02 - The House of Representatives
On Monday, I was just as anxious as I had been the night Jakob drove me to prom. Other than my stained clothes and the photo album, the only things I owned were inside a small container in a fifteen-passenger van as I watched familiar neighborhoods slip by. I was the van's only passenger apart from the guard responsible for transporting prisoners. My stomach fluttered when I spotted our street. I hoped that the transfer would take place during the daytime when most of the neighbors would be at work, sparing me from any unexpected visitors inquiring about my prison uniform and restraints.
The van stopped, and I saw Jakob step out of the front door. My heart began racing at an inconceivable pace. Since we last met, it was only the second time I saw him, and he was as breathtakingly handsome and overwhelmingly intimidating as before.
"Jakob Detrik?" the guard inquired, intently looking up at him as he approached.
"That's me." Jakob responded casually, extending his hand. The guard shook it before presenting him with a clipboard and pen for signing the prisoner transfer form. As he sealed the form, the guard clipped the ankle monitor to my ankle.
"This monitor's battery is good for forty-eight hours. I have two spare ones for you here." The guard gave them and a charger to Jakob. "You'll have sixty seconds to replace the battery. When it beeps rapidly, it indicates low power. If it turns off for more than sixty seconds, it will set off an alarm. If it leaves the prescribed area, it will also sound an alarm. And if the band is removed, it will also trigger the alarm."
Jakob nodded silently, yet his gaze remained on me. I was helpless under his steady, friendly, and calm gaze. The guard took back the signed form, shook hands with Jakob one last time, and left in the van. I suddenly found myself frozen, donned in an orange jumpsuit and standing in the yard. My fear had rendered me motionless.
"Come on inside." Jakob urged me, his voice loud enough to break my trance. "The front and backyard is within the designated area, but I'm sure you don't want your neighbors to see you like this."
I quickly moved into the house, and he held the door open for me. I would've expected Jakob to be the perfect gentleman any time but now, especially after what happened. I should have known better than to think he was doomed to be yet another prison guard to me.
In the living room of my old house, I set down the container on the coffee table, where it had been six months ago. The house was just as I'd left it. My thoughts wandered, wondering if Jakob had ever sat on the couch in all that time. He usually preferred to be outdoors, engaged in physical activities.
"They remodeled the spare guest room." Jakob murmured from behind me. "I wanted them to renovate our master bedroom, if possible, but they couldn't add a separate bathroom."
As he began undoing my handcuffs, I turned to face him. His guarded expression screamed secrets I was desperate to uncover. I stared at him for a few moments, but his expression remained unyielding.
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking.
"I assumed the agreement we signed in prison would've answered your question," he replied, puzzled and thoughtful. "It was quite clear."
Though I knew it was irrational, I held little confidence in the contract, and I doubted it as a mere formality. I plastered on a false grin and slid my hands down Jakob's jeans. "I signed it," I whispered. This was a mistake.
In a heartbeat, Jakob pushed me away and straightened up to his looming form. The "badass stance" he called it was usually an amusing sight, so often highlighting his inherent teddy bear personality. Now, though, I did not get to witness the "tender bear," rather the formidable exterior of a hardened jailer. I would receive no lenience.
"This isn't how things work anymore, Sarah." He grumbled menacingly. "I don't know how long you've been messing around behind my back; how many assignments I've been on, thinking my loyal wife was waiting for me; how many crappy places I slept in, dreaming of seeing your face when I woke up while you were soiling our sheets."
"Jake, just...please." I started but was interrupted.
"It doesn't matter. I can't believe anything you say anymore, right? Now I have to reconsider everything about our relationship, and it hits me that you have been pretty manipulative with me during our time together. In fact, I can see very clearly now all the ways you've had me wrapped around your little finger."
Tears seeped from my eyes, but I dared not argue with him. I knew he was right. I loved him, but the intense devotion he showed me was something I'd definitely taken advantage of. I'd taken his loyalty for granted, and that's likely why I'd been able to convince myself to throw it away.
"Time for me to do some manipulating myself. The difference here is that I'm making you aware of my plans, and you get to decide whether or not this is something you want."
"What do you mean?" I asked softly, defeated. "I've already signed the contract. I can't go back to prison, Jake."
