Minimum Security

by Jackie Rabbit

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2021 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; cuckold; cuffs; chair; sex; bond; straps; cons; reluct; X

…It had been a stupid and poorly thought out crime; my husband was an accountant for a company with ties to some nefarious people you just didn't steal from. Sam knew this going into this job, our lawyer's attempt to explain away the crime as a form of temporary insanity was likely the most rational explanation, but both the jury and the prosecutor were having none of it, as it seems that nobody, deep down, likes a thief.

The forensic accountant, called in by the company on an anonymous tip, had found the discrepancies easily enough, money removed from a specific account electronically appearing in our own joint checking account a few milliseconds later, although the actual amounts stolen were never logged on our end. There were several instances of this occurring, and the amounts so large that they added - evenly to the penny - another whole zero to our own balance each time. Through it all my husband Sam professed his innocence, but the evidence was so conclusive that even I had trouble believing him, thinking instead that he had experienced some kind of work related mental breakdown, perhaps with some temporary amnesia thrown in there too.

The jury found him guilty as charged on all counts, to include receiving stolen property, meaning our collective assets were also at risk. The house, cars, any cash we had legitimately saved, all of it forfeit, I to suffer along with he for his stupid crime even though I had no knowledge of his actions. That also meant I had to borrow the money for our lawyers as our assets had been frozen even before his guilt had been firmly established, seeming most unfair to me. The other side of that argument being that it would be just as unfair for the victim of a financial crime to have his or her stolen assets used to defend the alleged criminal in court.

Sentencing was next, and here it was thought that I could at least do something to help my foolish husband and put this horrible event behind us just a bit more quickly. Big Jimmy was the company's president, and we had been on friendly enough terms at several company functions over the years, but for obvious reasons we had not talked since Sam's embarrassing arrest… I will say that night's full search warrant search of our own home - as both Sam and I sat handcuffed on our own living room floor and helplessly watched - was beyond embarrassing, and not just for Sam. We had personal things and various outfits that had been left in boxes with the detectives as documented evidence, all as they looked at us with attempted professional expressions on their faces. The last time I had worn cuffs in that very same home - before that horrible night - had certainly been much more fun, for the both of us.

In any event, Big Jimmy had an eye for the ladies, always chatting up the younger wives like myself when he could, I being one of them that didn't necessarily mind the attention. I instinctively knew it was good for my husband's career early on, the attention from such a powerful man was also flattering in a personal way, if I were to be totally honest.

My husband was not a big burly man - most accountants aren't - and for such a slightly built man there was a world of difference between three years at a minimum security facility, and twelve at a much more secure facility with hardened and real criminals, or so I had been told. What would I do to help him get the former and not the latter? Almost anything; Big Jimmy at least willing to see me at his home once the trial part of this horrible ordeal was over, and guilt beyond a reasonable doubt established.

"Thank you for seeing me sir" I greeted the man at his door, I dressed nicely enough in a stylish dress and heels, but not the least bit provocatively. I just plain wasn't offering that, intending instead to ask for some merciful intervention in my husband's sentencing, reminding him that there were others that would suffer along with Sam, innocents like myself. If the victim of the crime were to go to the judge and ask for some leniency it could go a long way, or so our lawyer had suggested. I might have even done so on my own without his suggestion, but this ordeal had my mind in such a state that it simply didn't occur to me to do so in the time allotted.

"Please Kim, it's still Jimmy to you, why don't you come in and say what you have to say?"

"Thank you Jimmy" I responded as I followed him, not into his grand living room, but his large home office. The message was subtle, he knew this was business, but then again Jimmy was no one's fool. He had even opened his own door for me, even though I knew him to have people in his employ to do that for him. I also knew that there was no present Mrs. Big Jimmy, but there again I wasn't offering to become one of those either.

"Would you like something to drink Kim?" my far too gracious victimized host asked. "I can imagine this hasn't been easy on you."

"Not on either of us to be sure, but it isn't even noon yet," I realized after the words had left my lips that "us" could either be he and I, or Sam and I, of course I intended the latter.

"I'm sure it's noon somewhere. How about I have one with you?" Jimmy asked, then poured us two glasses, one for each from his well stocked cabinet behind his massive desk. It was a very old and good bourbon, very smooth. He had poured me some of it himself at the last Christmas party while chatting me up; he even put some ice in each glass first this time, just like the last. I was reminded of this man's masculine interest, even playfully so, as he had taken the curious extra step to remember the specific bourbon that I had commented on the last time we had drank together, after I had expressed an interest in the strong drink.

…I knew at that moment that his interest could be useful to me, and therefore to Sam as well, but I just didn't go to his fine home with the intent of offering myself for anything, most certainly anything like that…

"Cheers" he offered as we touched our glasses together and each took a sip of the expensive beverage. It was at least a civilized way to start things off, but to one watching silently it could almost look like we two were celebrating Sam's conviction…

"Jimmy, to be fair and upfront, I have come to ask a personal favor of you."

"Anything within my power for a lovely lady like yourself. It pains me to see you in this situation, you know, and to be just as upfront and honest with you in return, I hold no animosity toward you personally for Sam's betrayal."

