The Cult Leader

Copyright 2025 by Dutch Mark

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means ֠electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise, ֠without prior permission in writing from the author.

 

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental, and for which the author and the publisher shall not be held responsible. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

 

Printed in the United States of America

 

 

 

 

Adult Content Warning

 

Please be advised that this is a very adult story, and is not intended for purchase or reading for any person under the legal age for such purchase and reading within their own country. There are many unusual sexual situations and graphic descriptions of sexual acts between men and women contained in this story, including many elements of corporal punishment and of BDSM. The story is intended solely for the enjoyment of individuals who enjoy reading about such activities, and is not meant to be advocating such activities nor instructing the reader in any way. If such acts and language offend you, please do not purchase this book.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

John Betrug sat comfortably in his opulent dressing room, just a few moments away from going in front of the cameras for his weekly show. As he did before every new show, he gloated to himself that a network affiliate would once again broadcast his next segment to the millions of people in the Southern states who had grown to love and even worship his ‘reality TV’ program. This was one of the few moments that he actually allowed himself a few thoughts of reality, versus the image he had worked hard for years to create.

He took a huge swallow of the Diet Coke that sat on the table, watching with pleasure as the cold liquid poured down his throat, causing his Adam’s Apple to bob up and down. He’d had his own ups and downs getting to this point, but he was certain he was well and truly on his way this time and would soon be enjoying even greater things. Maybe even a syndicated show that brought him fame throughout the entire country!

With that happy thought once more in his mind, Dr. John ponderously heaved his bulk out of the sturdy chair and headed out the door. He adored being adored by millions of fans – some of whom had become very intimate fans indeed – and it was time to go get some more of that wonderful attention.

The studio lights glared down on the small stage of the television program, their harsh brightness casting an almost clinical glow over the set. Dr. John Betrug stood center stage, his hugely imposing figure accentuated by the tailored charcoal suit that hugged his heavy frame in an attempt to make it appear a bit more svelte. His fiery red pompadour, meticulously styled, seemed to defy gravity with a halo-like effect, a stark contrast to the stern scowl normally etched on his face. Blue eyes, piercing and cold, scanned the audience, primarily comprised of young couples but with a few other other eager spectators present, all hanging on his every word.

"Welcome back, folks," Dr. John boomed, his voice deep and authoritative, carrying a dose of a well-rehearsed charm that belied his arrogant nature. "Tonight, we continue our program exploring marital bliss. We have three couples vying for my expert guidance, a chance to win a dream home, and a year of my invaluable counseling. But remember, only one couple will emerge victorious each week. In addition to being invited back to the playoff rounds for the grand prize, they get five thousand bucks and a week of private marriage and financial counseling sessions with me.”

He spread his hands wide and then narrowed them again in a repetitive gesture.

“The others? Well, the weekly second place couple will walk away with a thousand dollars and a single session with yours truly. A consolation prize, but much better than they get on any other similar show. The losers also get one counseling session … which they’ll obviously need,” he said with a sneer.

A murmur rippled through the audience, excited anticipation of how the weekly show’s events would unfold. The three couples, seated on plush couches arranged in a semi-circle around Dr. John, mirrored their excitement, only with much more tension. Two of the men, both young and confident, exuded a domineering air, their arms draped possessively around their partners. Their women, each lovely and submissive looking, fidgeted nervously, their eyes darting between their husbands and Dr. John, seeking approval and reassurance from both. The third couple, also young and attractive, seemed to share a quiet sereneness as they simply held hands.

"Okay, first, let's meet our contestants," Dr. John continued, his gaze settling on the couple immediately to his left. "We have Ben and Sarah, high school sweethearts who've been married for five years. Ben, tell me, what's the secret to your seemingly perfect marriage?"

Ben, a tall, muscular man with a chiseled jaw who either had a very physical job or worked out a lot, leaned forward, his voice oozing confidence. "Simple, Doctor John. I wear the pants in our house. Sarah knows her place, and she's happy with it. I tell her what to do and she does it."

Dr. John looked at Sarah with a slight waving of his hand, but did not actually say anything to invite her comments.

Sarah, a delicate blonde with a shy smile, nodded vigorously, her eyes never leaving Ben's face. "That's right, Dr. John. Ben takes care of everything. I just focus on being a good wife and mother."

Dr. John raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Interesting. And what about you, Sarah? Do you ever crave more independence, more equality or decision making in your marriage?"

Sarah's smile faltered, a fleeting moment of uncertainty crossing her face before she shook her head. "No, Dr. John. I'm content. Ben knows what's best for us."

Dr. John smiled as he turned his attention to the next couple, Jake and Emily. Jake was dressed like he might be a manager in a chain store, and yet he exuded an air of entitlement. Emily, a petite brunette with large breasts and a nervous twitch, sat rigidly beside him.

"Jake, Emily, tell me about your marital dynamic," Dr. John demanded.