Jake left the room then returned a moment later, gesturing for me to follow him into the dining room. He pulled out a chair for me and, when I was seated, handed me a packet of papers that I recognized as the contract we'd signed. I looked at him confusedly.
"Read it." He said.
"I have read it. I know what it says." I replied.
"It wasn't a question." His growl returned, and I flipped through the contract. This one was different. The addendums his lawyer had added were altered.
**********
SUBSECTION C
1) There will be no physical contact with the prisoner, except in life-threatening situations.
2) All chores and maintenance will be the sole responsibility of the Jailer.
3) Both parties reserve the right to withdraw from the agreement at any time, without cause.
4) The contract can be renegotiated at any time and, should a new agreement be reached, it will invalidate this one.
**********
This version of the contract already had his signature, and it was dated the day after he'd visited me in jail.
"I'm giving you a choice that you never gave me. And if you agree, I am going to take a lot more liberty than you did. If you decide to accept, I'm going to break you down. Just like basic training. From those pieces, I'll mold you into someone who can be trusted. This won't be an easy path for either of us."
I stared at the contract in my hand. I didn't have to do this; he gave me an out. Like I'd never given him. If I was honest with myself, I knew that I'd half-assed my part of our marriage. It was never a problem for him, though. He was happy to pick up the slack. Now, he was offering to break me so I could get better.
I briefly pondered what the path ahead would look like. There would undoubtedly be a sexual element to it; Jake had always been a generous, if insatiable, lover. Would he demand the things I'd always withheld from him? Could I give them to him? I'm not a patient person, and now it feels like he's asking me to run and never stop until he says so.
I looked up at him, and his deep, soulful eyes were completely open. He was hurt, he wanted me to agree, but he was also concerned for me. That's what finally swayed my decision for me. I believed him when he said this would be beneficial for me. He'd always talked about his training being the best thing for building life skills he's benefited so well from. Perhaps this could do the same for me.
"It will take every ounce of strength you have." He whispered, as if reading my thoughts. "You'll hate it, but you'll come out better than you've ever been."
I nodded. He took the contract from me, along with my freedom. "I trust you." I whispered back. His eyes were heavy from the task in front of him. He handed me another piece of paper, penned by his own hand. [Comment removed]
"Here are the guidelines you'll need to abide by," he told me. "Each Friday, you'll have the chance to sign the documentation that frees you from these duties. These will be your most trying moments. You'll want to give up, to give in. You'll have to deny yourself the ease of life more than a hundred times during this experience. The rewards waiting at the end will be noteworthy."
I moistened my lips and cast my eyes down at the new paper.
House Regulations
1) The detainee will react to more than just her given name, any title she's given as well.
2) The detainee will converse with respect, speaking only when addressed.
3) The detainee will refer to her jailer as "Sir".
4) The detainee will don fitting attire for her status.
5) The detainee will maintain the house in pristine condition.
6) The detainee will cook all meals.
7) The detainee will kneel when conversing with her jailer.
8) The detainee will always be ready with holes at the jailer's demand.
9) The detainee will express gratitude for punishments.
10) The detainee will not cum without consent.
I gulped, and my gaze drifted to the new sheet of paper.
Jakob leaned against the table, his eyes boring into me. I thought back to the time when I'd asked him to "whip me in shape" at the gym. I was sure I still bore the scars from that weekend.
I re-read the list of regulations once more and questioned, "What does rule four entail exactly?"
Jakob offered his palm, then helped me up. Together, we stepped a foot away from the table, and his hand gently rested on my shoulder. I took note of his gesture, and kneeled. He surveyed me, saying, "This breach of decorum will be forgiven—just this once, slut." I felt myself wince at the derogatory term. He understood.
"I apologize, Sir. I meant, could you clarify rule four, Sir?" I avoided eye contact, knowing it would render me helpless.
"Much better, slut," he replied with a grin, amused at my wince. "Being a new whore, your rank does not allow for any clothing whatsoever. Perhaps, if you improve and earn a better status, you'll be entitled to dress differently."
I could not resist staring back at him, fully expecting what was about to come. He raised an eyebrow. I lowered my eyes, stood, and gathered my hair, pressing it back, then hastily removed my blonde top, exposing my hefty breasts, not quite taking in full stock but enough to catch his gaze. I removed my glasses next, followed by my green baggy pants, my shirts, then my bra and my panties.
