A follow up to Mick Sloan's story titled "Newylweds" By Jim Lake Tori estimated it would take six weeks to train her new husband. It took her only six days. In that brief period she had overpowered Mark, beating him senseless time after time. She had broken his body and, more important, broken his will. He followed every one of her orders without question. He knew even a disgusted look could earn him another whipping from his muscular wife. Tori's two immediate goals were to make him physically afraid of her and sexually dependent on by her. Mark wasn't afraid of his new wife. He was terrified of her. Despite being 6-foot-2 and 210 pounds, his attempts to fight back during those fateful first three days proved totally fruitless. He was no match for her. She began to control the minute they returned from their honeymoon. After just three days of being dominated he feared her so much that he didn't even consider trying to escape when she left for work that first Monday. "The beatings I have given you so far will be nothing compared to how badly I will hurt you if you test me in the future," Tori explained. It was a Tuesday, their sixth night back home. Tori wanted to deliver a message so strong that Mark would never entertain the notion of challenging her. He had crawled up the stairs as usual on his hands and knees, with Tori riding his back, yanking his hair to steer him in the proper direction. When they reached the bedroom, she ordered him to lie flat on the ground and stood on him while changing into a yellow string bikini. She rode him back down the stairs and then down to the finished basement. Tori began her demonstration with 50 pushups. Then she ordered Mark to lie on her back and she did 20 more. "Next I want you to hit me in the stomach as hard as you can," she said. "But Mistress, ." he said in gentle protest, using the only term in which he was allowed to address his new wife. "Do it," she demanded. "And you better hit me hard. First with your right hand. Then your left." Mark delivered a solid right to Tori's bare stomach. It had no effect on the 5-10, 155-pound woman. Neither did Mark's left-handed punch. "Harder," she yelled. Mark punched away. Right. Left. Right. Right. "You weakling," Tori said in disgust. "Hit me again. Harder. Harder!" After more than 20 punches Mark gave up, his arms tired, his fists bruised. "Go upstairs Little Boy, take the two six-packs from the fridge that I told you to buy, pour the beer down the drain and bring down the empties," she ordered. Mark, his hands aching, hurried up the stairs as fast as he could, afraid to do anything that would displease her. He had no idea why she wanted empty beer bottles. But he didn't dare question her. "Break the bottles over there on the concrete floor," she told him. Mark, as always, did as he was told. He gave her a puzzled look. "Now jump on my back," she demanded. The indestructible Tori, effortlessly carrying her husband piggyback, walked barefoot over the broken bottles. The shards of brown glass seemed to have no effect on her bare feet, despite being weighed down by her 210- pound load. She walked back and forth across the glass without a whimper for nearly five minutes. She dropped her husband nearby, then slowly lowered herself to the floor, her bare back lying atop the broken glass. "Stand on me stomach Little Boy," she ordered. "Now jump and down and see if you can hurt me. You will not get another chance." He did as he was told, 10, 15 times jumping up and down on Tori's muscular midsection. She looked as comfortable as if resting on a hammock. Tori could see the awe in Mark's face. Another lesson learned. She had taken away all hope that he could ever possibly defeat her. Just six days and she had proved to her new husband that he was an inferior being. Mark no longer existed as an individual. His only purpose in life would be to please her. He was merely an extension of his wife, her absolute slave. When he had not prepared dinner for her when she returned from work that first Monday, she ordered him to learn how to cook. Before she left for work each morning she told Mark exactly what she wanted for dinner that evening, forcing him to go to the super market every day. She also told him what he would be allowed to eat for lunch, usually a tuna fish or peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "From now on you will drink only water," she decreed. "Understood?" "Yes Mistress," he replied. The second week began with a new set of orders for Mark. She had forced him to quit his job as soon as they returned from the honeymoon so that he would have more time to tend to her needs. As a successful lawyer she made more than enough money to support both of them. She wanted to make him totally dependent on her. After he had performed his morning chores to start the day, brushing her teeth, washing her in the shower while on his knees, dressing her and carrying her down the stairs, they took their usual positions at breakfast. Mark sat on the floor and placed one hand, palm down, on her chair. She sat on his hand, able to control him even while eating and reading the newspaper. Usually she allowed Mark a small bowl of dry cereal, no milk, after she left for work. "Your first job today Baby Boy will be to drive me to work," she