THE HOUSE-WHORE 
By 
Kathy Morris 
Copyright ( 2002, Kathy Morris 
Part 7 
Susan's revelry was short-lived as she heard the toilet flush in Uncle Dan's bathroom and realised that she did not want to bear the brunt again of her husband's anger again so, standing, she took her first, small step towards the door. With her head thrust back by the posture collar Susan could only feel the rapid tug and hear the sharp "snap" from the short chain connecting her ankles, as he took a tiny step, realising that it only allowed her to place each foot before the other in ridiculous, five inch paces. With her arms bound to her waist and back, Susan had no means of assisting her balance as she teetered across the room to the door in her six inch high stilettos, and several times as she took diminutive steps, she nearly tripped. 
Eventually Susan made it to the door and opening it, tiptoed in her heels out onto the landing. As an afterthought she turned precariously on her heels and closed Dan's bedroom door behind her then, with her right hand resting on the broad, polished wooden banister, she started to move along the landing to the head of the stairs. As she walked, the short chain between her ankles clicked and clacked as she minced along the landing with aching feet, taking tiny, tippy-toed steps, which made her feel so vulnerable and yet at the same time added to her need for being subservient and feminine. She realised with mounting excitement that she was taking some pleasure from being so defenceless and weak, caused by her restrictive corset and bindings and the extremely high heels of her shoes. 
Making the top of the stairs, Susan tentatively tried to ascend, but realised that the chain that had restricted her steps would also prevent her from walking down the stairs. She thought about her predicament and then, solving the problem, lowered herself to her knees. She twisted her hips and sat down on the rough pile of the carpet. The floor covering beneath her bottom aggravated her soreness and it felt to Susan as though a thousand red-hot needles were sticking into her flesh. Resigned to having to endure the discomfort to her skin caused by the carpet, Susan swung her legs round and placed her feet on the stairs several steps down. Still hanging on to the wooden upright poles of the banister with her right, partially free hand, she inched her bottom forwards over the rough carpet and placed it on the next step. She lifted her legs and placed her heels on the next step down. 
By the time that Susan had finally reached the bottom of the stairs her bottom was sore, not just from the punishment which Uncle Dan had given her, but from shuffling down the stairs, and she wished that her new husband would have allowed her to have worn panties. As she descended the stairs, Susan had tried very hard not to ladder her stockings and was pleased with herself that she had suffered none when she reached the bottom and, with great difficulty, adjusted her right stocking and suspenders, ensuring that, as Dan had ordered her, her seams were straight and perfectly running up the centre of her ankles, calves and thighs. 
Susan teetered unsteadily from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen and paused in the hallway to observe her appearance in the mirror. She was not unpleasantly surprised at her reflection. With her head held back by the studded, black posture collar, Susan had to bend as well as she was able in her corset, in order to fully appraise her dress, makeup and bindings. The gag in her mouth made her look like a grotesque, laughing clown, Susan thought, but, she could not deny to herself, that she was becoming used to the device and that the rubber ball had a not too unpleasant taste and smell though the thing did make her jaw ache. As she swallowed saliva caused by the ball-gag rubbing on her tongue, Susan slurped noisily. Not a very feminine sound, she thought primly, but I am Dan's wife and if he wishes to keep me this way, then it's his right. She heard a loud laugh come from the kitchen, and realised that her men were already in the kitchen waiting for their breakfasts, so hurried as fast as her tiny steps and high heels allowed. 
When Susan hobbled into the kitchen, she saw that Grandfather, Uncle Ben and Uncle Ted were already sat at the table. They turned their head as they heard her stiletto heels on the floor tiles, but, as if every day she went around dressed as she was now, they resumed their conversation after, almost casually, saying "Good morning!" to her. She tried to smile at them but couldn't with the ball-gag in her mouth, so nodded her head and tried to make her eyes smile at them as she went to the cooker to start preparing breakfast. 
With one hand completely useless to her and able to only partially use the other, Susan had a very difficult time trying to cook. The corset and wide, leather belt tight around her waist prevented her from bending very much and with the posture collar around her neck, she learned that in order to see what she was cooking, she had to bend at the knees. She also had a terrible time trying to keep her balance while she prepared the meal, as her heels kept slipping on the smooth tiles of the floor and the restricting ankle chain meant that she could not step out to regain it. Susan was forced on several occasions to drop the frying pan with a loud clatter onto the cooker and cling onto the sink or worktops. It was probably more by luck, rather than by trying, she thought, that she didn't spill or spoil any of the breakfast. 
