Obediently Ever After Read online

  The expression on her face indicated she wasn't sure. “I know, Kevin. Better than you do,” she bluffed.

  "We'll see, my dear. We'll see. Get on your back. Legs wide apart. I want to see you fuck yourself like the little whore you are."

  Erin plunged her fingers into her pussy. Her thighs were slick with her own liquids. Her sex lips were puffy and begging attention. Her nipples were swollen like tiny cherries. There was no room for reticence now. Erin needed fucking and if her hand was the only way, than that's what she'd do.

  "Lift your ass off the floor,” he increased her degradation. “Fuck the air."

  "Yes,” she cried, flicking her clit. “Omigod, yes. So good.” She was like a woman possessed. Her body spasming all over, her eyes lost to some alternate source of light, a universe he couldn't touch, for all his power over her.

  Christ, it was like with Sophia again. How did these women manage to outwit him-escaping his clutches at the very moment of his greatest victory? At the club it seemed he could keep the bitches earthbound, but then he never looked too closely. He didn't care enough about them, didn't know them. And certainly he didn't want to share in anything they might be feeling.

  All this begged the question. What if holding back and keeping the sanctity of their own soul was something all women could do? What if their submission was only done on their own terms for their pleasure?

  If so, than what did it mean that Sophia had offered herself to him? Was she fucking with his head? She'd gone a long way if that was the case. Hell, the woman had given up her entire life. Not the sort of thing you did on a lark.

  Shit. He was thinking of her again. This was exactly what he'd come here to avoid. Tearing at his clothes, he got himself naked, plunging between the legs of Erin Wyatt.

  She moaned in passion, orgasming at the first contact of his cock with her pussy. Three more times she came as he slammed himself in and out working to a mind-rocking climax of his own.

  "Bitch,” he roared as he got his rocks off. “Fucking god damned bitch."

  But who was the bitch he was angry at, really? Erin Wyatt or Sophia La Mark Caine? Then again, there was a third possibility. The bitch might well be nature. With her cruel, feckless laws and her endless proclivity for fucking with the lives of mortals.

  His semen pumped on and on, filling her womb. Erin the slave accepted it all, as if it were her husband's or a god's. It didn't matter. He had a cock. Cocks ruled. That was the natural order. Domination. Pain. Control.

  Not love. Love was foolish, illusory, weak.

  Sophia could rot in hell, as far as he was concerned, before he ever acknowledged her again. She'd made her choice, and nothing would alter it. He would never see her, nor would anyone in the outside world.

  It was then that it hit him. Sophia had not just given up her freedom, she had surrendered her right to see her own children. The realization was like a fist slamming into his heart. There was no bigger sacrifice a woman could make. Why would she do it? It wasn't comprehensible. It made no sense.

  And yet it was real. And there was only one thing to do about it.

  Lying there on top of another man's wife, he made the determination. He must see Sophia again. He must see her at the club, watch her dance and see her serve. He must see her and try to understand. What was it that drove her? What this thing that looked stronger and braver on her part than anything he'd seen in his life?

  It was a frightening prospect to stare down so much emotion. But it was one he could not avoid. The price for not doing so, quite simply could be his own soul.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kevin couldn't bring himself to fuck her.

  "Would you like to beat me instead?” The little dark haired slave asked. “Most guys get turned on by that."

  Her name was Raven and she was lying under him naked. She had rings in her nipples which she liked men to tug on them while they were shoving their cocks in her willing hole. She was smoking hot on stage, especially when she played with that gorgeous black hair, swinging it across her back as she undulated her tight, tattooed ass.

  The tattoo said “Ian's Bitch” but Ian was long gone, having dumped her here in exchange for fifty bucks and a bottle of whisky. Raven was a good sport about it all, accepting her place as a sex slave.

  She liked sex. Especially rough sex. As for the parts she didn't like, well that's what punishment was for. A girl's attitude changed a great deal after being chained for a day in the holding cell in the basement. Withholding food was also helpful in that regard as was the cane.

  Raven had been here six months now. Long enough for her to have been well trained in the ways of the club. That training was literal, too. There were commands she responded to, with exciting rapidity, not all that different from what a dog would do.

  Suck. Spread. Crawl. These were only a few of the common words that had become Pavlovian for Raven, and her sister slaves as well.

  The waitress had sucked Kevin's dick while he watched Raven dance. She was one of the best at it and apparently the management had been ordered to give Kevin the royal treatment. That in itself was interesting because it meant that Caine had been alerted to his arrival here.

  What other things did Caine know about his comings and goings?

  Raven was ordered to give him a private dance when she was done on stage and then to bring him back here, to one of the special rooms. The room featured a bed, a full bar and a bathroom. It was paneled in oak, with pristine red carpet.

  Many a man must surely fucked his brains out in here, but alas he would not be one of them. Touching the eager, submissive Raven had left him cold. As beautiful and sexy as she was, he had Erin on his mind.

  He should never have left her with Roger Caine.

  Seeing these women here, groped, exploited and fucked made him want to protect his own wife. She could be his slave, that was fine. But could he really let her be another's? He was having his doubts.

