his office functions. That she was always polite, talking to any of the men there. That she always dressed to please men, as her mother had always said a wife should. Her tight dresses that showed off her petite figure to the best advantage were always the talk of the parties, and Gloria had once overheard a very disgusting remark made by one of Mark's associates.

"Fuck me," he'd said to Mark, after far too much to drink. "That wife of yours must be a right little nympho in bed."

Gloria leaned back in her chair as her hand hovered over her nails and she blushed in terrible shame at the memory. Mark had merely laughed, and not even told the man what he thought of him for such a suggestion.

But that was typical of Mark. He probably wanted Gloria to be disgusting and demand sex. He certainly tried to get enough of it from her. Once he'd even forced himself on her, pinned her down to the bed and stuck that horrible thing of his in her delicate body and rammed it in and out, grunting like a pig, until all that horrible white stuff had shot out of it and he collapsed and let her go to the bathroom to clean herself off.

She was furious that he should do such a thing, but the shame was worse. He had humiliated her terribly, and she had almost left him over it.

She leaned back in the chair and let her tiny slip ride up over her thighs. She couldn't understand the terrible lusts men had. All of them, as they took in her luscious figure, her swelling tits under the soft-lace of the revealing clothes she wore, her slim waist, tight, round ass and long shapely legs, wanted to get her into bed. She tossed her long blonde hair back over her shoulders, got up and put her sandals on. In her white stockings, and flimsy slip, she walked into the bathroom and surveyed herself in the full length mirror. She was a beauty, that was obvious, and any man would want to have her as his wife. That was why it was wonderful to have met David.

He never made improper suggestions. He opened doors for her, and was always the most polite of men. Perhaps it was nearly time to marry again, and perhaps David would be the man of her dreams, her knight in shining armor, the man who would put her on the pedestal she deserved.

She ran her hands over her tits and down to her waist. Then further, to the soft warmth of her inner thighs. It was nice, the feeling she got when she did that. Not that she could be as disgusting as she had heard some women were and caress themselves between their legs, where their sweet little pussies were. The very thought made her tremble, and she hurriedly dropped her slip and went to the basin and gave her face a fast wash. That calmed her down, and gave her time to think.