Susan was nearly close to tears by the time she had made breakfast and laid the table, as none of her men seemed to mind in the least her obvious discomfort and awkwardness as she stumbled around noisily with plates and cutlery, and, what was worse, she thought, none had offered to help; they just carried on chatting and virtually ignored her. 
The men only mentioned Susan's name when Dan, her husband for the day, entered the kitchen. It was Ted who spoke to him first, asking him why their Susie was late with the breakfast. 
Ben and the others all wanted to know also and asked him, with Frank suggesting that the reason she'd been late arriving, was because they'd been having an early morning shag. The men laughed at his suggestion, but Dan told them in a matter-of-fact manner that the reason she was late was that she had been in some need of being reminded about her marital duties. 
Frank laughed and said, "There! I told you, he's been shagging his bride." 
Dan smiled and shook his head joining in with the general laughter that erupted at the table. "No, no, not yet." he said laughingly. "Do you think that my mattress caused those stripes on her arse?" he asked mockingly. 
Susan blushed as she heard the men discussing her and as she realised that she bore the marks from her punishment. It was with an almost reflex action at hearing their talk about her, that she felt at her sore bottom cheeks with her right hand and traced the risen wheals with her fingertips. 
Uncle Dan saw Susan feeling her bottom and said loudly, "Stop bloody playing with yourself, woman and get us some breakfast!" 
Susan almost jumped at hearing his thunderous voice and busied herself with serving the meal. 
After serving the men, one at a time because of her forced disabilities, she took her own plate and set it down at the place she had set for her own meal. 
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Dan asked, his voice full of menace. 
Susan almost dropped her plate at hearing his voice but managed to carefully put it down and looked enquiringly at him. She noticed that none of her other Uncles or Grandfather were in the least bit perturbed by Dan's demeanour or his words as he said, "I'm your lord and fucking master, today, aren't I?" he asked, and without waiting for any acknowledgment by Susan, he answered for her and continued, "Yes, that's bloody well right, I am, so," he paused as if relishing the moment, "get your slag's arse round here and see to my bloody needs!" he thundered. 
Susan walked as fast as she could round the table and stood at Dan's right shoulder. 
He said, "Stand up straight and don't move!" he ordered. Chewing on a mouthful of bacon and eggs he turned his head to make sure that she was positioned correctly. He nodded to her and resumed his breakfast. 
Susan stood obediently and listened to the small talk and clatter of cutlery around the table. Her calves and feet ached terribly as she stood behind Dan, and she thought that she must look like some strange type of guard, standing to attention, her head thrust back and chin up in a haughty posture. 
Dan reached out and tenderly caressed her leg, tracing his finger over the smooth, shiny, black nylon to get her attention. "Get me some more toast!" he ordered simply. 
Susan immediately complied with his demand and teetered unsteadily across the kitchen to place bread into the toaster. She heard him say to the others, "If she does everything that she's told as quickly as that, we're going to get on just famously," and joined in with their knowing chuckles and smiles of agreement. 
She brought her husband the fresh toast when it was ready and resumed her position at his shoulder. She felt her tummy rumble and hoped that Dan didn't hear it. She thought that Dan would most likely remove her gag after breakfast and then allow her to eat her breakfast. She smiled inwardly as she thought that he probably just liked her to appear very dutiful by positioning her at his shoulder in the somewhat bizarre posture which she was made to assume, and that really she didn't mind too much pandering to his desires. 
She felt his hand lightly brush her leg again as he said, "Butter me some toast, slag!" so she dutifully obeyed him and set to trying to butter the toast using her one hand and trying not to look foolish with her ineptness. 
Dan looked at Susan as she attempted to butter his toast and admired her uncomfortable posture and exaggerated makeup. He smiled to himself, pleased that she had accepted her role as his servile wife quickly, though, he pondered somewhat ruefully, she might have been a little more unaccepting and he would have then had to bend her will with the application of harsher punishment. The thought pleased him and he felt a stirring in his prick. 
Casually, as his slut wife continued buttering toast, he ran his fingers up and down the backs of Susie's legs; feeling the gossamer thin, smooth nylon. He traced the seams of her stockings and toyed with the creases that formed at the backs of her knees. He liked the feel of her stockings and his prick hardened more as she teetered slightly, his tickling fingers still tracing circles on her smooth, black shiny legs, and her heels clattering on the hard floor tiles as she tried to keep her balance. 
