You are interrupted by Peter

Before you can get a word in, you are interrupted by Peter. "It's too risky. We won't do it."

"But..." you say, just about to ask to have the conditioning lifted.

"No buts. My deciscion is final, and you know that." His voice is firm, but not angry. Somewhere, deep down, you realize there is no point in arguing. "It's not worth the risk. Besides, when I look at you, I don't see my son. I see Jane, my devoted wife. Look at yourself, woman." He grabs you by your hair and yanks your head around, towards a mirror. You wince in pain, but as you do, that same rush you felt when you first saw Peter bubbles back to the surface. "What do you see?"

"A woman," you admit. "Jane. Your wife."

He turns your face to his, lifts your chin, and smiles at you. "That's my girl." From the corner of your eye, you see Carl grinning .

After a few more hours of orientation, you're given cars, and drive over to your new homes, two spacious houses beside each other in a suburb of your new home city. Your house is ready to move into, everything already unpacked before you came, and you'll have the weekend to get to know the house and your new selves better, before your husband starts work in his new job Monday.

As you approach the front door, Peter lifts you up. "It's traditional that the husband carries his bride across the treshold of their new, shared house," he says, "and as you know, our marriage is all about tradition." For the third time, you feel the rush, that strange churning sensation in the pit of your stomach. Arousal. He continues to carry you up the stairs as he continues the talk. "You are my wife, now, and you've promised to obey me in all things. My new job is enough to support us both, and more, so you do not need to work. Instead, you're going to be a good little housewife. Do you understand?"

"Yes," you answer meekly, the churning in your stomach growing stronger with every word.

"You're going to cook, clean, and see to all of my needs. _All _of my needs." He grins as he turns a corner and walks into a spacious bedroom. "And sooner or later, you're going to carry my children. Is that understood, Jane?"

"Yes, sir." As he sets you down in the bed - in your bed, the bed you now share with him - you're almost shaking with anticipation. There's no question about what is to come, as he unzips your dress and roughly drags it up over your head. He bends over and undoes your bra, as your hands stretch out towards his crotch, undoing his belt and pants, dragging them down.

His large member pops out, inches from your face, the bulbous head glistening. You're about to lean forward when he pushes you back, roughly, and rips your thong off you. Now dressed only in your stockings, you slide yourself up the bed as he undresses himself.

"If I'm honest, I didn't tell you that you weren't allowed to have the conditioning lifted because of the risk it posed. I did it because, looking at you, I knew that I wanted you. I wanted to be inside you. From the moment I set my eyes on you. And I wanted you to be my good little housewife. Lifting the conditioning would have made you something else." He crawls up towards you, placing his hands on your wrists, pressing your legs apart with his knee. "I did it because you are mine, and you are going to stay mine." Your body is quivering. You can feel the tip of his cock at your opening, your wet, welcoming slit, soaking with a need to be filled by this dominating, controlling man. "Say it. Say that you are mine."

There's little resistance from you. The need is too much. "I am yours," you say, in the weirdest mixture of victory and defeat. And you feel him slide inside you, taking you. "I love you," you whisper, then shout, as the tension builds. "I am yours. Your little wife, to do with as you please! Oh, God, oh God, oh God!"

You come, and moments later you feel him twitch, tense up, and unload inside of you. He collapses on top of you, and a few seconds later pulls out, giving you a deep kiss as he crawls off you. "Now, I think it's time you went downstairs and start making dinner." You get up, still high from your orgasm, and he swats your ass as you get out of bed. "No. No clothes. I want to see you like that when I come down, all naked and beautiful and submissive."

"Yes, sir," you beam at him as you walk out the door.

Coming downstairs, into the kitchen, the high from your orgasm starts to fade. Your arousal still makes it hard to think straight, but... there's a part of you that's feeling a bit uncomfortable about what you just did. About what Peter just told you. His power over you is scary. And you - Jane-you - likes that. What kind of fucked up people in the Witness Protection thought up this scenario? Or was this your fathers fantasy? Your mothers? Yours, somehow? It is now, anyway. You can feel your husbands cum sliding out of your pussy, and you find yourself enjoying it. Enjoying the humiliating idea that you were just used for his pleasure. That he came inside you, unprotected. That there was a very real, if small, chance that right now one of his sperms was about to fertilize an egg inside of you, and that if it did, it would be entirely his choice if you kept it or not. He was the man of the house.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of the fantasy. But what can you do? You are Jane. Her fantasies and reactions towards her husband are your fantasies and reactions towards your husband. You have to find a way out. Or, maybe, you should just submit to your desires?