"I appreciate that, Jimmy, and about the forfeit of our personal assets, I don't even care all that much about that as I still have a job and can find an apartment to live in easily enough… It's only money. I didn't come to ask anything specifically for myself at all, but if you could ask the judge for some leniency in Sam's case it could go a long way, or so I'm told. I already have some huge legal bills to deal with, and I would like to put this unfortunate incident behind us as soon as possible."

"I imagine you would," Jimmy opined, as if lost in thought… "A generation or two ago, we, as an organization, would never have dreamed of calling the cops for something like this, instead… well instead Sam and some of our associates would have taken a late night ride deep into the desert, he’d be handed a shovel and told to dig. When the hole was deep enough he would find himself in that hole of his, either still breathing, or not, the hole then filled in and our associates returning without him; problem solved and justice served. This used to be a very rough business, but times have changed, we now use lawyers and more legal methods… for most things anyway these days, although muscle is still always an option, it just happens to be the last option."

"Some things never change though, family members like yourself are strictly off limits, just as they were back then, but examples still must be made less someone thinks we've grown soft, as an organization, that we've become an easy target. Were I to do anything else besides seek my full proverbial 'legal' pound of flesh, well some might then think to duplicate Sam's crimes, not good for my organization, and not even good for society on the whole."

…I listened respectfully to Jimmy's speech and brief history lesson, coming to the conclusion that he was deep down pissed off at the actual betrayal part of Sam's crime, not necessarily even the missing money part, although money was an important part of Jimmy's life. I found this to be a curious moral position for a man that engaged in running a massive gambling and "entertainment" operation, one specifically designed to play on one's weaknesses and remove the hard earned cash from the pockets of the mostly working class men - and sometimes ladies - that were his primary customers. But, pointing such out might not go all that far in getting Jimmy to help me, so I kept those observations to myself, although hypocritically I had no problem at all with my husband actually working for such an organization, pre-theft…

"I see your point obviously, but still there must be something you can do?" I asked in desperation, suppressing my thoughts, and the inward shudder I felt at how things would have most likely been handled back in the "old days" for one like my Sam. He would just have turned into another missing person in a place that had plenty of them, it either suspected that he ran afoul of somebody powerful, or simply ran off with some young showgirl. In the former case any life insurance would eventually be paid off, perhaps a decade later, or perhaps never, depending on the charity of those involved.

I had read several books about the "good" old days, and I therefore knew what these guys were, deep down, just as Sam did; You can, after all, ‘take the cat out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the cat.’ It was part of their charming mystique though, and maybe even their DNA. A certain part of me even liked a little bit of a scoundrel now and again, but I think all ladies do. In this context Sam was therefore already lucky enough not to be dead and buried in his own sandy hand dug grave, and for the life of me I still couldn't fathom why he would want to steal from men like these, or anybody else for that matter. It just made no sense. We were living fairly well without it, he and I, and we just didn't need to steal anything from anybody to accomplish this.

"Why don't you just dump him and move on with your life? You're young and pretty, and while I personally admire your dedication to your lost-cause husband, I think you could do just a little better for yourself than being married to an ex-con in three to twelve years who's unemployable in his chosen field. Dump him and move on and I will discreetly pay your legal bills, and even sort something out as to the legitimate portion of your assets that's fair to the both of us, that's the best deal I can offer."

"That's impossibly generous, but I just can't do that," I told Jimmy, reminding myself already of his first act of charity in not making me a thirty-ish year old widow, in the more traditional spirit of the "good" old days.

"As you wish. In that case then I want six years in total, at the very least, that's exactly half of what Sam could and easily should get for stealing from me. And, if you still wish to get involved in this thing personally - against my better counsel I might add - one big commitment from you in return as well for my rather magnanimous intervention. This way everybody in the know will see the folly of stealing from us, and your Sam will still learn his lesson and pay his own debt to society at the same time… in more than one way" Jimmy added ominously.

…Big Jimmy went on to explain what he had in mind, not the minute details specifically, but the vague conceptual guidelines of me quitting my own good job, and then becoming a full time 24/7 employee of his organization, with no doubt some special and undefined duties attached. It was a highly provocative "offer" that I had no intention of making myself when I came to him in my desperation, but I felt my face flush with the lewd possibilities anyway, I in effect giving myself to him and his company to help pay off this criminal debt of ours. But, I would at least have a place to live, and room and board during my "employment," one hundred percent of my generous salary theoretically going to settle our collective debts. Jimmy would, as part of the bargain, secure and manage our home and other legitimate assets, so we had an actual asset of our own when we were finally done with all this insanity, after he felt he had been properly compensated for my husband's treachery…

"Understand this though" Jimmy cautioned. "If you agree to this 'intervention' you will be considered what was at one time called an 'indentured servant', in other words nothing more than owned property, such commitments aren't strictly legal anymore, but then again neither is stealing. You will no longer enjoy your 'no touch' status either, but judging from your blushed complexion, I gather you already realized this, or was that actually the bourbon?"

