Chapter 5
W hen work is over, I’m already on the prowl for the next girl. You’d think I’d have my fill with one, and honestly, I was thinking so too, but old habits die hard. Not to mention the Lord commands us to be fruitful and multiply, and the men of the Old Testament were known for their many wives.
Why should I have live any different?
“And seven women shall take hold of one man in that day, saying, ‘We will eat our own bread and wear our own clothes, only let us be called by your name; take away our reproach.’ Isaiah 4:1.
Why not two or three or seven? I see no issue here. Certainly, if Amy is to convert to God’s law from her sinful ways, she will agree with my decision as the head of the house.
And I will teach her—oh yes, I will teach her. For it is written, “And so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.” Titus 2:4-5.
I will do whatever it takes to make this new world pure and wonderful, and that starts first with the colony I envision: the life I envision from the homestead I have in progress. Amy will be the woman of the house, and she will help me rule over the children and the others who may join us.
There was another before her, Melissa, but I refuse to let my thoughts draw to the failure that was long. She was a good girl for a short while, about three weeks, before her true colors came out and she tried to kill me.
As I stalk the streets of South Philly once more, keeping to the shadows with my dog Matt, I notice a blonde girl who piques my interest.
She’s a streetwalker; beckoning to cars from the side of the road for a night of fun.
The plan is simple.
First, I watch. This usually ranges from a few days to a week or so. I find out their mannerisms, their routine, their address.
Then… I corner them and propose the choice.
I’m near enough now to hear the woman’s name is Katie.
Well, Katie, it’s your lucky day. A man of God plans to show you how wonderful the world can be.
But now… I wait.
After following Katie home and seeing where she lived, I decided to call it a night. Amy was probably growing restless at home, likely hungry too, and Matt was becoming antsy for food himself. At the office, I usually have a little nook for him, but dinner was reserved for the home.
Driving to the outskirts of Philly, traffic is hell as always. I pat Matt on the head a few times, ruffling his ears as we weave in and out of cars on the highway.
On the radio, I have my favorite religious music station playing. God, I never get enough of that.
It’ll be the holidays in no time, and then they’ll start playing their usual cheerful tunes. But for now, it’s mainly choir and worship music.
Nodding along, I feel at peace when I finally pull up the gravel driveway of the house.
Amy is waiting upstairs. A part of me is so excited to see her, the first woman who finally said yes to my offer. I left on the outside lights to illuminate the nearby trees and the field with my livestock enclosed in a wooden fence.
Opening the driver’s side door of the car, I let Matt hop out first before I follow him to the two-story log-cabin-syle house up ahead of the drive.
The porch creaks under my weight, but this entire house is rickety and old; I inherited it from my grandfather.
Like my father, he was a man of the cloth so to speak. A preacher. While I could have been Baptist like them, I decided Catholicism was the way to go before branching out to put down my own roots. Perhaps you could even call my teachings a new denomination.
Yes, that’s it. That sounds perfect, even.
I unlock the front door, and Matt rushes inside with excited yips. “Amy? I’m home!” I yell.
I receive no response.
Hm.
Well, she may be taking a shower or be sleeping. No matter. I’ll make us dinner and fetch her after it’s ready. Tonight, I’m thinking a steak dinner with potatoes.
Waiting for the pan to heat, I feed Matt his kibble and then start preparing the potatoes, chopping and assembling them on a baking dish for the oven. Italian seasoning, steak seasoning, and a pinch of garlic top the potatoes before they’re in and my focus turns to the steak.
I’d prefer grilling, really, but pan-seared is good too. Wrapping up the steak, with minimal seasoning so as not to distract from the medium-rare flavor, I take the potatoes out.
“Good,” I say to myself, nodding. “Very good. This is a perfect first start to Amy’s time here.”
I wonder if she’s found he collection I acquired so she’d have it here. I didn’t put it in her room yet because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I honestly have no doubt she’s gone snooping in my room while I was gone. It’s what I’d expect.
Finished with dinner, I head up the rickety stairs to the second floor, where I find Amy asleep in her room.
She’s splayed over the bed, with the covers haphazardly draped over her body. Her breasts nearly spill out of her tank top.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
I hate being tempted like this. Hate seeing the luscious curves of her sleeping form.
When they’re asleep, it’s so easy to pretend they’re dead.
God. Damnit.
She’s asking for it. Just look at her!
I take a step closer, praying to the Lord that the floorboards creaking don’t wake her.
She is to be my wife. I’m supposed to teach her how to please me like a good wife should…
But we’re not yet wed. I’ll have to punish myself for this later, atone with blood.
And yet…
I take another step toward the bed, running my fingers along the flannel blanket, caressing the fabric. She’s so close now.
I slowly, so fucking slowly, move her so she’s on her back, and luckily, she doesn’t wake. Shit, maybe I should drug her with the chloroform again, just to make sure she stays asleep for a little while longer.
Sliding down the covers, I reach her pants.
She intakes a breath but doesn’t otherwise show any indication that she’s awake, so I press on. It’s just better when they’re dead, you know? When they can’t fight my passion. Sleep is the next best thing.
But I’ll show her my love the way God instructed. Fully, and with all my heart.
And that means teaching her right.
Teaching her to please me.
But I’ll start with pleasing her first.
I tentatively take off her pants, worried she’ll awaken, but she doesn’t move. Damn, is she a heavy sleeper or am I just lucky?
Reaching her panties, they come off next just as easily. I slowly begin to stroke her folds, those delicate little petals of her flower, before nearing the inner part of her core with my finger.
I slip it inside her pussy, surprised to find gushing wetness already there. Hmm. Her body is already reacting to me, despite doing little to arouse her yet. Very curious.
Does she know, deep down inside, that it’s her loving future husband touching her? Desiring her?
I undo the belt of my pants, then pull out my cock, beginning to stroke myself as I touch her.
She mewls a little in her sleep, and I smile.
Good girl. She’s learning well already.
When I’m pleased, she will be pleased.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful. The perfect first wife. The perfect…
With a slight gasp, my seed spurts out over her, coating her bare pussy and right thigh with cum.
Her eyes fly open then. Ah… shit.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she shrieks, hurrying to get away from me on the mattress.
“Loving you, just as the Lord instructed,” I quip, raising a brow. “We’re to wed, after all.”
“What. The. Fuck!” Amy screeches. “Get the fuck away from me.” Noticing the cum on her body, she shudders and gags. “What is this? Oh my God.”
Without thinking, I round the bed and snake my hand out to grasp her throat. Her eyes widen.
“You said you wanted this life,” I sneer, my mood immediately soured. “Act like it, or you’ll need to atone. I will be your husband, and you will obey me. End of story.”