He looked at Susan's pretty eyes, watching her incredibly long eyelashes fluttering as she concentrated on her work, and said to her, "When I've got my work done for the day, slag, you and I are going for a little walk." He watched her face to see her reaction and continued. "It's such a nice day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it, eh, my little slag?" he asked. 
Susan's eyes met his and she bobbed her body in an exaggerated nod to show him that she didn't want to displease him, and then stood up straightening her legs, her present task completed. 
"Right, then," he said pleased that she accepted his plan, "make sure that you get all your housework done so we can take a little stroll and enjoy the sunshine. I'll get back about half past three." 
Susan listened as Dan told her of their plans for the day and wondered how on earth she was going to be able to go for anything other than a "little walk" as he called it, when she was clearly not able to do anything else in the shoes she wore and the damned ankle chain. 
Even though she realised that she really did want to please her husband in every way she possibly could, her cruelly arched feet were already aching terribly and her ankles and calves were trembling from her restrained posture. He'll take off the chain and let my arms free, she thought, when we go for the walk, and, she hoped, let me wear some other shoes with smaller heels. 
She pictured herself small and fragile, walking hand in hand down a country lane with Dan, his six feet six frame towering protectively over her, his smiling face beaming down at her, and birdsong drifting from the hedgerows. She realised that in her thoughts, she was still dressed only in her black corset and stockings, her bottom proudly bare, and they walked holding hands, and the thought thrilled her. She imagined herself sat on top of a five-barred gate at the side of a field, Dan holding her as she reached up to kiss him tenderly. 
Susan's eyes opened with a start and heard the loud "smack" at the same time as her brain registered the pain in her bottom. 
"What time are we going for a walk?" he almost shouted, poising his large, fleshy hand ready to smack her bottom again. "Did you bloody hear me?" 
Susan tried to speak, to tell him that she understood they were to go for a walk at three thirty. She tried to tell him but the gag muffled and distorted the words into unintelligible sounds. 
He smacked her bare bottom cheek again and watched the firm flesh redden quickly. "What the fucking hell did you say?" he asked, enjoying her discomfort and inability to speak. 
"Meeeeethtththththhthgghhhhhhaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkffffgeeeeekkkkkkkkkkiiiiii," she replied, feeling the stinging pain rising in her buttocks. 
"Good, girl," he told her, as if her garbled, choking reply was spoken clearly. "I want you ready and waiting when I get home, and don't be late," he reminded her, adding, "like you fucking was this morning, slag." 
Susan bobbed her body and shook her head and wobbled as she tried to keep her balance as her heels slipped on the tiles. 
"Right, slag," he said after looking round the table and confirmed that his father and brothers had finished their breakfasts, "we want some coffee, so get cracking!" he ordered and spanked her bottom once to get her moving. 
Susan teetered across the kitchen, feeling the radiating warmth in her bottom and started to spoon coffee into the mugs. Her hand shook and she spilled some of the brown granules. 
"Careful, lass, don't go wasting money like that!" she heard her Grandfather chide her. 
"No, slag, you'd better not!" Dan warned, smiling as he saw her frustration at spilling the coffee. "You'll clean it all up like a good wifey, won't you?" he added. 
Susan was pouring hot water from the kettle into the mugs but she managed to bob her body in an exaggerated nod to show that she'd heard them. 
"Hurry, up then girl!" she heard Grandfather say, "We've wasted enough bloody time this morning as it is." 
Susan carefully carried a mug of coffee back to the table and placed it down for Dan, then returned to bring Grandfather's mug. Dan smiled and said to his brothers with a wink, "It's good to get special treatment, isn't it?" They agreed with him as they got out cigarette packets and began lighting them. 
"Can she have one, Ben?" asked his brother. 
"'Course, she can, that is if she wants one," Dan affirmed. 
Susan was picking up the spilt coffee granules with her finger and thumb and putting them back in the jar. She was close to tears with frustration, as she only wanted to please her men and wished that she had the use of both hands so she could get the job done properly. She heard Ben speak and turned from her task. 
"Leave that a bit," he said, "you can clean it up later. Come and have a cigarette," he said holding one out for her. 