"…This man was just so damn observant, could I not have any secrets at all in this embarrassment?" I thought to myself…

Feeling the flushed heat in my embarrassed face I eventually rose to shake Jimmy's massive hand and then get myself out of there, before I changed my mind, the best case scenario now being that Sam got the minimum three years, while I served out my own three years concurrently as Jimmy's owned-property indentured servant, giving him the six years in total that he demanded. I knew the other less family friendly business ventures Jimmy was involved in too, so this wasn't exactly a naive decision for myself, just a desperate one. At the end of all this though we could sell off the house and move someplace far away where nobody knew us, all to start over… in three hopefully short years. That was my proverbial carrot and stick. If all went as I envisioned, Sam would be none the wiser about what I had subjected myself to for his benefit too, or so I had foolishly hoped.


"Yes, sir," I answered, long before I got to the still open door and my escape, instinctively thinking he would like such a respectful form of address from his newest subordinate. I had of course excused myself from Jimmy's presence without asking first, but in all fairness I thought the deal was done with our handshake.

"How specifically do I know you'll keep your end of the deal once I speak to the judge? Not that I doubt your character, but I must admit that I half expected you to get up and run with the open ended nature of my rather intrusive offer; and it was of course your husband that betrayed me."

"I suppose you could always have some of your men pick me up and take me for that ride into the desert some night, just to make sure I got the message." It was one hell of an offer, one hell of a thing to actually say out loud, but it played along with a one time fantasy of mine, although some things are obviously best left a fantasy. This at the same time let Jimmy know that I really knew what I was getting my somewhat innocent self into with him, they don't call this place "Sin City" for nothing.

"That would be a complete waste of a fine looking woman like yourself, and I just hate to waste nice things. No, I had something a little more personal in mind, with a personal kind of message of it's own. A kind of welcome aboard downpayment sort of thing, although I'm sure that my guys would just love to take that little ride with you into the desert at some point in the future, although not necessarily to dig a hole."

…Jimmy then refilled my glass without my consent as he smiled and beckoned me back over toward his desk, and away from the open door and my escape. I had of course consented to be there and freely enter into this kinky agreement, selling myself into a kind of anything-goes slavery to buy my stupid husband an easier time behind bars. There was of course an irony to my agreeing to do anything under the sun, even sexully, so that my slightly built thief of a husband wouldn't have to himself, all while serving his own much longer time behind bars with the rougher and potentially more dangerous men of a more secure prison. "If they only knew of some of the games we had played together, Sam and I, and of the outfits that we owned to make such games seem more authentic" I thought to myself…

Bearing all this in mind, any further consent seemed a moot point at best anyway, and this WAS after all a time sensitive thing, as the sentencing was to be the very next day. No, Jimmy was a tangible kind of business man, as in "show me the money." He would therefore expect something tangible from me to show that I was serious in this offer of mine, something I couldn't take back later and claim it never happened, after he had done the deed with the judge on Sam's behalf. I had already offered myself up for a future nighttime adventure ride into the desert with his suit wearing gorillas, but Big Jimmy apparently wanted something just a little more "hands on" for himself first.

…My head was already buzzing as my stomach was nearly empty, but despite this I took another sip of my freshly poured bourbon. Jimmy obviously wanted to consummate this illicit agreement in some way before he spoke to the judge. But, in all fairness, I had made an offer with against-my-will sexual undertones only seconds before, although with the lubricating aid of the before-lunch alcohol. Under the circumstances it also made perfect sense for Jimmy to want to screw with something of Sam's in a very personal way, since he had foolishly screwed with Jimmy's loyalty, which personally was very important to a man like him. It was a simple form of street justice; "you take something of value from me, and I up the ante and take something twice as good from you in return, all while you're powerless to stop it." That was the crux of it, the "powerless to stop it" part, but I didn't fully realize this yet. Apparently, under all that faux civility, Jimmy was hiding a rather sadistic side to his character, at least for those that had betrayed him.

Buzzed or not I did come to realize that I was the "something," the coin to settle a small part of the debt between two men, one strong and in control, the other trapped and weak, and in a jail cell every day since his arrest several months earlier, and I looking for mercy for him at almost any cost. The strong man could always decide that this particular coin wasn't shiny and new enough, and therefore not worth the debt, once actually in his hands, if of course I somehow underperformed. In other words, he could still have me intimately here and now, in some fashion - as I now suspected he wished - and later on not keep HIS end of the deal. What I foolishly didn't fully realize, at the time, was that screwing with something my husband cherished was only of value if others knew about it, to obviously include my husband, all as he sat helplessly behind bars and contemplated his foolish deeds, and their steep consequences for now the both of us.

"I'm sure you have all sorts of ideas," I told Jimmy in a knowing way, while trying to walk back my earlier sexually charged offer. "And, after the sentencing, you're going to have all the time in the world to figure out what to do with your newest indentured servant." I was now trying to put Jimmy off, at least until he had done the deed and spoken to the judge. I was in a poor position to negotiate though, and we both knew it.

In my defense though, I hadn't been getting any lately with my husband under arrest and being held - without a ten percent option on his high bail as a flight risk - nor did I even feel the need up until that first before noon on an empty stomach drink with Jimmy, my natural barriers lowered with the offered possibility that we could somehow put this behind us three short years into the future, the concept like a huge weight lifted from my heavy shoulders. I also found myself feeling strangely aroused to be under Jimmy's control like this; I had a deep down thing for powerful men, and when my husband and I played our adult bedroom games, it's one scenario that we used, but by far not the only one.

