Shut In

Your husband, Luther Venn, is a 28 year-old electrical power lineman. He’s also an avid hunter, which is why he agreed to go on a hunting trip for two weeks in Canada with a few of his buddies. You’ve never been a fan of them due to their crude treatment of their wives, but Luther’s always treated you like a queen and he deserved the break.

However, since coming back, he hasn’t been the same. It’s as if that primal part of man that’d been released refused to simmer. You’re right in that you blame it on his buddies and the ideas they blabbered on about. The kind that manipulates a man when he’s already pumped up as a predator hunting prey.

He’s been spending so many hours in the basement doing Lord knows what, yet every time you ask him about it, he gets defensive, rude, and snippy. So you just stopped. Then, even worse, he hires a maid. For what reason? You take care of the house just fine. There’s no reason for the extra help. Sure, it’s a big two-story house with a pool and back patio, but you like how much it keeps you busy.

Luther had stayed up on the final night before it was ready, thoughts and plans circulating in his mind. She’ll be able to visit friends and family, enjoy social outings, holidays, and such. But this should keep her occupied. And then… fuck I’m hard. Luther imagined you pregnant, your belly swollen from the many nights he intends to bed you in the sanctuary he’s devising. Only when she’s with child will I let her return to the main house.

Yet you remain unaware of these plans, filled with worry and accompanied by distress from his absence.

One night, a blizzard coating the ground with layers of frost beyond the warmth of your home, he’d surprised you. In more ways than one. He’d cooked a full feast, lit candles, and had doused you with the affection you’d been craving, aching for over glasses of your favorite wine. Yet around that time, the bottle halfway empty, you’d grown tired. Luther knowing you’re a lightweight kept your glass full, all the while keeping you in his lap after dinner snuggled in the living room.

It was when you fell asleep against his chest that he carried you downstairs into the remodeled basement. No longer a stale empty space full of boxes and dust, he’d completely refurnished and constructed it. The room’s filled with punishment tools, leather outfits, toys, bondage furniture, and a walk-in closet of lingerie. He built in a kitchenette, a glorious bathroom with heated tiles, a living room with a full-surround sound TV system, a study area he’d expanded underground, as well as the best part: the extravagant bedroom.

Laying you across the bed framed by a canopy with thin drapes, bars at the headboard for restraints and cuffs, he snuggles beside you. On the side table is a full packet laying out the rules he intends to put in place, to share with you the moment you awaken. His large palm cupping your breast, he snuggles his face against your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

When morning comes, you’re naturally distraught, groggy, and disorientated by the change of environment as your eyes flicker open, observing the vintage decor, sultry accents, and varnished walls. Luther helps you sit up, shushing you before you can ask, anticipating every question. “You deserve the truth, my love,” he gentles. “I really did mean every word last night. To think I’ve made you feel so alone and unwanted, that was never my intention! But now, now my sweet, I can show you why I’ve been so distant. It’s because of this sanctuary I’ve built.” He traces your jaw before tilting your chin, chuckling, “Our love nest. It’s got everything you could possibly need or want. And anything else you might require, I’ll retrieve it in a heartbeat.”

Pressing a kiss to your cheek, his hand runs down your curves, squeezing and groping tenderly, achingly. “I know this is a shock, and adjustment. But I don’t want you to be scared. Just… please hear me out. At that hunting trip, all the guys, they’d just been talking about how close them and their wives were, about their control and dominance, keeping their women in line, their marriages alive. Now don’t get me wrong, we’ve got a damn good marriage. But why not keep trying to better it? Better us?” With a deep breath, his heartbeat pounding, he admits, “Yes, I want to keep you down here longterm. Even when I’m at work. But you’ll still get to go out. I’ll make sure you’re present for every holiday, any social outing, and visits with your family and friends. I promise, sweetheart. And then, once we’re finally pregnant, you can go back up permanently.”

He’s envisioned you in every sexy compromising position while having built this place: You bent over the spanking bench, cuffed to the stripping pole with him stroking his cock while sitting across on the leather lounge he’d bought, you on all knees while strapped in leather sucking him off or crying out as he fucks you from behind, chaining you to the bed as he tortures your cunt with the sex machine, locked in the cage he’d filled with comforters and pillows anytime you don’t deserve the bed, and oh so much more. Including your own dirty fantasies he’s been begging you to share with him for years. He wants to please you like the queen you are.

“Please don’t be scared sweetheart. In case any accidents happen, like a fire, the alarm I’ve installed will activate and unlock the door so you can leave if I’m not here. I’ve left a packet with all the details right on your nightstand. We’ll spend all our nights and days here from now on, with me pleasing you, my lovely woman.”

Tugging your nightshirt up, he cups a bare breast beneath, groaning from the softness squishing between his fingers. “Tell me you love it,” he whispers against your ear.