  It was true he owed much to Caine. But was the man asking too much in return? Hopefully the charismatic billionaire had taken his fill and now he would leave Erin alone.

  "Sorry, sweetie, I think I should be going."

  Raven pouted. “Is it me? Would you rather have another girl?"

  "No. I just want to go home to my wife."

  The little slave rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. She was such a beautiful creature. This Ian had been an idiot to let her go.

  "You must love your wife a whole lot. Most of the guys here are trying to get away from them, not run back to them."

  "My wife is my life. I love her more than anything."

  Then come clean with her, he told himself grimly. Share some of the things you've never told her. About your fears of sterility and how that's the real reason why you won't get yourself tested at the doctor. And how you don't think you could make it as a father anyway.

  And how you are still trying to sort out what the hell it means that you need to have your woman whipped and cowed in order to have sex with her.

  "Oh, that is so romantic,” sighed Raven. “I wish someone would love me like that. Do you know that we have Mr. Caine's ex-wife here now? They say she loves him so much still that she would rather be his slave than be completely gone out of his life. Is that devotion or what?"

  Kevin hadn't heard this, but he found it quite interesting. Did Caine have any feelings for her himself? It was unlikely, as feelings were something the man worked hard to keep out of his life, like the flu and athlete's foot.

  "I have always thought women to be much more loyal than men,” said Kevin. “Even if they cheat, it's usually for a good reason."

  "Well, you must be pretty loyal if you love her like that."

  He smiled sadly. “I've had my lapses."

  "It's okay,” Raven winked, showing the wisdom of a person twice her age. “Love doesn't keep score."

  He gave her a final peck on the cheek before leaving. “I wish you the best, Raven. I hope you get out of here o
ne day."

  "Where would I go?” she shrugged. “At least here I get a roof over my head and three squares a day, if I keep my nose clean. Out there, who knows? And hell, I like men calling the shots with me. I like to be sexy for them. I like them making me do what makes them happy. Makes things a whole lot simpler in my book."

  You had to love the girl's perspective. And her tenaciousness.

  Not to mention her sexiness.

  He was feeling pretty good all the way home, still thinking about Raven's silky black hair and her sweet, kissable skin. He would be even happier to kiss Erin's skin, though, and it was all he could do to keep from running up the driveway to meet her.

  Kevin wasn't sure where he would find his wife. He had a few ideas. What he did not expect, though, was to see her in the washroom, in the dark, sitting on the floor by the washing machine, crying.

  It took him several minutes just to get her to stop shaking and sobbing long enough to talk to him. After that it took several more to try and understand what it was she was trying to say.

  Had Caine forced himself on her? Had he hurt her in a way too hard for her to bear? Did he make her do something illegal?

  No to all three, was her response. But there was something else about the man she needed to share, something about his relationship to her from before.

  And that's when she told him about the affair. About how Roger Caine had approached her in the first place, telling her what she could do for his career. She started bawling as she talked about what a horrible wife she'd been to give in to Roger, but Kevin told her that wasn't important now, he just wanted to hear the rest.

  That's when she told him about wanting to break it off with Caine and being told he would make her pay by using Kevin to make her a slave.

  Kevin's skin began to crawl as she laid out the events, one after another. Roger Caine had made a fool out of him, and he'd mistreated his wife too. He was making a game of their lives. Laughing behind both their backs as to what a fool he was making of them.

  Erin started in all over again and he did his best to calm her, holding her against him and speaking words of gentle encouragement. She was a good wife for coming to him and being honest. She'd been a good wife for wanting to help him, too. That was also important to say.

  Mostly, his mind was focusing on a little payback of his own. That bastard Caine had gone too far. He might do this to other people, but Kevin would stand up for their rights. Whatever the man might do to him in return, Kevin would not back down. His wife had been a pawn. An innocent victim. And it was his job to make things right.

  Settling Erin in bed for a rest, Kevin went back to the car, as full of resolve as he'd ever been in his life. Come hell or high water, he vowed, Roger Caine was about to find out he was not the only man born on the planet with balls of steel.

  * * * *

  Caine had never gone incognito to his own club before. Naturally, no one questioned his request to sit at a table other than his usual one, or his injunction that the lights be lowered while a certain dancer was on stage. Everyone knew who she was and apparently word had spread about her grand gesture of self-enslavement.

  It was not a matter he wished to discuss and any employee raising the matter would have been promptly sacked. Roger was here to be left alone to answer his questions about Sophia, to see in her dancing what it was made her do what she had.

  According to Anthony she'd adapted well to slavery. She'd been exceptionally obedient her first day, accepting the rough and highly sexual treatment bestowed on new girls. Ordinarily they did not dance so soon after their arrival, but this, too, was one of Roger's special orders concerning his former bride.

  He would see her perform now, while the events of today were fresh on both their minds. What he expected to see—what he hoped to see—was that there was nothing remarkable going on here. Just a misguided, mixed up, lust-filled woman unable to regulate her own life.

  It would make things much easier this way because then he could write her off, never having to worry about whether or not she should see the kids or whether to give her any financial help. It would all be clear. She'd be a slut, pure and simple, and her identity would be lost forever.