Jake smirked, his hand resting possessively on Emily's thigh. "I call the shots, Dr. John. Emily's a bit … skittish. Needs a firm hand to keep her in line."

Emily's cheeks flushed, her eyes downcast. "I … I just want to make Jake happy. He knows what's best for me."

Dr. John's gaze intensified, his blue eyes narrowing. "And what about your desires, Emily? Do they matter?"

Emily's kept her head down and her voice was barely audible. "I … I just want to be a good wife. Jake fulfills all my desires."

Emily had been taught all of her life – by her father, by the Reverend of her Christian Church, and even by her mother – that God’s word proclaimed men were the masters and women should be subservient to them. The belief even meant that, the more powerful the man, the more subservient she should be. Emily believed that the way a good dog believed it should wait until its master allowed it to go and eat its dinner.

Dr. John knew the type well from his many cult members, and could smell the stench of subservience on her stronger than any perfume. He smiled at that thought, a knowing glint in his eyes.

The final couple, David and Lisa, seemed different. David, a soft-spoken artistic type, held Lisa's hand gently. Lisa, a fiery redhead with a spark of defiance in her eyes, sat upright, her posture exuding a quiet strength. "David, Lisa, your turn," Dr. John said, his tone slightly softer as if sensing a different dynamic.

David spoke with a gentle warmth. "We believe in equality, Dr. John. We make decisions together and try to share all responsibilities. It's an equal partnership."

Lisa's voice was steady, her gaze meeting Dr. John's directly. "We communicate well because we listen to each other. It's not about who’s in charge, it's about mutual respect."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the audience. Dr. John's scowl deepened, a flicker of something akin to annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Okay, great. Now that we’ve met our contestants, let’s move on to the next phase.”

After the brief introductions, the quiz segment began, a series of questions designed to test the couples' knowledge of each other and the dynamics of their relationship. Ben and Sarah breezed through, their answers reflecting a traditional, patriarchal dynamic. Jake and Emily struggled, their responses revealing deep ignorance of each other due to their power imbalance and a lack of genuine connection. David and Lisa, however, shone. Their answers were thoughtful, insightful, and demonstrated a deep understanding of each other's needs and desires.

Dr. John leaned forward in his chair, his puffed-up hairdo catching the studio lights. His blue eyes, usually piercing, now held a predatory glint as he listened to the couples recount their intimate experiences. The air conditioning hummed softly, a stark contrast to the heat rising in the room as the secrets of the three couples were gradually spilled.

"Ben," Dr. John began, his voice casual yet commanding, "you mentioned earlier that you’ve had encounters before your marriage. Would you care to elaborate?"

Ben straightened in his seat, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Sure thing, Doc. I’ve always been a man of appreciation for most babes. Before Sarah, there were others. Women who knew their place, who enjoyed a firm hand. One night, I brought an 18-year-old girl back to our place. Sarah was there, tied to a chair in the bedroom. She watched as I took what I wanted. Like, yeah. It was real educational for her."

Dr. John raised his eyebrows. “Wow. So, Sarah, in what way was it educational for you?”

Sarah giggled nervously, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I mean, it was a lot to take in at first. But there’s something about Ben’s dominance that just turns me on. Seeing him take control of a totally unknown woman like that … well, yes, it made me want to please him even more."

Dr. John raised an eyebrow, his scrutiny of her body getting even more int. "Interesting.” It was clear that he was evaluating the situation, although nothing clear seemed to register in his thought patterns. “And Jake, Emily, what about you? You’ve mentioned BDSM. Care to share more?"

Jake cleared his throat, his gaze flicking to Emily before returning to Dr. John. "I tried to teach Emily about it. I mean, it’s like what the Holy Bible says about what a man and a woman should be like, right? The man should be totally in control.” He gave a sideways glance at his wife – which did not seem at all loving – and she blushed furiously. “At first, she wasn’t into it. But she wanted to make me happy, so she eventually submitted," he said in a boastful tone.

Emily’s cheeks were still flushed, and her voice barely audible. "I didn’t like it at first. It felt … wrong.” The she squirmed in her most inner thoughts. “But Jake said it was the only way he’d marry me. So I did what he wanted. I let him tie me up, use me however he pleased. It wasn’t until later that I realized I could find pleasure in it too."

“And are you now happy that you submitted to your husband’s rule?” Dr. John demanded.

Emily blushed as she gave a sideways glance at her husband. Then she turned back to Dr. John and gave a fleeting smile. “Of course. I’m very happy to be submissive.”

Dr. John leaned back, his expression unreadable. He noticed that Emily had just said: “to be submissive,” but not specifically to her husband. He filed that away for later as he moved on to the last couple.

"And David, Lisa? What’s your personal dynamic like?"

David exchanged a glance with Lisa before speaking. "We’ve always been about equality. We explore things together to find out what we both like and dislike. For us, it’s not about one person dominating the other. It’s about mutual enjoyment."