He raised an eyebrow, still staring at the bags on my floor before asking, "Where do dirty clothes end up?"
I scurried back to the guest room, dropping these items onto the bed, as said mess joined the pile. En route through the living room, I also reclaimed my belongings.
When I made it back to the dining room, Jakob sat there. I skidded to a stop at the table and was struck by what lay before me. The door to the guest room was open, an adjacent sliding door of vertical steel bars replaced the original. Inside, the space held a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a plush chair, all encased in stainless steel. It was larger than the room itself, and through the window-aligned slits in the back wall, guests could see outside. I hurriedly put my pile on the bed and returned to the dining room.
Jakob remained seated, waiting for his next move.
I lowered myself onto my knees in front of him. My heart was racing due to my short run and heat seemed to flow through me. My face blushed and I nervously played with my hands in my lap. I wanted him to do something, but he just sat there. I kept my gaze downcast. Eventually, he spoke.
"Good slut," he murmured. I winced again. "You've surprisingly learned patience over the last six months you've been away from me. Follow me." Jakob stood up and I did the same. He led me to the master bedroom, the place I last saw him before I left.
I glanced into his eyes and, for a moment, saw pain pass through them. It was quickly replaced with a guarded expression, then an overly lustful one. He lay back on the bed, leaning against the headboard and motioned for me to join him. I moved onto the bed and positioned myself between his legs.
I was certain about what he wanted. It was what I was going to do for him in the other room. It was what he always wanted when I was going to reward him for something. I didn't mind blowjobs, but they always left my throat sore. I'd never managed to deepthroat him, despite my efforts. Efforts that typically left my throat sore and probably bruised.
So, I positioned myself comfortably with his package, my face so close it was practically on it, and gave him my most seductive look. He stared down at me, his desire raging. I awkwardly raised my hand a little bit, as if I was back in school. It took him a bit, through the haze of his excitement, to realize I wanted to ask a question.
"Yes, slut?" he asked. I barely avoided wincing, but I knew he could tell it still bothered me.
"May I please perform oral on Master's penis?" I asked in the sexiest voice I could make. I could see my words ignite him even more and, for further effect, I pushed my face into the underside of his length, allowing it to rest on me from the base against my lips to the tip touching my forehead. His length wasn't lacking, but his girth was what set him apart. It covered one of my eyes completely, and I was barely able to wrap my hand around it.
"Yes, slut. Do a good job and I won't have to take over for you." On the first word, my lips immediately began gently kissing his sack. I barely heard the rest of it as I became lost in his scent. I loved his smell. I loved the way his hands felt on my head and the little sounds of pleasure I drew from him. I couldn't believe I'd ever considered being with someone else, now that I was back with him.
I tenderly sucked one of his balls into my mouth and caressed it with my tongue before giving the other one the same treatment. When I finished massaging and kissing his nuts, I moved up the shaft of his cock, dragging my tongue along every inch of it. At the top, I licked the precum from his slit that my initial actions had earned me. It was scrumptious, just like everything else about him.
I wrapped my lips around his cockhead and swirled my tongue around it before lowering my head towards his pelvis. Predictably, I hit a wall a few inches short when his head slammed into my throat. I gagged and pulled back, stroking the last few inches while I worked the upper half with my mouth.
"You said," Jakob started as he swatted my hand away and took hold of the back of my head with both his hands. "I was going to do it to you my way?" I looked up at him, surprised. He'd never tried to -
My throat produced a throaty "Gluhrk!" noise as he forced himself into it. My mouth was completely filled, my tongue pressed against the underside of his cock. My throat stretched painfully to accommodate him. He moaned in sheer satisfaction as I spasmed along his length.
My gag reflex had been completely obliterated with that thrust and, while I wanted to protest and clear my throat of the intruder, a little voice in my head told me this is what I deserved. This was just a small taste of what was to come. I pushed away the instincts and grasped his hips with my hands, giving me the leverage to push myself forward just a little bit further until my nose was pressed into his warm skin.
