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Sep 1, 2024

Courtship 21/21: Happily Ever After

Mr. and Mrs Gold do what they'll do for the next 28 years

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On the first morning of the rest of her life, Mrs. Gold woke up in chains. The leather cuffs Mr. Gold had given her on their wedding night pressed against her wrists like his own strong hands. Eyes closed, she listened to the scrape of the metal chain against the iron rails of the bed in the cabin. There was enough slack that she could bring her hands to her chest and hug herself under the blankets.

She ached more than should have been possible. Not just in the various places where Mr. Gold had fucked her, but everywhere. Bobby pins scraped against her scalp. There were blisters on her heels from all her dancing. Muscles burned in her arms and legs. Her tight wedding dress scratched and dug into her skin. Her ribs ached from her corset and her head was pounding. Was this a hangover? Or was it some other result of the best night of her life?

Either way, the pain was worth it. Some of it was a pleasure all by itself, but even the sensations she didn’t like were a fair trade for what she got in return. She was Mrs. Gold! That was worth a little exhaustion, a little feeling like she’d been run over by truck. In this new life, bites and bruises were marks of affection and honor. It followed that sore feet and aching bones were just a sign of a good time.

She rolled from her stomach to her back, twisting the chain. Where was Mr. Gold? He wasn’t in the bed. A folding screen separated where she was from the rest of the cabin. She couldn’t see him and she couldn’t exactly get up and look for him.

As if in answer, the smell of coffee wafted over to her. Then cooking oil, and a propane stove. If she concentrated, she could hear the faint sloshing of a liquid being whisked, the subdued clatter of a silverware drawer, the steadily uneven gait of Mr. Gold walking on his cane.

She sighed in relieved satisfaction.

“Mr. Go-old?” She stretched out his name until it was half a whine and half a song.

After a moment, his footsteps crossed the length of the one-room cabin. He stood at the foot of the bed, fully suited, wiping his hands with a towel.

“Are you awake already, pretty thing? I thought I would have exercised you better than that last night.”

“Oh you did, Mr. Gold!” Smiling, Mrs. Gold tossed her head back on the pillow. She wiggled out from under the blankets to show off her body. “I just can’t sleep because of how much I want more.”

He shook his head. “Wanton creature,” he tutted. “You’re a slave to your appetites as much as you are to me.”

Stepping closer to the bed, he ran the back of his hand against her leg, calf to thigh. Her stockings had stayed in place all night, held up by her garters. Mr. Gold stroked her up and down, always stopping before he reached the hem of her skirt. She tried to spread her legs wider. She hitched up her hips in invitation. He was so close to her, so close to giving them both what they wanted.

“I’ll give you a choice.” His voice was so low she almost didn’t hear it. “If you want me to touch you right now, if you want me to make you come, then you’ll have to stay in this bed until I’ve satisfied both of us--which I’m sure you know won’t be for several hours.”

A shudder went through the whole of her body.

“Or,” Mr. Gold went on, “you can let yourself out of these cuffs. It should be easy enough, even while you’re wearing them. Then I’ll allow you to eat breakfast and clean yourself up a little before I ruin you again.”

Mrs. Gold whined, then recovered herself enough to speak. “Do you promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll ruin me? Even if I don’t stay chained up?”

Looking down at her, Mr. Gold grinned. He bent down and kissed her, slow and soft.

“Your chains are in your mind, my dear. Even if I never restrained you again, you would always bind yourself to my pleasure.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, exactly. I’m always yours, Mr. Gold. No matter what.”

Still smiling fondly, Mr. Gold rubbed his hand over her curves. “So you do want to be let out?”

“I want to be with you. If you’re having breakfast in the kitchen, that’s where I want to be.”

“Mm-hmm.” He kept touching her. “And do you want to be naked, or do you want to keep wearing your pretty dress?”

Mrs. Gold bit her lip. “I, um… I’m not sure. This dress has gotten dirty, and it’s not very comfortable. But--but I don’t want to freeze either.”

He grazed his fingers over her neckline, where he had come on her last night. Most of it had landed on her skin, but a few drops had stained the beads and sequins. Mr. Gold found the white-on-white spots and outlined them with his fingertips. Then he flipped her over to see what he had left on her back. There was more here, from after he had fucked her in the ass.

“So dirty,” he chuckled. He clapped his hand against her ass--not quite a spanking, but a confident grasp of ownership. “Keep it on for now, you filthy girl. I’ll give you something to change into after you’re clean.”