Emily blushed deeply at the indirect reproach, but Dr. John kept his eyes on Lisa.

Lisa nodded, her voice steady. "We take turns. One day, David might do something new to me, and the next, maybe I’ll do something to him. It keeps things balanced, exciting."

“So, uh, do you always take turns mixing up your relationship?” Dr. John asked in a skeptical tone.

Lisa and David nodded in unison. “Yes,” Lisa affirmed. “It’s not a regular schedule, but we try to make it as even as we can.”

Dr. John’s scowl deepened, his boredom evident. "Equality. Balance. How … liberal. But tell me, does it truly satisfy? Or is it just a polite charade?"

David bristled, but Lisa placed a hand on his arm, her touch calming. "It satisfies us,” she affirmed. “We’ve built a relationship centered on trust and communication. And that’s what works for us."

"Fascinating," Dr. John murmured, his tone expressing sarcasm.

As the couples finished speaking, Dr. John sat in silence, his gaze sweeping over the room. The tension was palpable, each couple waiting for his verdict before the next break – although David and Lisa seemed more relaxed than the other two couples. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and deliberate.

"You’ve all shared your stories, your secrets. Ben and Sarah, your dynamic is more Biblical than the others, to say the least. It is the accepted traditional concept that, just as people must be submissive to God, women should be submissive to men. Jake and Emily, your relationship is built on physical submission and control, which is also very traditional, although a bit more of the hard-core belief that men have the right to beat their wives and perform other punishments if the situation calls for it. But David and Lisa, you’ve taken the modern approach of equality and wokeism. This certainly violates most religious beliefs, as well as many social and economical beliefs about gender roles.” His mouth canted slightly to the side. “We have yet to see how that philosophy works in a long-term relationship."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "There’s no doubt that relationships aren’t one-size-fits-all. What works for one couple might not work for another. The question is whether or not the choice you make is going to be a long-term or a short-term benefit to the couple.”

He raised his arms and spread them wide, as though delivering a benediction. “Ben and Sarah, your dominance and submission might seem extreme to some, but it’s clear you both find fulfillment in it. You know exactly where you stand in the relationship, and can be comfortable in your roles.”

His left arm came down to his side, but his right hand was still extended, palm upward, in a gesture that denoted uncertainty. “Jake and Emily, your journey has been one of growth and acceptance. You sound like you’re still exploring your boundaries, trying to find exactly the right fit. I’m sure you’ll get there.

Then he turned toward David and Lisa, now pointing accusingly at them.

“And David and Lisa? Well, your mutual respect is something to consider, but will it truly last? The problem with ‘equality’ is there’s always someone ‘more equal’ than the other. Just like in business, too many ‘equal partners’ eventually leads to big arguments. When you figure out who the top dog is, what’s gonna happen to your ‘perfect relationship’? You better think about that."

Small red lights flashed above all of the cameras and Dr. John heaved his bulk smoothly to his feet.

“Okay, folks, it’s time we took a little break so our sponsors can also try to make a little money.” Dr. John smiled ruefully. “We’ll be right back, and I promise you this next segment will be where the action really heats up, so don’t go away!”

 

Chapter 2

 

“Welcome back, folks! Glad to see you’re still with us,” Dr. John said with a sardonic grin, once again seated in his plush chair with his arms draped comfortably over the wide arms. “Now, let’s really get this show on the road!”

The stage lights dimmed to half strength, casting a softer glow over the couples as Dr. John rose from his chair.

“Okay, folks, as you know, the final round is a role-playing exercise where the couples are given a scenario. Tonight, another man is trying to make a move on the wife. How would each partner react? We’ll get to it right after this message from a few of our sponsors.”

As the lights dimmed, Ben and Sarah and Jake and Emily huddled together as though discussing how the next segment of the show would play out. The men did most of the talking. David and Lisa sat quietly, their hands once more joined.

As the lights came back up Dr. John adjusted his tailored suit, the fabric straining slightly over his heavy frame, and strode towards the first couple with a confident smirk. Ben and Sarah sat side by side but not touching, their body language speaking volumes. Ben’s posture was relaxed, almost indifferent, while Sarah’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes darting between her husband and the approaching figure.

“Let’s see how you two handle a little … competition,” Dr. John said, his voice laced with a casual authority that bordered on condescension. He pulled up a chair beside Sarah, his presence looming large. Without hesitation, he reached out and placed a hand on her thigh, his touch firm but not overtly aggressive. Sarah flinched slightly, her breath catching, but she didn’t pull away.

“So, how does it feel to be the one watching, Ben, even if you’re not tied up?”

The audience gave an appreciative chuckle at his little joke.

Ben glanced at Dr. John’s hand, then back at his wife. “I told her we need that house” he said, shrugging. “If it’s just a little touchy-feely, it’s no big deal. You already know I’ve shared women before.” His tone was matter-of-fact, trying to sound bored.