said. "Then I want you to go directly to Maddox Motors where you will leave the car and pick up my new Lexus." Mark wondered why Tori needed a new car. Her current BMW was less than two years old with only 17,000 miles. He didn't dare question her. "Then you will take your Corvette back to Maddox and trade it in for your new vehicle," she laughed. "It's a 1989 Ford Taurus with 120,000 miles. You see my Dear, if anyone saw our current cars, they might mistakenly think we are equals. And you know that isn't true." Mark offered no objection. He could only put his head down, knowing he would miss his 1999 silver Vette, like losing a friend. "Next I want you to start building a gym for me in the basement," she said. "I want a wrestling mat, a weight bench, a full set of free weights, an exercise bike and stair master. I expect the gym ready by Friday. By the way, you will not be allowed to use any of the equipment. They are there only to make me stronger." Tori then detailed exactly what she wanted for dinner and how to prepare it. "For lunch you may have a bologna sandwich on white bread, no mustard," she said. "And only one slice of bologna on the sandwich." Before they left for work, Mark got down on his hands and knees, as was their ritual, and kissed both of his wife's buttocks through her skirt. He followed her out the door and, acting like a chauffeur, drove her to work while she sat in the back and read the paper. Mark was dead tired. He couldn't adjust to their sleeping arrangement. She had devised an ingenious plan that allowed her to be in total control of her husband even while she slept. She demanded that he lie flat on his back on their bed. Wearing only panties, she made him place his hands inside them, one on each of her buttocks. If he moved at all he would wake up his wife, earning himself a savage beating. Her magnificent naked body so aroused him that he had a hard on all night. Tori's total domination of her husband was complete. Mark wondered if any person had ever been so dominated by their mate. He was positive no woman had ever beaten her husband so severely and made him obey so completely. He had no idea that Tori's plan had just begun. Tuesday Tori told Mark to go to the Salvation Army and purchase the worst looking sofa he could find and put it in the basement. That night she explained why. "I know you don't get much rest at night with me sleeping on top of you Honey, exciting you the way I do," he said. "And I know you sleep during the day while I'm at work and after your chores are finished. But I don't want you in my bed while I'm not here. Is that clear? And I don't want you sleeping on the sofa in the living room either. That's my place. You can rest on your sofa, in the basement." The next evening, she rode Mark upstairs to their bedroom and forced him to lie face down on the floor. Tori went through his closet, removed most of his clothes and threw them in a heap in front of him. She took his favorite T-shirt, a gray one with "Ohio State," his alma mater, lettered in scarlet across the chest, and tore it in half. She stared at Mark, daring him to complain. He didn't. "I want you to donate these tomorrow to the Goodwill," she said. "You will have no need for them. From now on, while I am home, you will be totally naked. I like your body, and seeing how your cock reacts to me." Tori also enjoyed seeing the many bruises on her husband, further proof of her dominance. Mark was in the bathroom the next evening when Tori returned from work, beeping the horn twice as she drove in the driveway to announce her arrival. He quickly finished his business and ran to the front door, knowing he would be in serious trouble if he wasn't waiting at the door on his hands and knees to greet her. As soon as she entered the house, he removed her shoes and began kissing her stockinged feet. This is what Tori had always wanted, a totally submissive husband anxiously awaiting her return. She patted him on the head as if were a dog. That night at dinner Tori announced her newest method of humiliating him. She usually fed him a few scraps from the table, allowing him to eat after she had finished and retired to the living room to watch TV. His dinner consisted of a few leftovers from her plate. "Did you buy the two-bowl dog dish that I asked you to get?" she asked. "Yes Mistress," he replied. "From now on you will no longer eat at the table my Dear," she proclaimed. "You may eat your dinner out of the dog dish, sitting on the floor. You will not use utensils." Further humiliation. She also informed him he could fill the other dish only with luke warm tap water. "I have a special assignment for you today my Dear," Tori said the next morning at breakfast. "I want you to go to your bank and withdraw all your money in the form of checks. Endorse them and deposit them in my account at National Mutual. Then call your financial planner and tell him to sell all your stocks and mail a check here in my name." Money meant little to Mark. He accepted the command without a question. She had already taken away his wallet, removed everything and given it back with only his driver's license and a new credit card. "You have no need for cash my love," she said. That night, after dinner, they assumed their normal positions in the