That's nice of him, she thought, and teetered over to him to accept the proffered cigarette. She took it from Ben and waited for him to offer a light. As he did so, Susan reached up and tried to place the cigarette between her lips, forgetting about the ball-gag in her mouth. Realising the futility of being offered the cigarette, she moaned with frustration and heard Dan and a couple of his brothers laugh. 
Ben was not to be outdone however, and took back Susan's cigarette. He lit it for her and stood up saying, "'Say, Jack, ever watched a bird smoke like this before?" 
Uncle Jack watched as Ben held the cigarette and pushed it into the corner of Susan's mouth, forcing the filter between the black, rubber ball and the lipstick coated flesh and trapping it under the thin strap that held the gag in place. "There!" he said pleased with himself, "At least she can have a smoke now, Dan," and sat back down admiring his own ingenuity. 
Susan could just see the cigarette through the corner of her eye and breathed in the soothing smoke. She nearly choked as saliva slithered down her throat and she coughed and spluttered. Thick, blue cigarette smoke exploded through her nostrils and she saw Dan laughing. She composed herself and tried to take the cigarette between outstretched fingers in a reflex action. She could not reach it and moaned again with frustration as she carefully inhaled the smoke slowly into her lungs and realised that she would have to exhale through her nose. 
All the men were watching her now, especially Jack and Ben, and she saw the smug look on Dan's face as he informed them, "Ah, there then, you didn't think that the bitch would be able to smoke like that, did you?" he teased. 
Jack shook his head as he saw faint whisps of cigarette smoke issue from Susan's nostrils. 
Ben said, "I must admit, our kid, I'm surprised that she seems to have got the hang of it," He had to agree with Dan that he didn't think that Susan would have been able to do it. 
As if to prove to her men that she was not going to let any of them down, least of all her husband of the day, Susan breathed in deeply again, relishing the thick smoke, and exhaled slowly once more, this time without choking on the ball-gag. She breathed again and the cigarette smoke filled her lungs. She coughed and spluttered and choked as her lungs were filled with smoke once more and she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were closed and tears ran down her cheeks as she felt the cigarette removed from the corner of her mouth. She coughed and spluttered again but was grateful that she could breathe fresh air once more. 
"Ah, Ben you're too bloody soft with her," she heard Dan's mocking voice inform him as laughter broke out around the table at seeing Susan coughing and hopping around in her high heels as she tried to keep her balance. "Pull yourself together and stop making such a bloody spectacle of yourself!" she heard him order as tears clouded her vision and she coughed convulsively again. "Stand up straight," he barked, "and come here!" she heard him shout trying to compose herself. 
Susan stood up straight and tippy-toed as fast as she could to stand at Dan's right shoulder. He smacked her bottom hard and her knees bent as she felt the pain surge though her already sore bottom. 
"Don't you ever fucking show me up like that again!" he warned. "Now get the table cleared and start doing something fucking useful!" he ordered. 
Susan wanted to say, "Yes, Love, anything to please you, Love, but please don't smack my bottom again," but she could only think it. She bobbed her body to acknowledge the order and picked up his empty plate, carrying it carefully over to the sink. 
As Susan collected the dirty plates one by one and placed them in the sink, she jealously watched her Grandfather and Uncles finish their coffee and cigarettes. 
Susan wished that she was able to have a cup of coffee and enjoy a cigarette as she felt her tummy rumble with hunger, and hoped that Dan was pleased with her as she accepted his, to her mind, unnecessary bondage. It would have been much easier and quicker, she thought, for her to get breakfast if he had allowed her to be able to use both hands. She didn't really mind the pain in her feet caused by the highest heels she'd ever worn, she pondered, getting used to the heels was all a part of being a very feminine woman, she reasoned with herself, and she was getting used to the ball-gag as she learned to relax her mouth so that her jaw didn't ache as much and, she added, feeling very exposed and vulnerable was satisfying in a strange way, she realised, but it was such a pain having to do everything with one hand! 
Oh, well, she thought as she eventually cleared the table, I'm Dan's wife and a wife has to do everything she can to please him, so, she reasoned, if he wants me trussed up like this, then I must just accept it if it keeps him happy. 

Author's Note:

I hope that you've enjoyed reading this story - it gave a great deal of pleasure to write it! If you wish to email me your comments, you can email me at kathysmokes1@hotmail.com and please feel free to visit my extensive website at http://fetish.freegayspace.com/kathysmokes1/index.htm