"Come here Kim," Jimmy further beckoned, but in a friendly way, and now on his side of his large desk. We're no longer adversaries sitting across from each other, but now on the same proverbial team. His order wasn't menacing at all, although with his size and power it easily could have been. I definitely was going to be doing as he wished though, setting the precedent going forward, unless I wished to leave right now and let my stupid husband bear the burdon of his crimes solo.

In the end I had no real choice though, and I half expected Jimmy to want me to kneel before him and fellate him, although I generally find the act degrading and not to my liking. I have to really be in the mood to even do this for my own husband, the act reserved for very special occasions, or when I'm feeling especially horned up and he's playing the part of a rough and demanding brute, basically forcing me. I don't know that I have any special skills at such things either, but the sheer fact that I don't get anything out of it could contribute to this less than enthusiastic attitude of mine. It's giving, without getting in return, in the most basic form, and I far prefer to get, as I'm sure most women do. To use an old west metaphor, to me it's like shooting your gun empty right before the gunfight, at least if your husband is a single shot kind of guy like mine is.

…I eventually find myself standing intimately close before Jimmy, he still seated in his expensive minimalist office chair and looking me up and down anew, like a well earned trophee, and I resigned to do as I must to gain some mercy for my foolish husband. It's my own little lie to myself though, because deep down, deep deep down, I want Jimmy to take me and make me do all sorts of things, all without asking first.

Jimmy doesn't know this part yet either, but when he had chatted me up the last time he had poured me a drink, Sam and I went home afterwards, after that party, and I nearly raped Sam's bones just inside the door I was turned on and excited, Jimmy's one-on-one attention really hitting home with me for some reason. Maybe it was his raw power, or maybe it was the way that Sam was held back from interceding, the aura of Jimmy's influence and power preventing Sam from doing what most married men would have by instinct. One didn't DARE interrupt Big Jimmy while he was chatting up one of the wives, even if it was your own!

Well anyway, Jimmy opens his top desk drawer and shows me something, I recognize it instantly, my husband and I have the identical device back home, or at least we used to before the police came in and confiscated nearly everything except for some clothes, and the food in our refrigerator. For all I know this thing - this device - could be our own, the irony in that case hard to put to words. I become aware that there must be some sort of public record of the contents of our home, to include little embarrassing things like this, the thought never really occurring to me earlier. I have no previous experience with the criminal justice system though, so this is as well a surprise to me.

It's a pair of handcuffs, but no ordinary handcuffs like the cops had used on both Sam and I on that horrible night. No, these are special, and they look almost like a spider when open - or maybe half a spider as there are only four legs - and they're designed to hold your wrists crossed, one over the other, with the aid of a small padlock. They're quite secure, and comfortable. They also roll my shoulders when I wear them behind my back, even more than our traditional chain type handcuffs do, thrusting my naked breasts out lewdly when I had worn them the last time for my sexually creative husband. We had fun that time too, as he took advantage of my helplessness, those and a thousand other wild things now distant fond memories though. They have a great shape to them, and being bound in them - or almost anything else - does something wonderful for me. I can even lay on my back with them trapped under me and not get pinched, as our more traditional chain type cuffs often do, especially if not locked so that they tighten themselves accidentally. Ask me how I know?

The presence of those particular cuffs tells me several things though, not only does Jimmy have an in at the police department, and that he knows everything that we own, EVERYTHING, even the extremely kinky things. But, he also expected my visit, and my acceptance of his humbling offer of servitude to both him, and his organization.

Did our own lawyer tip him off, or is Jimmy that perceptive? I wonder to myself. The time for second thoughts is long past though, and realizing this I simply turn around and cross my wrists for Jimmy cooperatively, my juices now flowing freely. "If I have to gift myself to another man to protect my stupid husband, it might as well be this one" I think to myself, realizing that if I just let go and got into this a little bit more, I might even have some fun with all this insanity, and therefore make my own three year sentance go that much more quickly.

…When my husband and I played at such things he would sometimes pretend to be the brute, playing a part though, as he was one of the nicest and kindest men I had ever met. Jimmy wouldn't have to "play" at being the brute though, and my body's automatic lusty reaction to the cuffs in his hand suggested "it" already understood this little fact. I was still fully dressed though, and fellating Jimmy without the free use of my hands was likely to be disappointing, at best, for him, and potentially messy for me too…

Jimmy accepts the silent offer of my submissively crossed wrists with only the slightest of hesitations, and then places the unique cuffs on my wrists as if he's practiced this, Sam's own first time doing this to me with these cuffs awkward at best. I both feel and hear the liny lock latching shut, telling me I'm now Jimmy's prisoner, at least until such time as he sees fit to release me. These cuffs are designed in such a way that even if the tiny key were in my own hand, I would still find it impossible to unlock them myself, if cuffed behind my back with the lock facing away from my palms, as I presently am.

I'm also still fully dressed though, and had Jimmy wanted a more thorough "welcome aboard" experience with me - despite my desires to hold something back from him until he did the deed on Sam's behalf - he simply would have stripped me naked first. Or, perhaps he would have instead had me strip for him, judging my amateurish performance against those of the professionals in one of his clubs. I couldn't possibly compare well with those girls, but I held no misconceptions about such either, I simply had different skills.

