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“Take me, Benito…fuck me…fuck my ass. Take me.”
He slid into me easily and started to thrust in and out. Not long afterward, he was dumping a load of cum deep into my bowels. I pretended to be aroused the whole time, but it was all an act.
As we lay on the bed to catch our breath, I checked the clock. Less than a half hour since I arrived. I decided to slow it down a little, or he might catch on that I wanted out of there as fast as possible. This was a balancing act. I wanted to get out of there quickly, but not so quickly that he felt offended. We lay on the bed and talked for while. I hugged a pillow to feel some comfort while I asked him all about his real estate empire. He liked sounding like a big shot. Then I excused myself and tip toed to the restroom to clean up. Intentionally, I stayed in there for almost fifteen more minutes. When I emerged he was still laying in bed, probably wondering if there was a round two coming his way.
I walked gingerly toward my clothes, “I can’t believe how sore I am,” I lied. “You are big, and boy, you sure now how to fuck a girl.”
“Oh, you’re leaving?”
I didn’t answer, as if I didn’t hear. I told him again, as I was getting dressed, that I was sore, and in fact, hadn’t been feeling a hundred percent all day. Benito lay on the bed and watched my every move, his eyes moving up and down my body. It was like he was scanning me to memory. I had fulfilled my assignment; that’s all I cared about. And the Oscar goes to…
I was confident that Benito wouldn’t complain to Jack about my overall willingness, or it would make Benito himself look feeble. I grabbed my purse, and Benito held my hand as I slipped on my shoes. He actually was a polite guy. Leading me out of the bedroom toward the front door, he gave me a goodbye hug, then he let something slip, “That’s the best wager I ever played in a card game.”
I paused for a minute, perplexed, and then asked for clarification, “What card game?”
Benito must have realized he spoke out of turn and tried to brush off his comment. I was thinking: wait a minute, wait a minute. The weirdness started the night of the poker game. The night Jack couldn’t sleep. He’s been odd ever since. Fuck. FUCK!! Jack lost me on a bet that night. Is that possible? Is that WHY he sent me here? My mind was racing, but I somehow managed to remain composed. I had to verify. I had to make sure. Worthy of another Oscar nod, I pretended I knew all along.
“Oh the bet? Yeah, Jack told me that he lost me in a card game that night.” I rolled my eyes for extra drama.
“So, he did tell you, oh good.”
Benito’s words rang in my ears over and over. My hunch was right: Jack, my adorable loving husband and dominant, had sent me here after losing a bet. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. But I held it together long enough to say goodbye and walk out of there.
Benito watched as I walked down the hallway toward the elevator. I got on it, still numb, and pressed the button for a random floor. I got off, and walked down to the very end of the hallway where I opened the fire-hazard door to the emergency stairwell. I sat on the cold hard cement floor of the stairs. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I cried. I cried and cried. For the first and only time in my entire life, I felt like a true whore.
I looked down at my rings while I sat there. On my left hand, I wore my wedding band, and my engagement ring. On my right hand I wore a ring that was equally important. It was an eternity band that was my symbolic collar. I remembered the night Jack had given it to me, well before our wedding. It was the night that I officially became his submissive. We talked for hours about what it meant. We talked about the trust we had, and how the kinky bdsm games we were planning on playing could never happen without that kind of trust. We talked about safewords, and limits, and release. We agreed that, if the D/s caused issues, we’d end it, but still remain husband and wife.
When I was able to compose myself, I walked the remaining flights to our floor and entered our condo.
Jack was waiting and looked at me. I walked immediately past him toward our bedroom. I needed a shower, and I could not wait to get out of the dress that reminded me of the night that went horribly wrong. A night that should NEVER have taken place.
“You fucking ASSHOLE. A poker bet? Really Jack?? You piece of shit, fucking PRICK!”
The words were sinking in. He said nothing in return, still in shock. I had never spoken to him like that before. He just stood there staring at me. I walked into our closet and grabbed my bathrobe. I turned around, and he was right behind me. Finally, he spoke:
“I’m sorry Chloe,” he said, trying to approach me to give me a hug.
“Fuck off Jack. Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I am so sorry Chloe,” he said one more time.
Then I slipped the eternity ring off my finger. I threw it at him, and just to make it clear, I told him what it meant: “Here’s your bullshit collar back. Consider this my release as your submissive. You don’t own me anymore!”
Then I walked into our bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind me. Through the door I spoke loudly:
“I am taking a shower to wash the two pricks off of my skin. If you think you have any chance of sharing our matrimonial bed tonight, think again.”
I turned on the shower. Removing my robe, I let the water wash away my tears and the remnants of a man I will never let touch me again. I scrubbed every inch of my skin. Washing my hair too, I stood with my face to the steady stream of water. I could not believe Jack would bet me in a card game. The more I thought of it, the more I felt sick inside. What else did Jack forget to tell me? Omissions are lies in disguise.
I wasn’t sure how long I was in the shower. Could it have been a whole hour? I found my favorite night gown and got into bed with wet hair. Hugging multiple pillows, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The asshole slept on the couch.
Chapter 15. Never Easy
Jack’s View:
The next day we barely spoke.
The day after that we returned to work and were civil toward each other. I did as much housework as I could. Every time I used a glass, I placed it right in the dishwasher. The day after that I wrote her a letter of apology.
I debated what was more stupid: using Chloe as a wager in cards, or not telling her the truth afterward. Both were stupid, but I would debate in my mind which was more stupid.
Sex was out of the question for the first week. Then it trickled back in. I was very glad to sleep in our bed again, after spending the first few nights on the couch.
I also reflected back on the years where I learned about the lifestyle. While I had started having sex in high school, it was not until I moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA that I dabbled in bdsm. A few of the girls I was seeing had kinky tastes, and I happily experimented with spankings, light bondage, and control. I would take the girls shopping, and we’d try out all sorts of new toys. My interest in the lifestyle was growing, and I was lucky enough to meet a few older couples who lived it. That opened up new experiences, as I got to attend private parties where everything from whippings to public humiliation occurred. After graduation, I stayed in L.A. for the first three years of my career. I joined a bdsm club called ‘Club Insomnia,’ and my exposure to all things bdsm really blossomed. I was single during much of that time, which gave me unprecedented access to willing submissives, some my age, some older. As well, two of the older male Doms became mentors of sorts, and helped explain a lot.
During that period, I also fell in love, at least twice. At the start of those relationships, there were high expectations on both parts, but neither worked out. Cheryl was lovely, and somewhat kinky, but over time I found myself less and less energized. We were comfortable, but she didn’t inspire and challenge me the way that Chloe does. Fiona was a total pain slut, and her willingness to do almost anything in the bedroom was initially appealing, but we didn’t see the world the same way. I didn’t love her companionship when it came to spending time together, say during a long car trip. So, while we got off to a promising s
tart, the connection fizzed out.
When I moved back to San Francisco, Chloe came into my life serendipitously. I met her at a Halloween party. She wore a French Maid’s outfit, which I interpreted as a cry for attention from her secret submissive side. I wasn’t wrong. I still remember our very first conversation that night. We talked about the latest Dave Matthews CD and argued about whether it was as good as his early stuff. At the end of the night, we exchanged email addresses, and within a week I had the biggest crush of my life. I couldn’t get enough of Chloe. We fell madly in love, all the while pushing the boundaries of Chloe’s sexuality. When a couple have undying trust, anything is possible.
That is, until I screwed it up. Well, although I may have lost her as my submissive, I did not lose her as my wife. For that, I was eternally grateful.
