Berserker's Rage by Elle Boon

boy child, if not she would give him much pleasure, after he trained her.
    A knock sounded on his door. “Enter,” he said softly.
    His wife walked in. Her hair was left in loose waves down to her lower back. Her makeup was flawless, like everything else about her. Her only flaw had been her inability to give him a child.
    “Good afternoon, sir. Have you need of me?” The dulcet tone of his woman answered.
    He looked at the book that kept all his wives names catalogued. He only had eighteen, but they could get mixed up. Carol. Her name was Carol. “Ah, Carol, thank you for coming. Please come around the desk.” He turned in his seat, letting her see the erection tenting his slacks. His wife’s eyes rounded. They never knew how he was going to take them, and he reveled in their anxiety. Today he didn’t plan to play with her too much. His cock jerked at the thought. “On your knees, now.”
    She did so without a word. He didn’t need to tell her what to do next. She crawled over to him, undoing his belt then his pants. His cock was in her tiny little hand and then her hot mouth in seconds. John sighed, tangling his hand in her hair. He pulled her forward roughly, hitting the back of her throat, fucking her mouth without a care for her comfort, and she let him. Her eyes sparkled up at him. He almost felt bad that he was going to snuff her life out. Not enough to forego his plans. She was thirty-two and had been his wife for over ten years. If she was going to have a baby, she’d have already gotten pregnant.
    Carol hollowed out her cheeks and brought her hands up to cup him. Oh yes, he’d trained her well, and he’d train his next wife better. His balls drew up and he held her to him, knowing she wasn’t able to breathe properly. He was what some would call a sadist.
    He was a prophet.
    He was their god.
    His orgasm spurted down her throat and she swallowed like a greedy little bitch, but he didn’t call her that. He ran his hand over her head, letting her lick him clean. He’d need to send her back happy and fulfilled. No need to raise suspicion amongst the other wives when she ended up dead. Such a shame really. He hadn’t had to kill off one of his women in a long time. At sixty-five he was still in his prime thanks to modern science, and the help of some of the best cosmetic surgeons in the world.
    “Zip me back up and go lie on the couch.”
    She obeyed like a good little woman, too bad she couldn’t reproduce like one. He shook his head sadly. Getting her off didn’t take him but a few minutes. He was a master at manipulating women’s bodies, when he wanted to. He used sex as another weapon, another way to control his followers. He spoke few words of devotion to wife number twelve before sending her out the door, a smile of bliss on her face.
    His community was below the town of Felicia, California. He laughed at the irony of the name, and his wayward child and her mother. She’d soon be brought into the fold. The world thought the population of his little town was only two, when in all actuality, their numbers were in the hundreds and growing closer to a thousand. John had forged his little world with his own blood and sweat when he’d been a boy at his father’s feet, digging like all the other young men, creating a world beneath the ground. His dearly departed dad had thought the world was going to end and set out to secure a livable place for their followers. John was only one of a select few that had been chosen to follow, and follow he had. The dozens of men and women who believed everything Big John had said would’ve followed him like little lambs to the slaughter. Just like John’s mother had.
    He shook his head at the naiveté of women across the world. Show them a little kindness, and they were on their knees, doing anything you told them. His dick got hard thinking of all the dirty, nasty things he’d had his wives do to him. He’d taken his father’s world and made it his own. Big