He turned away, and left Mrs. Gold to unchain herself. The leather cuffs were fastened with a buckle, like a belt. There were no locks or anything to keep them on. When she was out, she left the cuffs on the chain tied to the bed. They hung from their golden o-rings like charms on a bracelet. It all took less than a minute. She could have gotten out whenever she wanted.

But she didn’t want to until Mr. Gold said it was allowed.

In the privacy behind the bedroom screen, Mrs. Gold stretched herself awake. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tried to comb her fingers through her hair. She had packed a brush when she’d prepared for this honeymoon. Where was that little bag? Where was her toothbrush? As much as Mr. Gold liked deriding her for being dirty, he would still want her to start the day looking presentable and smelling nice. She had to be some level of pristine if he was going to ruin her.

“Is there plumbing out here?”

Mr. Gold seemed too sophisticated to go anywhere that didn’t have running water, but it was possible that flushing toilets were less important to a man than they were to a woman.

“Around the back,” he answered from the kitchen. “Don’t shower yet, but be sure to wash your hands.”

The bathroom was tiny, just a shower stall, toilet, and sink. Her things were laid out around the sink like they had always been there. Her toothbrush was in a holder next to Mr. Gold’s. It all looked right. She really did belong here, with him.

Mrs. Gold got as ready as she could, then went back into the kitchen. Mr. Gold was toasting a slice of dry bread on the stove. A small table was home to one chair, one table setting, and one mug of black coffee. Obviously, that was where Mr. Gold would sit.

What was she supposed to do? He had talked about breakfast like they would both be eating. Had she misunderstood? The mistake people made with Mr. Gold was believing what they thought he meant instead of what he actually said. Her husband was a man for technicalities and trifles, for abiding by every letter of the law while completely disregarding the spirit.

She stood awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen space, waiting for him to notice her. When he finally did, his eyes glinted. He came over to her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and gave her a kiss to take her breath away.

“Good morning, Mrs. Gold,” he purred. “Get on your knees.”

Relief flooded her as she slipped from his arm down to the floor. There was nothing awkward about kneeling, about knowing that she had to kneel. This was her place, this was what he wanted. She never had to question it.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she said softly.

He made a pleased sound then went back to the stove.

“Crawl to the table,” he called without turning around. “I want you to kneel at my feet.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

There was a hole in one of her white stockings. Sometime last night, her knee had scraped against the rough wooden floor. She would have to get better at crawling, if Mr. Gold really liked it that much.

She knelt by his chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked up at her husband as he worked. He cooked the toast until it was black, then slid it onto a plate next to something white and green. He put his plate on the table, then went back to get a small bowl, which he placed on the ground in front of her. Inside the bowl were yellow eggs, wrapped around a dark green mush.

“I used to have to throw away the yolks,” he said as he sat down. He nodded at her bowl. “But now I have a less wasteful way to dispose of them. Eat up.”

As he cut into his egg white omelet, Mrs. Gold stared at him. Was she not going to get silverware? Had he meant to give her some and forgotten? Was she supposed to fetch it herself?

“Um?”

Mr. Gold looked at her quizzically, apparently confused by her confusion.

“You may pick up the food with your hands or eat from the bowl like a dog,” he explained patiently. “Be grateful I’m giving you a choice today, Mrs. Gold.”

Oh.

Her face burned, more from embarrassment than shock. What an idiot she was to need him to explain that to her. Of course he hadn’t forgotten to give her silverware. Mr. Gold wouldn’t forget anything. He didn’t give her silverware because she didn’t deserve to use it. Just like she didn’t deserve to eat at the table with him. Groveling at his feet was the most she would ever be good for.

Mr. Gold knew how worthless she was. She didn’t have to pretend to be anything more than his thing. That must have been why it was so easy to lower her gaze and put her hands on the floor. Bending forward, she kissed his shoes.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she said softly.

Then she ate her egg yolks and spinach out of the bowl. Just like the animal Mr. Gold knew she was.

****

After breakfast, Mr. Gold permitted her to stand up and take a shower. When she got back, he had laid out a line of lingerie sets on the bed. They were all different styles and colors and materials--leather and silk and velvet, black and pink and red. One even seemed to be made entirely of rhinestones.

“Never saw these at Sugar’n’Spice,” Mrs. Gold said as she looked at them.

“It’s remarkable what you can get from the right catalogs. Speaking of which…”

Mr. Gold began to take out other items from a burgundy suitcase on the ground. The more he brought out, the wider Mrs. Gold’s eyes got.

Some of these toys and tools, she knew what they were called and what they were used for. Some of them she had to guess. Very, very few had she ever seen before, though she had read about them. Lacey French’s romance thrillers teased at things like floggings and gags, and no good slave story was complete without a collar. Of course, the virginal heroines of those stories had quivered with fear at such implements, not in desire.