  He could sell her, somewhere far away and she could die fucking as many men as she could stand.

  On the other hand, if he saw something else in her, anything at all by way of nobility, then it would become a lot more complicated. He would have a dilemma on his hands.

  They brought her out as soon as he was seated and comfortable.

  She was wearing a pleated red miniskirt and halter-top and high red heels. It was a whore's costume, but she wore it with a kind of sensual dignity. Her face bore a quiet expression, one he recognized at once. She was there already, in that private world. Caine's heart ached, just for a second, wondering what it felt like there.

  Was Sophia hurting? How the hell could she not be after all she'd been through?

  She began with a slow, airy saunter towards the brass pole. Eyes downcast, she touched it. It was not shame or arousal, so much as ... damn it ... what was it exactly? He couldn't put his finger on it.

  Maybe it was passion, in its purest, most elemental sense, free of any earthly ties, any connection to mere flesh.

  Now she started to move, caressing the pole with her bare belly, making love to it. This was all natural; she'd had no training as of yet. He was stunned by her grace. Could this be the uptight diplomat's daughter? The woman who grew so cold to him in bed over the years that she disdained to touch him at all?

  Her fingernails were long and red. She trailed them down her body, to her half bared thighs. Caine's cock swelled in his pants. He wanted her already. She shook out her hair, a beautiful mane of auburn, fresh and clean. Next, she licked the pole, using her delicate tongue.

  He clenched his hand around the sweaty whisky glass filled with ice. She was smiling, sultry, playing with the crowd. Smoke rose in rings from the cigarettes of several of the men watching. Their faces bore expressions of pure lust. They were as aroused as he was. Waitresses went to work on their cocks.

  Caine tried to put this image together with her words. That she loved him and only him. That couldn't be true. Not with her acting like this much of a slut in front of all these men.

  She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders. Her milk white tits stood proudly. Caine wanted them in his hands right now so bad it hurt.

  He sucked in his breath as she began to caress them. Son of a bitch. This woman was the best exotic dancer he'd ever seen.

  "Sir, can I get you anything?” asked a sultry voice.

  He shooed the waitress away. Nothing could be allowed to break his concentration on this performance now, not even a blowjob.

  Sophia swayed, topless, still holding the blouse, playing with it. At last she tossed it into the audience and a cheer went up.

  She undid the skirt next. He was on the edge of his seat just like all the rest, as if this was going to be a surprise for him, too, as if he hadn't already seen this body so many times before.

  The miniskirt fluttered to the floor, leaving her in a red g-string.

  She was so beautiful, so god damned sexy. Lean and fit, but so very feminine, too, with all the right curves. She only got better with age.

  Maybe he could take her tonight, to a private room. One last fuck for old time's sake. What harm would that do? He was on the verge of giving in to temptation when one of the managers came over to speak to him.

  "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but a man is here to see you. He says if you don't come out he will create a scene."

  Well, that was interesting.

  "Who is it? Did he say?"

  "Yes, sir. It's Kevin Wyatt."

  Even more interesting. A genuine distraction. And just in the nick of time, too.

  "Send him over, right away."

  Kevin seemed a little surprised he was getting to sit with Caine. “Roger, I know this is not a good time, but we have
to talk."

  "There are no good times,” he watched his ex-wife lower herself to her belly on the stage so she could raise and lower her pelvis in simulation of the sex act.

  "It's about Erin,” he came straight to the point. “I know all about how you seduced her. And I know about your little scheme to use me, too, making me think I was really her master. I know everything, and I am not going to let it stand. You can do what you want to me, but you can't have Erin. I'll do everything in my power to stop you. I'm not afraid of you, Roger. Take it all from me, my right to practice law, my job, I know you can ruin me, but it doesn't matter."

  Caine hadn't looked at him once. He was seeing only Sophia, lovely, lonely, Sophia, rolling on the stage, her naked breasts on the dusty floor, her tongue touching the surface of it in an act of utter subjugation. How had he not seen this loveliness before? Had she changed or had he?

  Sophia went to her back now, offering herself, barely covered, knowing any of the men she was inflaming could have her. Pleasure might await her or only pain. Above all, she knew herself captive. And it was him who had put her there.

  Caine could not allow a second more of this. He had to intervene. Turning to Kevin Wyatt, no doubt shocking the hell out of him with his acquiescence, he said, “Erin is yours. You have no fears from me. I suggest you go home. Tell her that. Then love her, all night. And every day after for the rest of your lives."

  His mouth hung open as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. When he saw there was nothing more to come he rose from his seat. “Thank you, Roger. You don't know how much this means."

  He looked at the stage once more, then rose himself, walking towards it. “Yes,” he replied, more to himself than Wyatt. “I do."

  * * * *

  Kevin found Erin sound asleep in their marriage bed. She looked so peaceful, like a little angel. His heart swelled with love for her. And also pride, combined with a monumental possessiveness. All at once he wanted to smother her in kisses, caress her gently and enter her savagely, affirming his dominance in one fell swoop.