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Slave Wife

Product Type:
Paperback
Retail Price:
$14.75
Your Price:
$14.75 $11.75 (You save $3.00)
SKU:
PF4162
ISBN:
9781935897163
# of Pages:
160
Publish Date:
7/30/2009
Weight:
1.00 LBS
Shipping:
Calculated at checkout
Quantity:
Also Available In
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Product Description

Slave Wife by Frances Gaines Bennett

From the Author of The Milk Bitch Trilogy

The strikingly handsome, sexy and profoundly dominant Michael is just thirty years old and insanely wealthy. Karen is a fresh-faced young cheerleader who catches his eye. Although he's struck by her beauty, the obsessed perfectionist in him sees much room for improvement. When he learns that Karen's father has stolen money from his company, he presents the man with a choice. Give up his daughter or go to jail. Karen is so smitten by the suave charmer that she jumps at the chance to have him. Once the two are married, Michael becomes obsessed with transforming her into the perfect female. What she eats, how she dresses, her make-up, every detail of her existence falls under his unyielding oversight. The naive Karen does everything to please her husband ... but Michael is never quite satisfied. Michael acquires a robotics company and with it the young Ward Smith. It is Michael who spurs Ward to become the fiendish BDSM engineer from the Milk Bitch Trilogy. And it is Ward who invents the devices used to transform Karen. Michael's cunning manipulation of Karen gradually eats away at her resistance. She is no longer the vivacious young cheerleader but instead the epitome of Michael's obsession.

A masterfully crafted work of erotic sadism, with graphic content that includes extreme body modification, torture, anal sex, the use of prosthesis, catheterization, dildos, whipping, fellatio, lesbian sex, humiliation, enemas and near starvation. Not for the faint-hearted.


Excerpt

Where was she? How had she gotten here? And more frightening, what did they want from her and would they really let her live?
She lay on her belly – a hot flush suffused her face – naked on soft, cool fabric. Her legs and arms were spread in a tightly stretched, intensely humiliating X exposing – silent tears rose into her eyes – everything! She gave a tiny twist to her wrist then winced. Metal chains! Though her terror was almost beyond sensibility, she was certain of them when the large, rough links bit harshly into her skin. At the realization her body seemed to collapse in on itself, all dynamism, all will, drained away leaving her utterly limp. And wet! A chill gripped her at awareness of the soaking cold clinging to her face.
Or perhaps it was her fear. She didn’t know. Tears gushed into her eyes and were sucked up by the black fabric. She didn’t know anything! Not even if she’d live.
The soft click of a latch, once, then again, jerked her to rigid attention. Fear, tangible as a vice, squeezed her heart. A large presence walked quietly toward her, footfalls shushing slightly against carpeting. She felt it circle, circle interminably all the way around her. Unsuccessfully she struggled to see through the thick black.
Its first real sound was incomprehensible. Breathing, snuffling, a strange combination of both, like a live boar she’d once seen in the market. Something touched her spine and her body jerked involuntarily, almost wrenching arms and legs from their sockets and cracking slim joints against metal.
With insane relief she recognized fingertips – warm, smooth fingertips. Gently they touched her, not stroking but lifting off and returning to some other spot, her spine, upper arm, waist, back of knee. As the fingers moved its agitation seemed to build, she could feel and also hear it. With a snort it touched her behind …
… and it was on her, it’s hot breath, thick as treacle, on her back. Then wetness soused her back and moved lower, accompanied by the hideous sniffing noise. Its tongue! With unbearable shame and revulsion she recognized what it was doing. It was licking down the crease between her legs! Everything, even the unclean parts, covering them with warm gooey – vile – saliva.
Its breathing had become so laboured it beat against her ears. Even her chest seemed to vibrate with it, punctuated by its moaning slobbering. The pitch intensified to fever. Suddenly something pressed high up on her inner thigh and there was excruciating pain. Her scream, muffled and thin, froze her into manic attention through which the pain vibrated. Would they kill her because of her noise? In dumb terror she waited.
And then, to her shocked relief, it lifted off her. The next moment, though, the unimaginable happened. A force, like a fist, pushed against a part she didn’t dare contemplate. It pushed, harder and harder. Abruptly she – and her world – tore apart.

Artist Credit

© Anja Roesnick - Fotolia.com

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