Sarah’s eyes flicked to Ben, making certain she had his permission. Finding it, she nodded almost imperceptibly. Dr. John took this as an invitation, his fingers stroking her thigh more sensuously, his touch deliberate and probing. Sarah’s breath quickened, her body tensing under his hand, but she remained still, submitting to Ben’s evident will.

Dr. John leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his blue eyes piercing. Sarah bit her lip, her cheeks flushing, but she didn’t say a word. Ben watched with detached interest, as if observing a science experiment rather than his wife being intimately touched by another man.

With a huge smirk, Dr. John patted Sarah’s leg possessively and then stood up.

Moving on, Dr. John turned his attention to Jake and Emily, who sat a few feet away. Jake’s jaw was clenched, his body rigid with tension, while Emily sat hunched, her hands fidgeting nervously. Dr. John pulled the chair over, this time sitting closer to Emily than he had to Sarah. He placed a hand on her knee, his touch lighter but no less intrusive.

“How does that make you feel, Jake?”

Jake’s eyes narrowed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. “Yeah, I get it. But don’t get any fresher with her,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Even if we do want that house.”

Emily shrank back, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but there was a strange undercurrent to her reaction, a deepening of her chest as she exhaled, as if she were surrendering to something beyond her control. Dr. John smirked, his hand lingering on her knee. He knew that she was feeling his power, like a little bird mesmerized by a cobra. “Relax, Jake,” he said, his tone mocking. “It’s just a little touch, and she’s not even tied up.”

Again the audience chuckled at his obvious BDSM reference, but Jake’s face darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Without another word, he stood abruptly and stormed off the stage, his exit leaving a palpable tension in the air.

Dr. John laughed, a high-pitched squeaking sound, and turned his full attention to Emily. “Looks like you’re all mine now,” he said in a joking tone, but his hand moved higher up her thigh.

Emily’s eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her body trembled as she clearly embraced her submission, her breath coming in deeper, more ragged gasps.

Dr. John knew that if he touched her in her most intimate place – and she would let him, he had no doubt – that she would cum on the spot. He was tempted, but unfortunately he couldn’t do that on national television. Still, he gave her a possessive look before removing his hand.

With a satisfied smile Dr. John heaved his bulk up and moved the chair once again to approach David and Lisa, who both sat calmly, their hands intertwined. David’s expression was neutral, his gaze steady, while Lisa’s eyes were fixed on Dr. John, her mouth set in a hard line and her eyes blazing.

Dr. John pulled up the chair beside Lisa, his presence less imposing here, as if he sensed the strength of their bond.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone almost polite, although there was an underlying challenge in his words.

David turned to Lisa, his voice calm and respectful. “Do you want him to touch you?”

Lisa’s eyes met David’s, her expression resolute. “No,” she said firmly.

David nodded, his gaze never leaving his wife’s. “She said no,” he told Dr. John, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re done here.”

Dr. John’s smirk faltered, his ego bruised by their unwavering unity. He stood with a huff, his chair scraping against the floor as he returned to his plush seat, his fiery red hair seeming to glow with frustration.

As the exercise concluded, the couples – minus Jake – remained on stage, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotions. Ben and Sarah sat in silence, their dynamic unchanged but perhaps deepened by the encounter. Jake suddenly stalked back onto the stage, his face still flushed with anger, while Emily sat quietly, her body language an obvious combination of shame and arousal. David and Lisa again held hands, their connection stronger than ever, a silent testament to their mutual respect.

“Okay, folks, we’re gonna take another break, and then we’ll be back for the winners … and losers.”

Dr. John watched the serene couple from his chair, his expression unreadable. For the first time, he seemed less like a manipulator and more like an observer, his glowering eyes wondering about what he’d just witnessed, which happened very rarely on his show. This last couple, with their vastly different dynamics, had challenged the premise of the show, making him wonder why they had bothered to sign up. Maybe they were desperate to win that house – as if there was a chance in hell of that happening now.

As the red light flashed on the camera for the final segment, Dr. John stood, his suit creaking as he moved. He looked at David and Lisa, who simply looked at him as if they knew what was coming.

Dr. John walked to the center of the room, his Patek Philippe Grand Complications 18kt rose gold watch glinting under the lights.

"Here it is for tonight, all you wonderful people in the audience and out there in TV land! And after a very little bit of thought, I’ve decided that third place goes to a couple of real losers … David and Lisa. You’ll never make it bigly in this country with your wimpy attitudes. But your one free session with me could probably help you. I could make your marriage great instead of the disaster it’s doomed to be!"

The room erupted in a cacophony of laughter and applause. David and Lisa stiffened at the insult, their faces stoic in spite of their dismay, both at the nasty words and the knowledge that their remote chance to win a home they desperately wanted had completely disappeared. However, it was obvious from their expressions that even a house had not been worth it to them to lower their personal values.

