His Obsessive Claims, Her Twisted Submission

BE MY WIFE...FOR THIRTY DAYS

[WILSON'S HOUSE]

Sapphire knew she had to reply, but how could she? Everything Yvonne said is true. If she had even the tiniest bit of shame and dignity left, she wouldn't have dared to return to his house. After the betrayal, insults, and humiliation, she came back to the house, and was planning to use his kitchen.

The chopping of a carrot on the chopping board pulled her away from her thoughts.

"Don't worry, you're better off as Wilson's robotic mistress."

"Mistress?" Sapphire chuckled, hiding her pain. "I agree with the robotic part, but mistress? I don't think so. If my brain is fine, I'm sure Wilson and I got married yesterday. Yes, he's a scumbag, but when talking about a mistress, I think you are forgetting who the real mistress is? You."

Yvonne took a strand of hair behind her ear. "Who ran out of the hotel in lingerie? You. Honestly saying, I thought you'd have made the headlines this morning. Hashtag, Wilson DeVille's wife, was found in the street of Las Vegas in just her lingerie." She clicked her tongue. "How pitiful."

Sapphire slowly balled her fist, her eyes glistened with moisture.

Yvonne pointed the knife at Sapphire. "If I were you, I'd save my tears. You have no idea what's coming for you."

The door banged open. Wilson stormed in, and stopped before Sapphire, breathing heavily.

"Wilson." Yvonne dropped the things she was doing, and went to him. "Are you okay?"

Sapphire also wondered quietly but didn't want to ask.

Frustratingly, Wilson took off his bow and tossed it on the couch. His shirt followed next, on the floor. He was left in his inner blue shirt.

"Babe." Yvonne held his hand, smothering his palm. "Talk to me."

"The outcast is back."

"Who?"

Wilson looked at Sapphire, same as Yvonne.

"What are you doing standing here, b***h?" Yvonne cursed and took Wilson upstairs, to his room.

Sapphire's eyes followed them until they both got into the room and closed the door.

She exhaled, blinking back her tears.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had come down to eat, but found nothing but an empty kitchen. She looked at the abandoned groceries Yvonne had abandoned to follow Wilson.

Unlocking her phone, she saw the tax income withdrawal, and her eyes landed on the remaining money in her account.

$105.

"I'm low on cash. Placing an order is out of the option." She cleared the message, her stomach grumbling again.

Tracing her eyes to Wilson's room, her curiosity grew.

Outcast?

--

[WILSON'S ROOM]

Yvonne bolted the door close and faced him. "What happened? You went to your family's dinner."

"What else? Old man and that outcast are at it again!"

"Outcast? Who's that?"

She gasped in realization. "Tristan?"

"Who else could ruin my mood? He and that old man!"

"What did they do? I thought it was some sort of welcome back dinner?"

"It was...until that old man ruined everything!"

Yvonne pulled Wilson by the hand, and made him sit on the bed. "Now calm down, and tell me what happened."

"The old man wants to involve Tristan in the business," Wilson broke the news.

"What!?" Yvonne's eyes widened.

Wilson nodded. "He brought up some stupid condition that if Tristan could present a wife in three days' time, he'd involve him."

"That's absurd. There's no way he's gonna pull that off."

"You think it's going to be that hard?" Wilson snorted. "Most ladies would line up once he shows his interest. You know I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him. He isn't that same boy that always returned with torn clothes. He f*****g changed!"

"Of course he's gotta change. Sixteen years isn't six days."

"I know that!" Wilson snapped. "I have no idea what's going on in that old man's head. Suddenly, involving Tristan in the business... I f*****g hope he isn't planning to hand everything over to that bastard."

"Think with a calm head, there's no way Tristan can manage it. He's been away. You've been the one managing it. You are ready to die for the company, that's why you ruined your life by marrying that robot. Old man is playing a bigger game, and we have to find a way to stop."

"You're right." Wilson stood. "Tristan will get married."

"Then we'll have to start with the wife." Yvonne joined him in standing.

"What are we going to do?" Wilson looked at her. "We don't know if he already has someone."

"That's a problem we'll find out on Sunday." She hugged him from the back and kissed him. "Chill. Couldn't believe that's why you wanted to break down your door."

Wilson turned around, and took over from the hug, squeezing her ass in between.

"You wanna know something else I can die for?" He kissed her neck.

"Why do I feel like I know it?" She laughed.

"You do, baby." He yanked her skirt away, and her bare p***y came into view.

His eyes danced with lust as he stared at her hairy p***y. "You came prepared?"

"Exactly as you like it."

"Fuck." He slid three fingers without any haste, capturing one of her boobs with his mouth.

"Ah... fuck..." She fiddled with his belt, and soon their clothes were scattered around the room.

Without being told, she went on her knees. Gripping her hips, he spanked her ass thrice, giving her a brutal thrust.

"Fuck... Yeah...destroy that ass! Damn!!!"