living room. Mark was on his hands and knees with Tori resting her bare feet on his back, turning him into a human footstool. She watched TV, talked on the phone or prepared for a trial. When the phone rang, Tori answered on the first ring. "Hello," she said. "Yes Eric, Mark is here, but he can't come to the phone. He's not allowed to talk on the phone anymore." Eric was Mark's best man at the wedding. They had been friends since high school. Mark had promised to call as soon as he returned from the honeymoon. After three weeks had passed without word from Mark, Eric decided to call. "I know you two used to be friends," Tori told Eric. "But Mark is married now and I'm the only friend he needs. So please don't call anymore." She said goodbye and hung up without waiting for a reply. Mark knew he would never see Eric, or any of his other friends, again. Tori's often beat him until he cried. This time she made him cry without touching him. Tori smiled. She knew she had won again. She had humiliated Mark to his best friend. He was a beaten man. Tori's list of chores for Mark seemed endless. The projects kept getting bigger and bigger. She added a completion date with each one, forcing him to work feverishly all day. He had already painted the outside of the house and nearly finished building a large deck. She added a morning spanking to their routine, beating his bare butt with one her shoes until it bled. Mark couldn't sit down even if he had time. The lack of sufficient sleep and food weakened him. In the first three months of their marriage he lost 40 pounds, down to 170. Meanwhile, Tori had added 17 pounds of muscle. At 172, she now outweighed her husband. But he was still required to carry his wife around the house. Tori had kept her vow from that first night. She had not walked in her own home. They had enjoyed college football during their dating days. Some Saturdays Mark was still allowed to watch games with Tori, sitting below her, her legs wrapped tightly around his neck. This Saturday Mark's Ohio State team was playing rival Michigan. The Wolverines were undefeated and ranked No. 2 in the country. Ohio State had lost only once, to Michigan State, and was ranked No. 8. Mark had been looking forward to the game for a month, but Tori had another surprise for him. She ordered him to get on his hands and knees again, slipped a blindfold over his head and stuck cotton in his ears. Mark would not be able to see or hear the game. Since she had already forbidden him from watching TV on his own, listening to the radio, reading the newspaper or talking with friends, he never found out who won the game. She had proven again that Mark's only pleasure in life would be serving her. He literally had become her pet dog. He enthusiastically rushed to the front door to greet her every day. He lived to kiss her feet. She favored him sometimes at night by allowing him to kiss the bottoms of her bare feet while she stood on him undressing. He enjoyed sitting on the floor beside while she ate dinner, encouraged when she patted him on the head. He constantly sought her approval. Sex with his dominant wife kept Mark content. Her magnificent body enchanted him. The rules had changed since they married. Tori decided when they would do it and Mark's only purpose was to please her. She was always on top and in control. One Saturday morning, Tori's favorite time for love, she totally ravished her weak husband. "You can't live without me, can you Baby?" she asked. "No Mistress," he replied. "Do you understand now why had I take control of you? I'm sorry if I had to beat you and humiliate you so often early in the relationship. But it was important for you to realize this marriage could not succeed with equal partners. You had to be trained. Now you have become the perfect husband and I love you my Dear. Aren't you happier than before?" "Yes Mistress." "Everything I do is for our benefit. You have to be aware that sometimes, seemingly for no reason, I will still beat you. This is a need of mine. I have always been stronger and tougher than the males in my life and enjoyed proving my physical superiority. I promise that I will explain to you why you are being beaten, whether it's for punishment or purely my pleasure." Mark no longer questioned anything Tori said. She had forced him into a subservient role and he accepted it. The physical abuse he endured convinced him he had no other choice than to obey her. He lived only to please his superior wife. That's all he thought about now, making her happy and making her proud of him. Tori's work at the law firm began improving soon after their marriage. With absolutely nothing to worry about at home, she had time to prepare for each day. Three months later the six male partners invited the 31-year-old Tori to be a partner, the first female to achieve such status in the 45-year-old firm. Tori Cavanaugh delivered the final strike against her husband exactly six months to the day after their wedding. "I have special treat for you today my Baby," she announced to Mark Rice at breakfast. "You will go to the County Court House and fill out papers to have your name legally changed to mine. Your new name will be Baby Boy Cavanaugh." "Thank you Mistress," he said, leaning over and kissing his wife's bare feet.