…Stripping was designed to entice and wind a man up sexually, and sometimes women as well, loosening the cash from their pockets and purses. The next step being a lap dance, and the next after that some private and expensive time in a back room, one-on-one. I lived in this town, I knew how the business worked. Sex was for sale here, and not just "normal" sex either. Premium things had a premium price tag associated with them, and a rather exclusive clientele that could therefore partake, and then of course write the proverbial check afterwards. Many people had wants, but few could actually afford to indulge those wants, this another of Jimmy's many business ventures.

My emotions were all over the place, a part of me - the sexually needy part of me - needed this, but this was at the same time cheating on my imprisoned husband. But, if he were to get the full sentence and go away for twelve long years, without Jimmy's gracious intervention, did I really expect that I could remain celebate and faithful for that long… or even THIS long? It's unreasonable to expect such, most especially in my prime. I simply love sex, it's one of the many reasons my husband married me, but obviously not the only one. Hell, our lawyer was starting to look good to me, and I'm not entirely sure that he's even straight either. I'm open to new things too, and I'm also mindful of the ticking clock. One day I'll be too old for all this fun, and I selfishly don't want to do without all because my loving and sweet husband is a thief. I also have dreams of a family, and twelve long years from now that might not be possible any longer, without a high risk first pregnancy.

Jimmy looks into my eyes, and I his. He's reading me, like he's looking directly into my brain and seeing my conflicted thoughts through my eyes. This man is devilishly perceptive, but I'm here now, and I couldn't possibly abandon my husband at his most needy and vulnerable point either. Jimmy knows this, somehow, and he's using this intimate knowledge to bend me to his will, so that he can send a sadistic message of his own. I'm a piece of meat to this man right now, but a useful and desirable piece nonetheless.

"The first rule of the organization is don't lie to me ever, even about the most trivial thing," Jimmy tells me. "You just never know when I'll already know the answer to the question I ask, and the punishment for lying is severe."

"Sounds reasonable, sir," I tell him respectfully, all while trying to hide the boiling lust inside my cuffed and needy body. Somehow being a piece of meat that also can be punished is doing something for me, although I know this sounds illogical for an educated woman.

"'Jimmy' is fine, my dad is 'sir' though, please remember that when you bump into him. He's of the age that he deserves such deference; he's the original badass of this place too. Do I have to tell you what he would have done with your Sam, back in the day?" Jimmy then asks rhetorically.

Jimmy then grabs me by my hips, not roughly, but again I'm going where he wills, despite my wishes one way or the other. I think for perhaps half a second that he's going to bend me over his desk and have at it, discovering in short order that I'm charged up and more than ready. Such will likely just confirm what he has seen for himself in my needy eyes, those same eyes - in such a submissive position - that fortunately won't have to look back into his own as I commit my first ever act of adultery. My conscience is conflicted though, because I tell myself that I'm not doing this to my husband, but instead for him, buying a reduced and easier sentence with my somewhat willing body.

My relief is short-lived though, because Jimmy instead lifts me like a doll, effortlessly placing me on his lap and facing him, his eyes looking deeply into my own shocked ones. My dress is hiked by the move to my hips and my legs go out wide, occupying the space that a more traditional office chair's arms would be. I can smell the bourbon on Jimmy's breath, and likely he can smell it on mine as we're maybe a foot apart now, his big hands now holding me in place, one in front on my belly, and the other on my cuffed wrists and ass. I feel like a human puppet on his lap, the antithesis of the empowered woman that I think I am, and it's driving me even more wild with need. I can even smell my own arousal, and I'm certain that Jimmy can too.

Jimmy is erect and ready himself, and except for his slacks, and my moist panties, we're in almost perfect alignment to do the deed just like this. I feel him almost knocking on the proverbial door, and I know that he must feel my moist heat down there himself. He reaches up to kiss me, and I don't pull away, it's just an experimental peck on the lips, but I still taste the bourbon. Jimmy is a roughly handsome, strong, and desirable man, and wealthy too, he could have almost any woman he wants, for ANYTHING he wants, especially in this town.

And, while I consider myself attractive enough, I also know that there are thousands of younger girls in this particular town - that never seems to sleep - that are absolutely stunning, even before being made and dressed up. This place attracts them like insects to a bug zapper, and many times burns them up and spits them out just like one too, long before they ever reach the ripe old age of twenty five. I'm several years past that age myself, but not exactly old either, even in this town.

The ‘why me?’ question is an easy one though, I'm Sam's wife, the same Sam that betrayed him, and his organization. To be perfectly crude, Sam fucked him, apparently many times over, so now he's going to fuck me, but if it was that simple, why the kiss? Why not just bend me over his desk and rut into me like an animal, maybe even have some of his "associates" take a turn next, or even the household staff? I am cuffed and helpless after all. This way they might even leave some bruises on my hips, and elsewhere, so that I can feel them the very next day in court at the sentencing, and be intimately reminded of the price I had just personally paid for my foolish husband's easy time behind bars, all while sitting next to Sam for the last time in perhaps the next several years?