Lacey French had spent her nights devouring fantasies of gear like what Mr. Gold was setting out before her. In real life, she had never so much as seen a dildo before, let alone used one. Not to mention the variety in sizes and colors and shapes. They took up the whole bed! Butt plugs and paddles and all kinds of restraints. Tools of pleasure, tools of pain, Mr. Gold handled them all like an expert.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Yes, that is the idea, Mrs. Gold.”

“Wh--” she sputtered. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well you need to dress first, of course.” He set the top of his cane against a lingerie set. It was gauzy, forest green, the same color as his tie. “And make sure you wear these.” He picked up a pair of nipple clamps--gold, of course, with round weights dangling from the ends. “I’ll let you pick out which dildo you want to start with.”

“Start with?”

He gave her a warm look of amusement. “Take your time,” he said. “Make yourself pretty, make yourself ready. Then come join me in the living room.”

“Okay,” her voice shook, then she pulled herself together. “I mean, yes, Mr. Gold.”

****

Making herself pretty calmed her and excited her all at once. She went through the familiar routine of putting on makeup--dark and heavy eyes, with slut-red lips. Then she took the most expensive perfume sold at Dark Star Pharmacy and spritzed herself--on her neck, on her wrists, in her hair, and a little bit over her well-shaved mound. Mr. Gold would probably like that, and if he didn’t he would let her know. He would tell her everything he liked, everything she had to be, for the rest of her life.

She left her hair down, and put in a little mousse to make her curls more soft and manageable. Mr. Gold never seemed to like her hair, but he never seemed to dislike it that much either. At least this style would make it easier for her to deal with after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do to her.

Fuck, what was he going to do to her?

The lingerie was so flimsy it might as well have been a mist that wafted over her skin. The bra had puffy tulle sleeves and an underwire with a little peplum skirt around it--and nothing else. Apparently this was one of those shelf bras. It left her boobs completely bare. Her unprotected nipples stood out in the cold. No wonder Mr. Gold had chosen this outfit to show off some clamps.

The clamps reminded her of tweezers, with black rubber grips on the ends. Her nipples were already hard and pointed, all she had to do was open the clamps a little and then let them close around her. They started working her up as soon as she put them on. As she stood in the bathroom, her whole body seemed to lunge forward, leaning into the pull on what had now become the center of her universe.

Bracing herself against the sink, Mrs. Gold took a deep breath. Then another one. Fuck. The pressure from the clamps was the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. It was impossible to know what she was feeling, only that she was feeling.

God, she was feeling everything.

When she was able, she looked herself in the mirror. It took a little tweaking to make sure the clamps were on straight. Touching them even that much was enough to drive her to the edge. The weights swung on her breasts, and every movement rippled out into the rest of her body in an endless echo of pleasure. Fuck, if it weren’t for Mr. Gold’s rule about coming without permission…

The panties he wanted her to wear were crotchless, with a little skirt just like the bra. The skirt was only around the back, and only long enough to drape over her ass. The whole outfit was loose and flouncy, almost innocent. It was like a porn parody of something a princess would wear in a fairy tale. An enchanted ball gown with nothing to cover up how wet she was, what a shameless whore she was.

Before she went out to meet Mr. Gold, she had to pick out a dildo. Some items in the collection were too big to think about, even for her. Longer than her forearm, wider than she could get a hand around, weirdly bumpy and ridged--it was a lot to imagine going inside her body, at least not without Mr. Gold guiding her through every inch. For her first time with a sex toy, she wanted to start small.

She stayed away from the dildos that were anatomically accurate. Choosing a toy that looked like another man’s cock felt disloyal to Mr. Gold. If he told her to use any of these, of course she would obey. But he had allowed her a choice today. She wanted to make the right one.

In the end, she picked up a small length of glass that tapered to a rounded point. It was about the size of her hand, with a globe of pure blue on the holding end. Swirls of cobalt decorated the solid interior. The dildo was heavy in her hand, sturdy, but still small enough that it would be comfortable wherever Mr. Gold told her to put it.

When she came out from behind the screen, Mr. Gold was sitting in an easy chair by the iron stove. He was looking over a collection of loose papers, marking different places with a pen. He had the same look of concentration and triumph on his face that other people would give to a challenging crossword puzzle.

This time, Mrs. Gold didn’t stand around awkwardly. Mr. Gold’s desires were clear, even if he hadn’t given a specific order. She knew what she was, what was expected of her. Boldly, confidently, Mrs. Gold strutted across the living room to kneel at her husband’s feet and kiss his shoes.

