Obediently Ever After Page 7

  "The kind of female I'm talking about, Kevin, is a slave. A female slave."

  Kevin tried not to laugh. “You're not serious?"

  "Tell me you've never thought of it? Having your wife or any desirable woman at your command. Naked, obedient, subject to discipline and bondage, any sort of treatment you choose. You can do it all, any of it, simply because it turns you on. And it turns her on, too, because that's how she's made. It's her biology. The pattern is duplicated in virtually every society, every time period. Female submitting to male. Cock inserted into pussy. Why are they smaller, Kevin? Why are they weaker? Why do they lie on their backs or go on their hands and knees to procreate? Why, for that matter, do the babies come through them? They are meant to be controlled, Wyatt. To be owned. And we are meant to own them. We crave it. It's what makes us hard, and strong. And virile."

  Kevin frowned. It was true, with Bree he'd fantasized about things like this. A lot. At times he'd wondered if that isn't why he'd gone to her in the first place. And then there was the evidence from last night—the way Erin had egged him on, practically forcing him to spank and rape her. She'd wanted it, too. Only he'd backed down. Out of morality. Or what he'd been raised to think was morality.

  "There are things,” Kevin admitted. “That I would do. I just don't know how she'd take it."

  "She has to take it, my boy. She's your wife, isn't she? Did she not pledge to obey you?"

  Kevin laughed dryly. “But I hardly think that includes whips and chains."

  "It's meant to,” said Caine, putting the car back in gear. “As you are about to find out."

  "Wait,” Kevin said. “There's something I need to ask you, before we go."

  "What's that?"

  "Your marriage. It ended. Did you try this first ... this slavery business?"

  "That's a fair question,” he conceded. “And the answer is, no. First, because I had children to consider, and second—and this is the more important reason—because I made a mistake. I thought I could use reason with Sophia, I thought we could cooperate, and be civil. Even through the separation I held out this hope. I learned the hard way, I was wrong. And if I had it to do over again, I would have put Sophia in her place, at my feet, where she belonged."

  Kevin wondered if the man could ever see a way back, but he thought it prudent not to ask. “I want to keep my marriage, Roger. I'll take any help you can give me."

  "That's the spirit. You have the drive and the will. All you need now is an open mind. If you can manage that, you will be ready to see the club. And learn the lessons it has to teach."

  "You mean the Riverside Club? But what will I find there?"

  "Slaves,” grinned Roger Caine. “Lots and lots of slaves."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Erin stood under the jets of the shower for what felt like hours. She could not make herself feel clean no matter how hard she tried. The stains were there, the marks from where Troy had touched her, the evidence of where he'd filled in gaps, and, oh, god, she couldn't even pretend she'd hated it or that it hadn't been fantastic sex. Sex she'd asked for as much as him; maybe more, because hadn't she enticed him into it, with her infernal eyes and hungry lips? Hadn't she asked to be tied like a bitch in heat, fit for only one thing?

  It was so confusing, the order of things—how she'd ended up underneath the guitar player, how she'd come to be on that bed and in that hotel room, instead of home, where she belonged.

  Yes, there was the lust factor. Troy was sexy as hell. There was no denying that. Her pussy still twinged from where he'd plunged that great big cock of his. It might have been the danger, too, the way she'd let a man other than her husband kiss her in a public parking lot. The way she'd whispered “no” so very half-heartedly as he gave her a goodbye caress on the ass. A no they both knew was yes.

  Danger and power, these seemed the two great ingredients. No wonder she'd been attracted to Roger Caine, then. He was the epitome of both.

  Caine. Damn it, she'd almost forgotten all about the man. She was supposed to have been terminating their affair today. Why hadn't he shown? Was this one of his games? A dark suspicion clouded her mind. And behind that an even darker terror. This was a man capable of anything. One look in his eyes said that. What if he was up to something now, something that would cause her ruin?

  Erin must get hold of him, immediately, and settle things once and for all. Maybe she would use a few threats of her own. Surely she could find something to use against him?

  The question was what. She was the one cheating, not him.

  Toweling herself off, too disgusted to even look in the mirror, Erin went to call him. The clock on her cell phone said five. How had it gotten so late? It must have been the circling around she'd done before coming home. A no man's land all her own between the hotel and home.