"You're a handsome woman," Jimmy tells me softly. "And there's obviously something going on between your ears too, but I already knew that part. It also took courage to come here today, and a man in my position respects that, but still certain things simply MUST happen, for the good of the organization." I then realize that I'm not necessarily a piece of meat to this man, but a necessary piece to a puzzle.

"Would you prefer it if I screamed and struggled a bit?" I softly asked with a smile of my own. "I could maybe be a convincing actress… if I needed to be. You know that, right?"

Jimmy looks up at me for a few seconds after that, and then reaches down and pulls my right high heel from my foot, examining it closely. I then kicked my left off and sent across the office without being asked, thinking this bare footed me was his preference. I have relatively small feet, and guys seem to like that, but I'm also small all over, barely five foot four in my modest heels.

…I'm also here at Jimmy's pleasure, and for his pleasure, the thought profound to me, just as the "meat" thought was a few seconds earlier, although that one now seems in error. With Jimmy there always seems to be some mystery involved with everything, and a part of me finds this "left hanging" way of dealing with things maddening, but another part of me finds it enticing too…

"Not this time," he finally answers, "but maybe the next time though." Jimmy with this little clue telling me this wasn't to be a one-off welcome aboard thing, but more likely a much more regular thing. I still can't believe that this… this thing with Jimmy is actually going to happen, it just feels so surreal, but I'm cuffed and helplessly sitting on this man's lap, his erect thing poking in the direction of my own thing, just as nature intended. I'm half drunk and it's only mid-morning, and my husband is in jail, and has been for the last few months, so I've obviously been going without. I'm not presently on any form of birth control either, there just hasn't been the need, nor even the desire for the need as early as this morning. And now suddenly - in this particular situation - there is, and there's just no putting the brakes on this thing now; what's going to happen just will, Jimmy said so himself, it simply MUST happen.

I'm trapped spread legged on his lap with my conservative dress hiked, and wrists cuffed behind my back; anything that is to happen next I am in a poor position to stop, nor even cooperate with. I don't know how much actual planning went into this next part, but Jimmy has to wiggle himself out of his slacks and shorts, all while I'm sitting on his legs. If, that is, he wants to go any further, not to mention what I'm still wearing and is also in the way. I don't know exactly what this means, except that things apparently haven't gone exactly according to his plans, but perhaps my silent offer of my wrists has taken him off his stride, upped the ante as it were. Or, perhaps he expected me to up and run when he had made his offer to me, then freeing his conscience to ask the judge for the full sentence?

I feel a little like I'm riding a bucking mechanical bronco at a western themed bar for a few moments there, but Jimmy eventually gets little Jimmy out and ready to play, although the bunched up bulk of my dress is hiding him from my actual sight. I haven't had actual "chair sex" in years, and never a single time while wearing cuffs, so this is new for several reasons; this is, after all, not my husband, but the man who holds his proverbial fate in his hands, or is that hand?

Big Jimmy has that one hand on little Jimmy under the hem of my dress, and with a practiced skill he easily pushes my wispy damp panties to the side and slides little Jimmy's fat head up and down the slick length of me, while his other hand - that's still on my ass and cuffs - pulls me in closer. I'm nothing but a tool, both for his carnal entertainment, and retribution, the concept of the former at least rocketing me on toward a long overdue orgasm of epic proportions, maybe even before little Jimmy gains actual entry. The eroticism of the moment is off the charts for me, I haven't felt like this since I went back to a dorm room with two upperclassmen during a party once, back in college, and that was simply awesome. Those two young men rocked my world that night, and I think I did theirs as well.

Little Jimmy feels cold to me though - down there in my most sensitive areas - but I know what that is, as I'm boiling hot, and he only feels cold in comparison. This might even look like a rape in progress if viewed silently, as if through a distant window, but nobody watching closely, and listening, could possibly come to that conclusion, even with the cuffs and light manhandling I've endured so far.

To make this even more clear I breathlessly tell Jimmy "down" and "lower" several times, until he's got little Jimmy blindly in the correct spot. He's done well to get this far by feel alone, but then again I suspect he's had some practice, perhaps even with other wives of husbands who had run up a debt of some kind, I suddenly realize. Perhaps this is even the standard way such debts are settled these days, when men can't pay their proverbial tab here in Sin City, and their wives don't want to see their husband's legs broken. Or even ladies too, in this age of we women being able to do anything a man can do; like gamble less than responsibly, or run afoul of powerful men.

Such might surely be fun for little Jimmy, or even Big Jimmy in a sadistic sort of way, if the husband was actually forced to be present and watching while the deed was done, and the debt settled. Such wouldn't necessarily be good for the company all on it's own though, lost revenue needing to be replaced with a flesh and blood commitment of some kind, like the just used wife then being put to work in one of Jimmy's clubs until the debt had been truly settled, if she looked good enough to actually sell, or is that rent? She could of course always wait tables, or even bus them instead until the debt was settled, so this debt wouldn't necessarily have to be settled exclusively with sex, but sex was obviously on my mind, and this was Sin City.