Mr. Gold gave her a quiet chuckle. “You’re a fast learner, I’ll grant you that. Stand up and let me look at you.”

She was on her feet in an instant. Her breasts bounced with the sudden motion and Mrs. Gold had to stifle a gasp.

She didn’t stifle it well enough. Mr. Gold saw her face and grinned.

“Do you like my presents, Mrs. Gold?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she said promptly. “Very much.”

“Now you’re going to show me just how much.”

He looked her body up and down. His slight nod was enough to make her tear up. She dug her nails into her palms. She couldn’t start crying yet. Later. Later, he would want her to cry. Later she could get all the release she needed.

“Which dildo did you pick out?”

She held out the blue glass in two hands. Mr. Gold picked it up. “An attractive option. But such a modest size. I would have thought an insatiable slut like you would go straight for the horse cock.”

Mrs. Gold blinked. “Which one was that?”

“You’ll find out,” he smirked. “Lie down on the ground for now. On your back, feet facing me.”

She obeyed. There was a rug on this section of the cabin, a rough, braided oval between the couch and Mr. Gold’s chair. It was rustic and homey in a way that didn’t quite fit Mr. Gold. His mansion in Old Town had soft, expensive Oriental rugs. The skin on Mrs. Gold’s back started to prickle as she lay there. At least it was better than the bare floor.

“Knees up,” Mr. Gold ordered. “As far apart as you can stand. I want to have a good view of my property.”

“It’s yours,” Mrs. Gold whispered as her dripping cunt stared him in the face. So this was why he had given her crotchless panties. God, he thought of everything! “I’m yours.”

“Yes you are,” he murmured. “That’s why you’re going to obey me, aren’t you, my little wife?”

“Of course,” she whispered. “About everything.”

Leaning down, he placed the dildo on her stomach.

“For this game, you’re going to tease yourself,” he told her. “You’re going to fuck yourself. You will work yourself up, you will drive yourself mad.” Every sentence, his voice got lower. “And you will not come.”

Just hearing him say it sent a jolt through her. Clenching her fists against the rug, Mrs. Gold fought off the sensation.

“Oh shit,” she breathed. “This is gonna be hard.”

“That is the idea,” her husband grinned. “And depending on how well you perform for me, you may be rewarded, or you may be… Well, ‘punished’ isn’t really the right word considering the sorts of things you take pleasure in, my deviant. But rest assured, it won’t be something you enjoy. Do you understand?”

Biting her lip, Mrs. Gold nodded. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“You will go on for as long as I want you to,” he said. He leaned back in his chair and picked up his papers again. “So I advise you to pace yourself.”

****

She tried to start small, tried not to do anything that would make her lose the game immediately. If she came, she lost. If she came, Mr. Gold would be disappointed in her. He had threatened to punish her, but that barely mattered. Disappointing him was bad enough. Being anything less than what he wanted was unconscionable. Mrs. Gold would never be less than what her husband deserved.

But it was hard. Just getting ready--just wearing this getup and being told what was expected of her--had wound her up like a spring. It would have been easier if Mr. Gold wanted to force her to orgasm. He could have ordered her to come a hundred times in a row and she would have done it. That would have been a picnic compared to holding herself back.

She ran her hands over her thighs, scraping her skin with her fingernails. The light pain gave her something to focus on, a different type of arousal than the molten need between her legs. She tried to breathe, breathe deep, but her exhale just came out as a shudder.

“Don’t forget to use the dildo,” Mr. Gold reminded her.

He was still looking at his papers, or at least pretending to. How much was he actually ignoring her? How long would he be able to ignore her? If she put on a good enough show, surely those papers would lose their appeal.

With one hand, she picked up the dildo, then she opened her folds with the other. Her cunt was hot and sensitive--sopping wet even on the outer edges. She ran the dildo over the slick flesh, and winced. The glass was cool, cold against her heat. The feeling made her hiss and clench and she had to fight against every force inside her that wanted her to come.

Gasping, Mrs. Gold fought her own body. She denied herself pleasure because it pleased Mr. Gold. She was a worthless, lust-crazed animal, but she was his animal. He was training her to be what he wanted, because she belonged to him. If there was anything of value in a trashy slut like her, it was when she did what Mr. Gold said.

She would obey him. She would be good enough for him.

Whining and moaning, she eased the dildo into her cunt. She had to go slowly. Her pleasure was a brimming bucket and she had to carry it without spilling a single drop.