Dr. John held his arms up toward the audience in triumph. Without a word, David and Lisa stood and, still holding hands, walked off the set with heads held high.

“Yeah, a coupla real losers,” Dr. John repeated. “Hey, anybody out there in the audience wanna take their place in a counseling session?”

Many hands shot into the air with a few shouts of enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I was just kidding,” he claimed. “Volunteer for the show and you’ll get the real deal.”

There were a few groans, but nobody actually protested.

“Okay, now for number two.” He waved his hands back and forth in front of his paunch. “We got some real potential here with this couple, but they need some of my private counseling big time. They got the American family values down with the man in charge, but need a little work on respect for those who really know what’s going on. So, Jake and Emily, your check will be mailed to you, and don’t forget to take up the offer of a week of counseling. I can do great things for you, great things.”

Jake nodded with a frown, but Emily’s face positively glowed as she nodded several times.

John turned back to the audience as Jake and Emily walked off the stage to a smattering of applause. “After all, you know my slogan, right?” He raised a hand in the air like a conductor cuing the orchestra: “Only I can make your marriage better!” As he said it, the crowd simultaneously roared: “Only you can make our marriage better!”

“And now for our weekly winners!” Dr. John enthused. “Ben and Sarah, congratulations!”

The audience exploded in applause and wild cheers for the glowing couple.

“You’re invited back to the playoffs for this month, with a chance to go all the way. On your way out today, don’t forget to collect your winner’s check and make an appointment for your first counselling session next week.”

Jake walked over and shook his hand, while Sarah put her hand on his other arm and kissed him on the cheek. The audience applauded once again.

“And all you wonderful people out there, you great people watching, tune in next week for another exciting episode of ”Marriage Rescue” with yours truly! And remember I got a seminar coming up next month you can all attend for just three hundred bucks per couple!”

The audience applauded wildly once again.

“And always remember,” Dr. John shouted the words as the audience simultaneously roared once again: “Only you can make our marriage better!”

 

 

Chapter 3

 

A couple of days after the show, Emily found herself standing outside Dr. John’s office, her heart pounding in her chest. The opulent building, with its gleaming marble floors and hushed atmosphere radiating a calm, purposeful ambiance, felt like a world apart from the chaos of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the strap of her handbag. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the turmoil any longer. She needed answers, clarity – or perhaps she was just drawn to the powerful man who had become an inescapable presence in her mind.

Dr. John’s secretary, a stern woman with a sharp gaze, looked up as Emily approached the desk. “Do you have an appointment, Miss?” she asked, her tone cool and professional.

“No,” Emily replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I … I just need to speak with Dr. John. It’s important. Please tell him it’s Emily from the show.”

The secretary’s eyebrows arched slightly, but she picked up the phone without hesitation. “Dr. Betrug, there’s a Miss Emily from the show here to see you. She says it’s important.” A pause, then a nod. “Yes, sir. Right away.” She hung up the phone and gestured toward the door. “He’ll see you right away.”

Emily’s palms were sweaty as she knocked on the heavy oak door. “Come in,” Dr. John’s voice called out. She pushed the door open, her eyes immediately drawn to the man sitting behind the massive desk. The fingers of one of his hands were lightly drumming on the desk, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through her. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he regarded her.

“Emily,” he said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. “What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I … I needed to talk to you, Dr. John. About the other night.”

Dr. John’s smirk widened. “Oh? And what about it? You seemed to enjoy yourself quite thoroughly.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I … I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

He stood, his large frame filling the space between them. “You’re sorry? Is that what you’re pretending this is about? Apologies?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re not here to apologize, Emily. You’re here because you’re conflicted. Torn between what you want and what you think you should want.”

Her breath quickened as he circled around her, his words striking a chord deep within her. “I … I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “My parents … my minister … they have always told me how I should behave.”

Dr. John stopped in front of her, his eyes locking onto hers. “Let me help you figure it out,” he said, his tone low and seductive. “But first, you need to trust me. Completely.”

Before she could respond, he took her hand and led her to the large patient couch in the corner of the room. The air felt heavy, charged with unspoken desires and unspoken rules. She sat down, her heart racing as he stood before her, his gaze intense.

“And how did your parents and your minister tell you you should behave?”

She wrung her hands in her lap, refusing to look at him. Her voice was almost inaudible. “They told me I should … I should obey my betters. Especially men, who God put over we weak women to be our masters.”

“I see. Anthing else?”

Emily blushed and tried to strangle her own hands. “They told me I should especially obey powerful men, because God allowed them to be powerful, so they must know what’s best for others.”

Dr. John nodded in triumph. It was just as he had thought.

“Stand up,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

Emily obeyed, her movements slow and hesitant. Dr. John stepped closer, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Your parents were right, Emily. And your minister, well, he certainly knows what God wants from His creatures here on Earth, doesn’t he?”

Emily nodded meekly, still not looking at his face.