…In any event, my wandering mind suddenly comes clearly into focus as little Jimmy finds his mark, and Big Jimmy slowly pulls me onto him by my ass. I feel my whole face light right up and an unintentional "OH" escapes my lips, suddenly very sober, and little Jimmy apparently not so "little" at all. I become aware that Jimmy has been studying my face this whole time. My shocked expression is likely very good for his male ego, but I don't think a man like Jimmy has any problems there.

I'm not exactly a size queen myself, being petite as I am. In comparison, Sam is average in every way, but on his slight and thin frame his average stature looks much more than average, and it is this that I've grown accustomed to over the years anyway. But that hasn't been in several months, and my quasi-celebate lifestyle has no doubt affected me down there, "tightened me up" so to say. And now I suddenly feel myself getting seriously stretched out by Jimmy's girth, so much so that I'm not entirely sure that it even feels good yet, but I'm so lusted up and committed that I ride right through the pain, much like the first time those two young college men took me to their dorm, and introduced me to something new, in tag-team fashion.

Chair sex isn't exactly the best for going deep either, at least for me, but that being said Jimmy is eventually hitting some new spots anyway, my still clothed chest pressed up tight against his chin. I'm towering over him in this position too, despite my slight stature, and I bend my neck and kiss his sweaty forehead, and he reciprocates by kissing his way down my neck toward my cleavage. It's strange to be this passionately involved and still almost fully dressed, with or without my husband, but my boiling lust, and the ever present familiar handcuffs, makes me just go with it. With little Jimmy fully involved, Big Jimmy now has both of his hands free, and he swoops them under my legs and pins my lower legs to his forearms, my heels now tight on my lower back. His hands find their way under my hiked dress and panties to cup my ass directly; this a further skin-on-skin stimuli that I just don't need.

I'm in sensory overload with my knees pointing toward the floor on the sides of Jimmy's expensive and creaking chair, and my impaled womanhood even more stretched and open now, Jimmy taking advantage of this new control over my bound body to start thrusting into me, by bouncing me posessively on his lap. I start rolling my hips cooperatively, we then getting into a rhythm of sorts with each other, this gifting of myself to Jimmy for a reduced sentance for my Sam suddenly turning into some very athletic and sweaty sex. I didn't come here looking for sex, but here I am anyway, less than an hour after Jimmy had answered his door for me. I like sex though, and I like to be bound up too, and this sex I'm having with Jimmy is starting to get very good for me, this therefore is certainly not a one sided thing. The alcohol has lubricated this process for me too though, lowered my inhibitions, and my guilty conscience hasn't said a word, my mind not even fully realizing the consequences of Jimmy potentially blowing his load deep inside me, inside my fertile womb.

My body is doing all this like it's on autopilot though, trying to milk my lover so as to have a successful copulation, although one conspicuously not with my husband. "I couldn't stop this now if I tried, so why should I?" I ask myself reasonably. I'm here now, and I don't even fully realize all the little steps of betrayal that have placed me on Jimmy's lap like a human sex doll, I just know that I'm committed, and also that my body wants this too. It's been far too long without for me already, I couldn't imagine going twelve full years waiting for Sam's release, married or not.

I become aware of the slapping noises that our bodies are making as Jimmy aggressively bounces me on his lap, where our bodies contact each other, flesh-on-flesh. There are other noises as well, all sorts of them, wheezes, and grunts, and squeaks; I'm a noisy bitch, once I really get going, or so I've been told, but playfully so. As I've said, I like sex, and when it's done well, my body likes it too.

I'm not in control of this, and coming to terms with this reminds me that Jimmy is taking me where he wills, even though I'm not exactly being taken there against my will. It still feels a little bit like this to me though with the cuffs and all, and this little fallacy that I allow myself brings a long overdue orgasm crashing down on me. I struggle through it, bucking and thrashing like a mad woman, but the familiar cuffs don't give way, and neither do Jimmy's powerful arms that are pinning my strong legs and body in place. I struggle almost as if I'm trying to escape, but we both know that's not the case.

…I won't say it was the best orgasm of my entire life, but it certainly was the best in quite some time, maybe even years…

Jimmy is still inside of me though, and had only altered the pace of things slightly as I rode through my epic orgasm, but now that I've had one my mind starts to work again, realizing the peril I've placed myself into, although I tell myself for a good reason. I'm not on anything, and Jimmy most certainly isn't wearing a condom… and I haven't been with my own husband, intimately, in months.

"Jimmy, I'm not on anything, whatever you do, don't cum in me" I tell him in breathless fashion, the desperation in my voice obvious. The sex was actually really good, and even productive if it keeps my Sam from entertaining the hardenened criminal men in a similar way that he could potentially be incaraserated with for the next twelve years without Jimmy's intervention. Our lawyer had attempted to communicate this to us without coming right out and saying such, but I think we both got the message anyway. Sam was small enough to become everybody's favorite prison bitch in anything but a minimum security prison, and maybe even in there too, without Jimmy's mercy that I would gladly buy at almost any price. The guards in either place could either look out for him, or throw him to the hungry and horney wolves, and Jimmy did have powerful connections, probably even in prison.