Once the thing was lodged fully inside her, it was actually a relief. The dildo gave her something to clench against when the waves of pleasure overtook her. Like the pain, it was something to focus on. When she took her hands away, part of her had to concentrate on holding onto the toy, keeping it in place. There was a strange peace in that.

She breathed.

“You don’t think you’re done, do you?” Mr. Gold’s voice cut through her stillness.

“No, Mr. Gold,” she answered. “What should I do next?”

“What do you think? Fuck yourself. Use the toy like it’s my cock, dearie.”

She jolted at his words, at his tone, at the contempt he had for her. He was right, of course. He had told her to torment herself. There wasn’t supposed to be peace in that.

“This isn’t big enough to be your cock, Mr. Gold.”

He scoffed. “No, of course not. That’s why that cock can’t make you come, no matter how hard it tries. But I promise you, Mrs. Gold, once you get the real thing in you, you’ll be able to come until you forget your name.”

She moaned. Holding the dildo by the ball on the end, she rocked her hips against it. She had to try to make herself come, but she had to fail. Just like every other man in the world would fail to please her. Only Mr. Gold could make her come. Only his cock could drive her wild. His cock and his hands and his mouth and--

“No!” She squealed as her body seized. Her pleasure spilled out and swept her away. She tried to stop it, tried to pull herself back. She yanked out the dildo, rolled onto her side--but it wouldn’t stop. It was too late. Crying and whining, she humped the floor, empty and aching but undeniably orgasming.

She came for an eternity. Mr. Gold didn’t try to stop her. What would be the point? She had already failed. She had already shown him that she valued her own whorish needs over his orders.

She wept, as she came again and again. It wasn’t fair! She had tried! She wanted to obey him. She wanted to be good enough for him. As the tears overtook the ruined pleasure, she turned away from her husband. Mr. Gold didn’t need to see her like this. She didn’t deserve to have him look at her.

Fuck. She’d fucked up everything.

When her sobs became sniffles, Mr. Gold’s voice broke through the fog. “Are you quite finished?”

She was sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees. She forced herself to look up at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gold.”

He sat back in his chair. His papers were gone. He looked down on her in cold judgment. “Tell me what you’re sorry for.”

Carefully, she got down onto her knees. At least she could do that right. “I’m sorry for coming.” Her voice trembled. “I’m sorry for disobeying your order. I’m sorry for giving in to my body’s instincts. I’m--I’m sorry for ruining the game.”

Mr. Gold cut her off with a shake of his head. “Losing a game isn’t the same as spoiling one, my dear. That’s not something you need to apologize for.”

Mrs. Gold sniffed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Now, don’t misunderstand. You did lose, you did disobey my order. I will punish you for it. And begging for forgiveness was correct. But that’s all in good fun, isn’t it?” Leaning down out of his chair, he held her chin in his hand. He looked her in the eye. “You haven’t done anything that makes me want to stop playing with you.”

She started to shake. “Are you sure, Mr. Gold?”

Grinning, he shook his head. “What a stupid girl you are. You’ll learn to take me at my word, Mrs. Gold. For now, kiss my shoes.”

She fell to the ground in her eagerness to obey. If he was letting her show him affection, then things really were okay. He forgave her. Or maybe there was nothing to forgive. Either way, he still wanted her. She belonged to him. She would always belong to him!

The lesson was firmly set in her mind by the time Mr. Gold told her she could stop. He went back to the bed and she followed him on her hands and knees.

“All these toys,” he told her, “they are your responsibility now. You’ll have to clean them, and care for them, and put them away when we’re done. I want you to make yourself familiar with them, especially the dildos and the paddles. You need to know what you’re getting into when I tell you which one I want to use on you. Do you understand, sweet whore?”

On her knees, she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Good,” he said. “Right now, I want you to put everything away, back in the suitcase. When you’re done. I want you to make yourself entirely naked, and then lock yourself back into the cuffs. You’ll wait, until I decide I want to fuck you.”

Her toes curled against the wooden floor. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“If you had managed to win our little game today, you would have been permitted to come as many times as you wanted, once my cock was inside you. As it is, it seems you need another ‘hands-on’ lesson in self-control.”

Mrs. Gold let out an involuntary whine.

Mr. Gold grinned. “Either way,” he said, “the fun has just begun.”

rumbelle-scream

can't breathe, need to reread. i will be locked up in a room until i can go through this without hallucinating really vivid rumbelle... scenes...

I LOVE IT SO MUCH. CONGRATULATIONS ON THIS KELYON!

#courtship #golden lace #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #goldenlace #FUCK YEAH #KELYON