--

[GUEST ROOM]

Sapphire tossed around the bed, brow etched together as she tried to force her eyes closed. Groaning, she grabbed one of the pillows, and used it to cover her ears.

The sounds continued—sound of moans and groans. She opened her eyes and flung the pillow at the door.

"Ah!" Her eyes focused on the ceiling, Yvonne's moans growing louder each passing minute.

Her stomach didn't help matters as it kept on grumbling. The sound filled the room. She tried to sleep, but couldn't. Her eyes refused to close either, and like that, she stayed awake staring at the ceiling. Her stomach kept dancing, and the imaginations of what Yvonne and Wilson were doing ran wild in her mind.

----

[MORNING, 10 AM]

Sapphire stood in front of Dr. Tristan's door, fiddling with the zip of her purse as she contemplated whether she should knock or not.

The receptionist repeated the exact same words she told her yesterday and she had to stop to wonder the type of lady she was. No one repeats the same sentence that isn't even a welcome. And now, she was baffled. With the reply, she didn't know if the doctor had arrived or not...she couldn't find the voice to ask her.

Making sure she had enough air, because she knew once she went in there, she wouldn't be able to breathe properly. She placed a soft knock on the door.

No response.

She wanted to knock again when the door squeaked open, exactly like yesterday—only difference was that she knocked first.

Opening fully, she got a clear view of his office. The curtains were open. Though the sun couldn't penetrate in, it was bright enough for her to see the office, him and his soul-gazing blue eyes. The white chandelier was turned on as well.

Immediately she stepped in, the door closed on its own as if it was built to specifically know when to open and when to close.

Her eyes darted around the office, once, before falling on the man who was ripping her apart with his eyes.

She got awestruck at how spacious the office was. Sadly, that's the only thing she was able to notice before she felt like her soul was out, just her flesh standing.

Why build a big office when, from her observation, she could tell he rarely has patients? Weird to say, but it feels like she's his only patient. If so, why have lots of books packed in his office?

"You're early today?" his voice broke through the silence, making her slowly regret why she was early.

What would he think of her? A desperate broken lady?...maybe she is desperate.

"I..." She blinked herself out of his gaze. "You said I should come today."

"And you chose this early morning?"

"I really need your help," she confessed, barely allowing him to conclude. "I'm tired of being this way. Tired of being laughed at. Tired of being called a robot. Tired of being taken for granted, and..." She hesitated, but decided to complete it since she'd started it. "Tired of being s*x-starved."

He leaned farther into his black leather chair. "Now, you're crawling out of the s**t called personal." His eyes darkened with interest. "Sit."

No hesitation, she sat.

"Continue," he demanded.

She gulped. "Can I trust you?"

"The door is locked. We're the only ones here. I wouldn't rat you out. It's against my policy. You decide?"

She nodded. "To the world, I'm married like every other lady, but my husband...forget that. But my condition doesn't allow anyone to come close to me. On the outside, I might look okay. Besides, what would a woman who can't feel get turned on for?"

"Relax, Sapphire," he said in a dangerous voice that Sapphire couldn't tell if he was comforting her or just being a great listener.

He stood, his shirt contrasting with his body. He walked to the air conditioning and increased the air. The air brushed Sapphire's skin—cool and relaxing, carrying his strong scent of cardamom.

Walking back to his chair, he sat, locking his gaze on her. "Relaxed?"

She replied with a gentle nod.

"Good." He moved the swivel chair. "What method have you tried to satisfy yourself?"

Sapphire rubbed her palm on her thigh, Yvonne and Wilson's s*x sounds reoccurring in her head. Only she knew how much staying awake until daybreak and hearing that sound turned her on. She wouldn't lie, she did try to satisfy herself, but couldn't bring herself to, not when it was her husband cheating in their matrimonial home.

"I..." She trailed and looked away from him.

"Eyes on me," he commanded.

Her body obeyed before she could have control over it.

"How do you satisfy yourself?" He asked, slowly, almost like he was picking out the words.

"I touch myself."

"And it doesn't help?"

"It does," she sighed. "But, I get reminded that something is missing."

"In other words, you've been bothered about your numbness, but never as desperate as this to get it back until something triggered it."

"I never said that."

"You don't have to state it explicitly," his tone was sharp, silencing her. "It's my duty, I'll help you."

"You can?"

"Your therapist wouldn't have recommended you to me."

"But, I've been going to her for eight years?"

"She's a therapist. I'm a psychologist. They're different."

"I can't imagine breaking through these chains." A ray of hope flashed in her eyes. "I'll do anything you ask of me as long as I get back my broken nerves."

"You'll do anything?" he asked.

"Anything at all," she answered sharply.

"Nice, you'll be useful for something." He opened the drawer, took out a black file and passed it to her.

Exchanging glances between him and the file, the ray of hope began disappearing from her eyes. "W...what is this?"

"A contract. Be my wife...for thirty days."