Some testing

Ellen had cooked you up a feast. First she brought in a steak with hand-cut chips, then pasta carbonara, then chicken stir fry. After all that, she brought out apple tarte tatin with ice cream. Whilst you ate you perused the little report she had composed, which basically was a brochure about why she'd make an excellent wife. It was rather sweet. She wrote about her skill at cooking, baking, housekeeping, and looking after children. She talked about her dick-sucking ability, her tightness, her flexibility, and her willingness to try anything in bed. Finally she described herself as loyal, submissive and obedient, and caring.

Once you had finished you called her into the dining room. She looked up at you expectantly, clearly nervous. "I'm impressed so far" you told her, "but now I'd like to conduct a little assessment. We're gonna have some fun together, and you're going to prove yourself to me. You might have to do most of the heavy lifting since I'm a little full" you told her, rubbing your belly with a smile.

Over the next few hours you used her in every way you could think of, while she desperately tried to prove her value. Women had been dumbed down and coded to seek marriage and family above all else, above any ambitions they might have, above their friends, above their dignity and pride. What's more, with men now able to take advantage of women so easily, fewer and fewer wanted to get tied down and marry young. This meant girls, like Ellen, were **** to snag a man, and with little else to offer but obedience and submissiveness, sex was a big part of landing a man.

You started off by having her jerk you off - she was proficient, gentle but enthusiastic. Then you tested her head: she had good technique, far from neglected your balls, and was able to deepthroat pretty well. After exhausting all the other methods of non-penetrative sex (you made her give you a thighjob, footjob, and titjob) you came for the first time, finishing in her mouth.

Then it was time to try out her pussy - it was tight, gripping your dick well, and she knew what she was doing. She rode you well, and like she said in her report, she was very flexible. You switched position every 30 seconds or so, so you could try fucking her from different angles. After some time you were ready to finish, and you asked her whether you could finish inside her - this was a trick question of sorts, you would do it regardless of her answer but wanted to see what she'd say. Not only did she say yes, but she began begging for it. Pulling her hair, you **** yourself deep inside of her and filled her tight pussy with your cum. The second you pulled out, she turned around and began cleaning your dick of her juices and your cum.

Up to this point her performance was very promising, but you weren't done yet. Two rounds deep you needed a break, and she obediently brought you a drink whilst you cooled off, even changing into a new set of lingerie to get you back in the mood. It was time to try her ass. She was squeamish, and was clearly struggled with the pain, but didn't at all protest. You drilled her tight little asshole for the best part of twenty minutes, and by the end you were surprised the neighbours hadn't come to complain about the noise, her moans getting progressively louder as you fucked her harder and harder. All good things must come to an end however, and eventually you did finish, cumming without warning inside of her.

Having had your fill for the evening you got back dressed. Upon seeing this she began to ask how she did, but you cut her off. You informed her that whilst you had tested her out in bed, you still needed to test out her obedience, and how far she'd go to please you. Throughout the whole evening Ellen had been incredibly enthusiastic, constantly smiling and bouncing up and down on her feet with excitement, however, with cum leaking down her thighs, her mascara running, and both her ass and pussy sore, she was unable to hide her disappointment. This momentary lull didn't last however; she seemed to believe your thoroughness must mean you was serious about marrying her.

You started with some light spanking, that slowly ramped up until you were hitting her ass hard with your belt. She took it well, even though she was visibly pained by the end. You then had her kiss your feet and suck your toes - this wasn't something you were particularly into, but you knew it would be task she'd dislike - and then eat your ass. By the time she swallowed a load of your piss, you were convinced she'd do anything that you'd ask.

You started to feel conflicted: you had came here with no intention of ever seeing Ellen again, but in many ways she was wife material, like you had commented in the cafeteria. She was beautiful, submissive, good in bed, easy to manipulate, and you felt sure she'd make both a great wife and mother. You also began to feel a little guilty: her childish excitement and the massive effort she'd put into the evening making you feel bad about stringing her along. Just as you were weighing up actually going on a date with her, she said something that made your decision a whole lot easier.

"So, do you want to date me then? My Daddy's flying in from Switzerland soon and he'd be over the moon if he knew he might be able to marry me off soon..." she said, looking up at you.

"Oh yeah, what is it your dad does in Switzerland?" you asked, purposely avoiding the question.

"He is president of USB. Or USC. Or BUS. I don't know anything about it, but it's some sort of bank. You probably won't have heard of it." she replied.

You had heard of UBS, Switzerland's biggest bank, of course. Ellen having a very, very rich Daddy had turned your maybe into a yes.

"I'll take you out for dinner at the weekend. Somewhere nice. And I'll meet your dad, and then maybe we can talk about getting married at some point in the future" you told her. This could work out very nicely you thought to yourself: if you married Ellen you would get a lovely, dumb, wife, and a ton of money to boot. She, and her family who lived 5,000 miles away, would be blissfully unaware if you continued fucking any pretty girl you come across anyway.

She was a sight for sore eyes: her make-up had run down her face, her body was covered in piss and cum, her ass was bright red, and she was wearing ripped and stained lingerie, but upon hearing your invitation she looked like the happiest girl in the world. You exchanged numbers and you headed home, taking a couple of bottles of wine from her wine rack for good measure.