“Good. You’re very beautiful, Emily. But beauty isn’t enough. I need to see your willingness. Your submission. Are you ready for that?”

Without waiting for her reply he touched Emily’s cheek, then lifted her head to look her in the eye. Her breath caught in her throat as he began to unbutton her blouse, his touch heavy and purposeful. She didn’t resist, her body responding to his dominance despite her conflicted thoughts. With each button undone, she felt a part of her resistance slip away. When her blouse was totally unbuttoned he stepped back.

“Now strip for me,” he commanded imperiously. “Show me what you’re willing to give me.”

Emily’s hands shook as she slid her blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and slowly pulled it down, stepping out of it with a quiet grace. Her bra and panties were all that remained, and she stood before him, vulnerable yet hesitant. As he glared at her she sighed and removed everything.

He licked his lips at the sight of her perfect body: large breasts that stood up proudly, a waistline that went in and then tapered out to full but not huge hips, and slender, perfectly shaped legs. She was indeed a beauty, and he was eager to enjoy her … but only on his terms.

“Good. Now, on your knees,” he ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

She knelt before him, her head bowed. “Please,” she whispered, her voice now thick with need, feeling the power radiate from him just as she had been told it would. “Use me. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“I will. Unzip my pants and suck me.”

She immediately obeyed, taking him fully into her mouth without any preliminaries, sucking him steadily just as Jake liked it.

Dr. John was not happy with her basic technique, but his lips curved into a satisfied smile at her obedience. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand tangling in her hair as he thrust hard into her several times, finally satisfied that he made her choke. Then he pulled her to her feet. He led her to the couch and pushed her down onto it, her body flush against the soft leather. “Stay still,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

He moved swiftly, producing several lengths of silk rope from a drawer in his desk. Emily watched, her breath shallow, as he tied her wrists to the arms of the couch and then her legs, securing her in place. Her heart pounded in anticipation, her body thrumming with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “And I intend to make that very clear.”

From another drawer, he retrieved a flogger, its leather strands hanging heavily in his hand. Emily’s eyes widened as he raised it, her body tensing in anticipation of the first strike.

“I want Jake to see my power over you,” he declared, his voice echoing in the quiet room. “To know that you’re mine to control, to use as I see fit.”

The flogger whistled through the air, the strands biting into her alabaster skin with a sharp sting, leaving a a stark red mark. Emily gasped, her body arching against the restraints as the pain blossomed across her stomach, her breasts, and then her thighs. Dr. John moved methodically, each strike calculated to elicit a response, to push her further into submission.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice laced with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “More.”

He obliged, the flogger falling again and again, the rhythm steady and relentless. Her skin flushed, marked with red welts that contrasted sharply against her pale flesh. She writhed beneath his touch when he stroked her, tracing the line of the flogger’s strands, her body caught between agony and ecstasy, her mind clouded with a haze of desire.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice harsh as he leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Be … belong to?” she croaked in confusion.

“Who do you belong to!” he shouted, lash her breasts furiously.

She shook her head. “But … Jake …”

Dr. John lashed her with all of his strength, covering her body in such stinging pain it left her writing and gasping for air.

“WHO!”

“YOU!” she shouted in agony. Then, as his strikes ceased, she gained more control over her voice. “You,” she panted, her voice tremulous. “I belong to you.”

Dr. John’s lips curved into a cruel smile as he dropped the flogger, his hands moving to her breasts. He cupped them roughly, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, already taught and sensitive from the ordeal. “Such beautiful tits,” he murmured, his voice dripping with lust. “I’ve wanted to mark them since the moment I saw them.”

Before she could respond, he leaned over and lowered his head, his teeth sinking into her flesh with a sharp bite. Emily cried out, her body bucking against the restraints as he sucked and nipped at her breasts, his mouth leaving dark bruises in its wake.

“Now!” she screamed, her voice desperate as her body teetered on the edge of release.

Dr. John growled and he loosed the slip knots that bound her legs. He pulled her butt to the edge of the couch, his hands spreading her knees as he positioned himself between her legs. He thrust into her without warning, his hardness filling her completely. Emily moaned, her head falling back as he began to move, his strokes deep and punishing.

He fucked her with a ferocity that left her once again breathless, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her again and again. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he gave her no quarter, his focus solely on his own pleasure.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice gruff as he leaned over her, his breath ragged. “Say that I own you.”

“You own me,” she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies colliding. “I’m yours, Dr. John.”

His thrusts quickened, his control slipping as he neared his own climax. “That’s right,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine, Emily. Mine to use, to control, to fuck whenever I want.”

With a final, brutal thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her. Emily cried out, her body convulsing as her own orgasm ripped through her, torrents of pleasure crashing over her in burning waves of shame beneath the rapture.

Dr. John collapsed onto her for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps, before pulling out and standing. He untied her wrists, his movements brusque as he stepped back, his expression unreadable. Then he zipped himself back up.

