The Will Of The Wongs

The six months before the wedding became a crucible for Arthur, testing the limits of his submission and his love. One month after the engagement party, Mei decided to test those limits further.

She tied a naked Arthur to a sturdy kitchen chair, the ropes cutting into his wrists. "I'm going out on a date tonight," she announced casually, checking her reflection in the mirror. "Good, hard cock is what I need. Your mouth just isn't cutting it anymore."

"No," Arthur whispered, then louder, "No, Mei, please don't..."

"Oh, Arthur," she cooed, patting his cheek condescendingly. "You beg so prettily." She picked up a ball gag from the counter. "But I don't want to hear it tonight."

As the silicone ball filled his mouth, his pleas became muffled grunts. Mei slammed the apartment door, leaving him in darkness and despair. Hours passed, the ropes digging deeper, the gag straining his jaw. When he heard her key in the lock just before dawn, a wave of relief so intense it bordered on ecstasy washed over him.

Mei untied him, removed the gag, then pulled a hood over his head. "Good boy," she whispered, forcing his face between her legs. He could smell the mingled scent of her arousal and another man's semen. His mind screamed NO, but his hands, traitors, clutched at her thighs. His stomach turned, but his tongue, Judas, began to clean her. If I prove my worth, he rationalized, if I show her my devotion, she will abandon her need for other men.

This delusion shattered the night she brought a date home. Arthur, hooded but not gagged, was sitting in the living room when they stumbled through the door. He heard their laughter, their heavy breathing as they made out on the sofa just feet from him. The man's voice was deep and confident. "Your little pet watching?" he'd asked.

"He likes it," Mei had replied. Arthur fought the leather hood, gasping for air as panic set in. When Mei finally released him, something inside him broke. He ripped the hood off and threw it on the floor

"Arthur?" Mei's voice cut through the haze. "Put it back on."

He looked at the black mask, then at her beautiful, cruel face, and something ancient and primal roared to life within him. He grabbed the hood, threw it at her, and scrambled for his clothes. He locked himself in the bathroom, dressing with frantic, trembling hands.

Mei was waiting when he emerged, arms crossed, radiating power. She was ready to watch him crumble. Instead, Arthur walked straight past her, not daring to speak, and slammed the door so hard that the pictures on the wall shuddered.

The deafening silence that followed was his victory. But outside, as he leaned against the hallway wall, he heard it—a sound that chilled him to the bone. It was the sound of Mei's self-control finally breaking. A single, sharp sob, quickly muffled. She had pushed him too hard, too fast.