Sunday, December 13, 2015

Late to the party

It’s been available for a few days now, but you can still get part two of Grace Vilmont’s fine new novella My Wife, My Slave, a gentle meditation on the roles between a dominant-master-husband and his submissive-slave-wife. And really, isn’t that the normal state of affairs for my marriages nowadays? (Unless the marriage is a role-reversal of dominant-mistress-wife and her submissive-slave-husband). Anyway, enjoy it from Smashwords or Amazon.

Sheila took to the life of a slave. She enjoyed the discipline and routine I handed out and took great pleasure in the rewards. She was shocked when I started posting her pictures on the internet she wasn’t ashamed. When I gave her the task of finding me another woman to bring into our bed, she didn’t balk. What she and I didn’t anticipate was how a new person could so change our relationship…for the better.

This is an 11,000 word novella intended for adult audiences. Part two of three.

Content warning: features graphic sex, BDSM, dominant male-submissive female,  cheating spouses, forced body modification, willing slave play, strong language, erotic situations not all members of the public will enjoy, and other depictions of adult sexuality. Explicit language and adult only content.


“Yes,” she smiled. Her lips were thin but that didn’t necessarily mean anything bad about her. I was just a little too focused on them. “You must be Jack and Sheila.”

“That’s us. Nice to meet you.”

“Please sit down,” she gestured to the empty seats at the small table. The restaurant was entering a peak serving time and she had resorted to leaving her jacket and purse on the two empty chairs next to her. She watched as I seated myself and then Sheila sat down next to me. “You don’t hold the chair for your wife?”

“I don’t hold a chair for my slave,” I said mildly.

Claire nodded once in agreement. “Is that what she is today?” A smile was creeping on her face.

“Show her,” I said to Sheila who carefully glanced around. No one was watching us, no one even cared. Carefully Sheila pulled back her long sleeve and revealed the red cuff around her wrist, locked on with a padlock. After making sure that Claire saw the cuff, she let the sleeve slip back down.

“Just the one?” Claire asked.

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