"I know that Kim," Jimmy tells me softly as our eyes meet from only inches apart, this perhaps the true message that Jimmy wanted to give my thieving husband while helplessly behind bars. Were Jimmy to knock me up right here and now, the evidence of such would become obvious in the coming months, Jimmy in effect taking something from my Sam that he had never really had in the first place, despite our marriage. We wanted to earn our wealth, Sam and I, before I opened my womb to him, then starting our own family in relative financial comfort, but Jimmy was going to ruin all that on us, on Sam. This was perhaps the true price he was going to pay for his crimes.

I would pay too though, because I would find myself sitting next to Sam in court the very next day with something - some little human - potentially growing inside of me, and there was no way I could possibly tell my Sam all this without crushing his soul. Would Sam sense that something was different, or would everything else he was going through personally blind him to the fact that something else had happened with profound implications too?

My wandering thoughts were brought back to the "here and now" by Jimmy's probing finger, he touching off on my puckered back side passage, this one of those things that those two young college men had introduced me to many years ago. I'm no stranger to such things obviously, but to say that we did them often would be a lie, because this is again something that I just don't get all that much out of personally. It's taboo and nasty, but Jimmy just touching off back there throws a switch for me, and the increased and frantic pace of his bouncing thrusts tells me he's going to deliver his special "present" deep inside my fertile doors in mere seconds, whether I want it or not.

I don't want to cum again, but there's just no stopping it now either, and as I fire off in orgasm number two on Jimmy's pounding manhood, he does too. I feel surge after surge of his hot baby making seed paint my unprotected womb, he holding himself deep within me with his powerful muscles as he emptied himself into me, all as nature intended.

"I'll simply never get tired of doing that," Jimmy tells me, in exhausted but satisfied fashion, although left less than clear is; doing that to me specifically, or doing that in general, or even actually making babies? He has grown children of his own, with more than one ex-wife, so why add someone like me to his brood-mare list? Retribution is one thing, but we're talking about a little life here, unless Jimmy intends that my Sam and I, after he pays his debt to society, raise this little human as our own? Such would be a permanent reminder of Sam's treachery, if he knew? "How could he not though?" I then ask myself. "Do they even have conjugal visits in minimum security?" I then wonder hopefully.

…After both of our breathing returns to normal I become aware of the sweaty mess that I've become, but I have potentially much larger growing problems within. Jimmy had done what he intended, although had I any idea that this would be the net result I may have opted to take our chances with the judge's mercy instead. But, truthly, maybe not, Sam most certainly would not fare all that well amongst hardened criminals in a "real prison."

I then think that maybe we're done, and Jimmy is about to release me and send me on my way, surely to see each other in court the following day, I perhaps even able to keep my composure when we did. My dress may even be ruined, at least two buttons sent flying during our extended lovemaking, I am not looking forward to taking a taxi home looking like this either. I feel like a tramp, and I'm sure that I look like one too now with my hair and clothes looking disheveled, although there are nicer words used in this town for such people.

Jimmy wiggles little Jimmy free and pulls my panties back in place, trapping his oozing seed inside my gaping womanhood. It's a false-hope, last-ditch effort at birth control, and of dubious effectiveness anyway, but I think if I can just get to a bathroom someplace and let this "essence of Jimmy" ooze out of me, I may not actually be knocked up yet. Jimmy's having none of that though, and he stands up easily as I sit on top of his legs, again feeling like little more than a doll in his powerful presence. He steps out of his pants as he carries my still handcuffed self easily toward a comfortable chair, possibly even an antique, all as he kicks them along in front of us.

He has a plan, that much is obvious, but instead of placing me on the very nicely upholstered high backed heavy chair in the conventional way - where I could potentially leak his fresh seed all over it - he puts my shoulders on the seat area with my head hanging off of it, and my legs with the remainder of my body straight up the tall backrest. My arms are still cuffed and trapped under me, so getting out of this predicament all on my own could be a slight challenge, but I dare not try as this is obviously what Jimmy wants.

My dress has fallen to my waist with the position I have been forced into, but I have just made love to this man and may well be carrying his seconds-old baby, so this bare leg and panty exposure should be a small thing, all things considered. But, I'm at a low, psychologically, having just orgasmed twice by another man's touch, all to buy my foolish husband some mercy. I hadn't even planned on making love to Jimmy, let alone carrying his baby, but here we are.

My knees are at the top of the tall backrest of the chair where my head belongs; if I were taller. But they're bent over the top and my bare feet and ankles are behind the heavy backrest, Jimmy then taking his belt from his pants and belting my ankles to the chair, trapping me in place. I don't have any choice here, but I make eye contact with him as he looks back at me from over my trapped knees, his smile one of satisfaction, although I fail to see the real reason for binding me so, other than to force feed me little Jimmy when he's done, to have me clean him off.

"It might take up to an hour for all those 'little swimmers' to reach their mark, and gravity always helps" Jimmy tells me by way of an explanation, their little doubt now that Jimmy intends this to be the perceived price for Sam's theft; my carrying his baby.

"Dress doesn't do you justice, in fact, I never want to see you wear it again. I'm going to have one of my girls pick out something for you to wear to court tomorrow, and if you don't, I'll know that you really don't want my help."

Jimmy then walks over to his desk intercom, "'Yevette, could you come in here please, and bring a good pair of scissors too if you would?'"


You can also leave your feedback & comments about this story on the Plaza Forum