Emily sat up, her body sore and marked, but her mind strangely clear. She reached for her clothes, her hands trembling as she began to dress.

Dr. John watched her, his arms crossed over his chest. When she was fully clothed, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a stack of bills, tossing them onto the couch beside her. “For your trouble,” he said, his tone dismissive.

She looked at the money, her stomach churning. “I … I don’t want your money, Dr. John” she said, her voice small and humble. “I wanted to experience your power. To be sure of what I wanted.”

He smirked. “Okay. But if what you want is to join my group of admirers, to share in my wealth and power, then you’d better make up your mind to be even more submissive next time. And maybe you should get rid of that loser husband of yours.”

Emily turned to leave.

“Oh, and be back here next week. Same time.”

She did not turn to acknowledge him. After a pregnant pause, Emily meekly walked out of his office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. Dr. John watched her go, a faint smile playing on his lips. This game was far from over, and he intended to win. He was pretty certain complete victory would come quickly.

 

Chapter 4

 

Alan Geur leaned back in his plush leather chair, steepling his fingers as he listened intently to Fred Pettus’s detailed report. The investigator’s voice filled the subtly lit study, his words painting a vivid picture of the man they were discussing. Outside, the evening sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn of Alan’s extensive estate but, inside, the dimly lit room was being further darkened by Winston’s description of his subject.

Alan Geur was not the richest man in America, although he had ambitions that went beyond even that. He was currently the second-richest man in America with a gross worth of nearly $360 billion. He primarily owned technological businesses, especially broadcast and social media, telecommunications, satellite communications, computer and software corporations, and AI technology development. His goal was to become the richest man in the world.

Alan wanted to find a man he could propose for public office – initially the governorship of the candidate’s state, but after that the presidency – in order to indirectly give him the power to cancel the contracts of his competitors and have them awarded to him, as well as eliminating as much of the government oversight and regulation of those industries as possible to allow him to operate in any way that would make him the most profit. He had tasked his most efficient private investigator to find such a person so that Alan could convince him to run for public office, fully financed and helped by himself and his many corporations. He had listed a number of requirements for the right candidate, and Fred – a former cop who had become a private investigator after he had been passed over for promotion twice in favor of better connected officers – was meticulous in following orders and somehow finding bits of information that others might miss.

Fred referred to a few notes from the detailed dossier he had compiled on his best candidate. “So, Dr. John Betrug,” Fred began in a matter-of-fact voice, “is 45 years old, a mildly attractive Caucasian, and a man of considerable influence in the South, particularly among the demographics you’re interested in, Mr. Geur. His reality TV show, ”Marriage Rescue”, has made him a household name in half a dozen states. His slogan, ‘Only I can make your marriage great again!’ resonates deeply with lower-income, less-educated white couples. They see him as a savior, someone who understands their struggles and offers solutions.”

Alan nodded, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “That demographic means about 75% of Americans, right?”

“Yes,” Fred replied, flipping through the dossier on his lap. “Although, in his home state, the percentage is even higher. His audience is fiercely loyal, and his advice – whether it’s about finances, relationships, or personal growth – is taken as gospel, no matter how ridiculous it may be. They trust him implicitly.”

Alan drummed his fingers on the desk, his mind racing. “What’s the story on his background?”

Fred cleared his throat, his gaze steady. “John Betrug was born into wealth. His grandfather was an immigrant, a self-made multi-millionaire who instilled in his son a sense of entitlement and racial superiority. John’s father increased the business but died when John was a senior in high school. John inherited nearly four-hundred million dollars, which he used to fund his education and business ventures. He holds online degrees in finance and business management, though his success isn’t rooted in legitimate expertise.”

Alan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So he’s very intelligent and well-educated, is he?”

Fred almost snorted. “Hardly. Both of those ‘online degrees’ were from paper factories.” At a look from his employer, Fred explained. “A person gives the ‘college’ money and they get a degree in return. All classes are online, but no one makes sure you even paid attention, let alone did any real studying.”

Alan frowned. “With his father’s wealth, couldn’t he have paid some known college to get in?”

“He tried,” Fred admitted. “But his grades were too low, and he evidently didn’t want to attend classes, so, no.”

Alan gave a little ‘humph’. “So, then, let me guess,” Alan said, a wry smile playing on his lips. “His real talent lies in manipulation and exploitation.”

Fred nodded. “Exactly. His businesses – a string of failed ventures, by the way – were built on deceiving subcontractors and exploiting partners, as well as manipulating the value of his properties and cheating on his income taxes.” Fred did not add ‘Just like most of you billionaires do,’ which he knew Geur did. “He’s a master at playing the system, using loopholes and charm to get what he wants. His TV show is just another platform for him to expand his influence.”

“He’s that bad of a businessman?” Alan asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Fred shrugged. “Evidently. However, rumor also insists a lot of the businesses went bankrupt because he kept siphoning off funds, mostly to pay for expensive parties and very expensive ladies.”