"Holy shit, Sarah!" Jakob exclaimed at my sudden enthusiasm. My heart swelled with pride at the little victory of getting him to use my name. Determined to make him use it again, I began rocking slightly back and forth a little bit at a time, letting one hand go down to massage his balls while the other went to my throat, squeezing to provide more pressure.
He made a long, loud, satisfied grunt that made my hair stand on end. I hummed happily on his dick and my hips started swaying gently back and forth, dancing happily while I gave him pleasure. He grunted again as the vibrations of my throat washed over him, and I hummed even louder in response. My vision began to blur, and I frantically blinked my eyes, trying to clear away the tears from choking Jakob's cock. My vision didn't improve, though; instead, it started to turn black around the edges. In my oxygen deprivation, I barely noticed it as a bad thing. I could weakly tap his leg, and miraculously, he felt it.
Suddenly, his big cock was ripped out of my throat and I gasped, struggling for air. I saw little white lights floating in my vision as I tried to regain my senses. Holy hell, my throat was on fire after that! I wouldn't be able to do that again for a long time. I may have even accidentally injured something...
Jakob stopped his musings about me enjoying his cock by pushing my head back down. My lips parted slowly over his head, and I looked into his eyes, trying to express my discomfort. I found no pity in them, though; he was going to do this his way, just like I wanted.
He went back into me at a gentler pace this time, pressing his cock against the opening of my throat. He held it there for a moment before ordering, "Swallow."
I dry-swallowed and, surprisingly, the pressure he was applying helped the muscles of my throat to prepare for the next invasion. It still hurt, but the brutal, punishing feeling in my throat wasn't there. I hummed louder and placed my hands on his, encouraging him to continue. He slapped my hands away and growled at me. "You don't control this, slut. Keep your hands off me."
I winced again, this time not just at the "slut" part, but also at his harshness. However, I removed my hands and just prepared myself for the throatfucking I knew was expected. Jakob, however, had understood my desire for him to force himself as deep as he could into my throat. He did so, and held me down until my vision turned black at the edges. I tapped his leg again, and he laughed.
"You always seem to need a lot of air, don't you, slut?" He scoffed. We'd played with some domination and submission before, but he had never shown this controlling side. "We'll have to train you to hold your breath longer."
As soon as I stopped coughing, he pushed back into me. I didn't need to be told to swallow this time, and he slid smoothly back into my throat. This time I was determined to impress him. When my vision started to flicker, I fought to keep it clear. I could hold out a bit longer...
I was startled by Jakob's urgent shouts. "Sarah! Open your eyes! Look at me!" I squinted my eyes open and saw relief on his face. He pulled me into a tight hug that squeezed the life out of me. "Never do that again." He said angrily into my ear.
"I'm sorry, Master." I panted, tasting his cum on my tongue. I'd done it! "I wanted to impress you."
His face softened a bit as he let me go, but his tone stayed harsh. "A passed-out slave is not a successful one." He said sternly as he stood up. He didn’t say another word to me that day, and I didn't say a word either. I cooked us dinner and cleaned up everything I could find, until he stopped me and pointed towards my bedroom. The silence was deafening.
I entered my cell, dropping the photo album on the nightstand and putting my clothes in the dresser before placing the empty bin on the floor. I tossed the clothes I'd taken off onto it. Jakob shut off the lights in the hallway and whispered softly, "Goodnight, Sarah."
Alone in the dark, locked in a cell with bars over my door and enclosed by cold steel, the gravity of my actions slammed into me. My performance today had spoken volumes. I'd missed my first goal; I'd failed to please him and earn my protection from women's prison. Sure, he came, but if all I could do was messy deepthroat and pass out before he'd finished, was I even worth keeping around? Could I live with myself if I couldn't do this for him after he rescued me from prison? [emphasis added]
The fresh contract was floating through my mind. I might remain here. I didn't need to exit out, and I didn't have to survive this, either. It could feel like... prior. When I was utilizing him. I couldn't deal with that to him again, but my rear end clenched abruptly at the thought of its imminent retribution. If my throat was this bad, how could I endure that?
Read also:
- Criminally-Tuned Rhythm Chapter 1
- Chapter 12: Beth's Affection
- Treehouse Chapter 4
- Catastrophic Envy: Femdom's Perspective (Part 2)
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