“Hmm. Sounds like exactly the type of candidate I’m looking for. Not very intelligent, but excellent at manipulation and branding. Prefers to do things the easy way rather than putting in the hard work.” He thought for a moment. “And that bit about expensive parties and expensive ladies…. Maybe we can use that.” Alan leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “And the nitty-gritty on his personal life? Any other skeletons in the closet?”

Fred hesitated while checking his notes, then continued. “He’s been divorced three times and is on wife number four, with a total of six kids. Rumors suggest wife number three left him after discovering his promiscuous activities, even though he got her pregnant while still married to number two. He’s also known for his domineering personality, both on and off the screen. His relationships with couples on the show often involve him asserting control and testing boundaries. It’s a pattern.”

Alan nodded approvingly. “Go on.”

“When his last business failed, John Betrug paid an online university $150,000 to give him an ‘honorary’ Ph.D. in psychology and marriage counseling, hence the ‘Dr. John’ moniker. He started a talk radio show about marriage and finance. However, he only does actual ‘counseling’ for select couples who are very enthralled by his teachings, mostly those that have good looking wives. He parlayed his radio success to jump into the ‘reality TV show’ craze, telling a local TV station he had been a marriage counselor as well as a great businessman, and pitched them on the idea of a show that would combine financial and marital advice. It would be very cheap to produce, and the station agreed to try it.”

“So he’s actually been a success at that?”

“Not initially,” Fred explained. “The show struggled for five years until Dr. John started to become more disdainful of the ‘loser’ couples on his show and praise the couples that fit the mentality of white Christians, particularly in the mold of the People of Praise and the Evangelical Christians, although there are many white Christian groups of that nature in the ‘Bible Belt’ states. The show started to take off when Dr. John began to speak their thoughts out loud, mostly about white superiority and how men should follow the Biblical tenets of being the dominant member of the household while women should be submissive and stick to household roles He has built a growing, dedicated cult of followers who are attracted by his three basic tenets: the white race is supreme and must procreate to keep up with the minorities, men must reign supreme in the household, and the theory that rich people will take care of the working class for the benefit of all is true, so everyone must know their place in life and be faithful to it. Sort of like the way the old monarchies and churches used to work hand-in-glove to keep the masses subjugated to their rule. Using that same formula, Dr. John eventually upgraded from a local TV station to a network affiliate that covers most of the Southern states, and he often invites the most zealous followers to his mansion for what are rumored to be orgies.”

“Hah!” Alan exclaimed. “So a degenerate as well.” He drummed his fingers on the side of his leather upholstered chair. “He can’t be making all that money from a regional TV show,” Alan mused. “Does he have any side hustles?”

Fred nodded. “He also does seminars and rallies, charging his poor followers a ton of money to attend them and even more for ‘private counseling’. Leveraging off of his recent income he’s jumped back into the real estate market, mostly hotels and business centers, but also a few condo complexes. He’s stretched pretty thin on his credit lines, but he’s evidently still skimming off the top to maintain his pretty lavish lifestyle.”

Alan leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he listened to Fred recount the opportunistic rise of John Betrug. The sun was hazily filtering its fading light across his oak-paneled office, the late afternoon light barely making it through the ultra-expensive blinds. Although every single item in the estate was clearly expensive, everything from the decor to the landscaping was done in an efficient, tasteful manner. Nothing inside of the buildings was ostentatious. Outside, the vast estate was also fastidious and silent, a testimony to his meticulously curated domain. Fred’s voice, clear and emotionless, painted a cynical picture of Betrug’s transformation from a failed businessman to a media mogul and cult leader. Alan’s blue eyes narrowed, his mind already dissecting the information and weighing its potential.

“So, on paper he’s worth over seven hundred million now?” Alan asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “And this cult of his, it’s still growing?”

Fred nodded, his expression bland. “Quite rapidly. The seminars, the private counseling sessions – he’s raking it in, but it’s going out just as fast. And the TV show? People eat it up. Especially the white Christian crowd. They see him as a savior.” Fred smirked. “In some cases quite literally.”

Alan steepled his fingers, his gaze drifting to the treeline still visible through the window. “Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting. Betrug’s built an actual cult, huh? But he’s only using it to line his pockets, not to move on to bigger and better things?”

Fred shifted in his seat, uncomfortable in these opulent surroundings in spite of the fact that he had been doing investigations into Alan Geur’s competitors and potential foils – such as John Betrug – for many years. ”He doesn’t seem to be much interested in political power, if that’s what you were hoping for. He’s much more fixated on being a social gadfly, promoting his carefully constructed brand, and enjoying the perqs of his cult followers.”

Alan suddenly leaned forward in his chair. “And you clearly don’t like him. Do you think that in some way he might turn out to be a dangerous lapdog who might try to bite his master’s hand?”