  "You didn't wait for me,” Caine answered her call.

  "You didn't come,” she countered.

  He chuckled. “But apparently you did."

  Erin leaned against her kitchen counter for support, the blood rushing to her head. The bastard knew. “This is your doing,” she said. “Isn't it?"

  "I think you managed things quite nicely all by yourself. I provided the opportunity for you to show what a slut you are, and you took it, that's all."

  Shame reddened her cheeks, closely matched by anger. “You have no right, Roger."

  "Don't I? It's my attorney's interests I'm trying to protect. I need him to have a stable home front."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Don't play dumb. You're a smart girl, Erin. You mean to say you didn't see this coming? You did the one thing I don't allow in this world. You said no to me. In exchange I am going to take away what you value most. Your freedom."

  "You're talking in riddles, Roger."

  "Too hard for you, are they? Here's a simpler one, then. You had an audience today, in the parking lot. Can you guess who that was?"

  Erin slid to the floor, her back against the cabinet. “Omigod,” she croaked. “You didn't?"

  "I did,” he said. “It was quite an eye opener for your happy go lucky husband, trust me. But fear not, I helped him through the worst of it. In fact, it's safe to say, his pain is all but over and yours is about to begin."

  "I—I don't understand."

  "You soon will. I took Kevin to a place where women like you are dealt with in a special way. He learned his lessons well, and he intends to make you the guinea pig for his ongoing learning. Naturally, I will continue to guide him closely."

  Erin felt the fear rise within her, a dark dread, and a helplessness, too. It was making her tingle, a hot rush between her legs. Her voice became a ghost of itself, the words a low rhetorical whisper. “What's going to happen to me, Roger?"

  The question hung in the air, for the briefest of seconds before Caine delivered the blow.

  "You are going to be a slave, my dear, in every sense of the word."

  This time it was Roger who ended the call, ending with it Erin's life as she'd known it.

  Erin sat like this for a very long time, just thinking. Should she call Kevin and beg for mercy? Should she run as far away as she could and never see him again?

  In the end, she decided to do nothing. Kevin must make the choice for them both. He would put her in chains or not. Divorce her or not. Caine might be forcing events from behind the scenes, but for her part, Erin would hold fast to her man. No matter what, she would love him. Always.

  Damn it, this waiting for him to get home was going to kill her, though. What would she do in the mean time?

  It was the kitchen gave her inspiration. I'll cook, she thought. I'll cook a meal for my husband.

  * * * *

  Kevin Wyatt was filled with a strange detachment as he wound his way through the streets of his subdivision. He'd made this maze-like drive hundreds and hundreds of times, but this evening felt like the first. It wasn't the pastel colored ranch houses and brightly colored mini vans in the asphalt drives that had chan
ged, of course, it was his eyes. They'd been opened, purified somehow.

  This was not the same Kevin Wyatt who'd kissed his sleepy wife goodbye and gone off to work. This was a Kevin Wyatt who, in one day had seen his spouse embrace another man and then gone on to witness wonders enough to change his view of male-female relations forever.

  Kevin had been with slaves. And with their owners. At first glance the Riverside Club had seemed like a normal gentleman's establishment, with pretty girls writhing on poles and fawning over male customers, wanting to give them drinks and grind themselves on their laps.

  But he quickly saw there were no limits in here. The men were allowed, even encouraged to touch. The girls didn't only bring the drinks, they came along with the cost of them. Like bowls of peanuts to pop in your mouth or complimentary weenies at happy hour.

  If it was merely the groping or the backroom sex, Caine might well have gotten away with prostitutes, but it was obvious the club's tastes ran much darker and deeper. When a buxom redhead accidentally spilled a drink, for example, she was dragged to the stage, stripped of her skimpy costume and secured to the dancing pole for a whipping. Afterwards she was made to crawl naked to the man, kissing his foot and begging forgiveness.

  Kevin's cock was rock hard the whole time, seeing the helpless girl writhe under the lash. It was so cruel, so totally unjustified and yet somehow it seemed ... right.

  He wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but their own waitress had been a straight haired blonde, slender like Erin. She was topless with pierced nipples. Roger had him play with the little rings as the girl bent obediently. At one point Kevin had a finger through each as Caine spanked her thronged behind.

  They spent time talking to her, as well, learning her story. How she'd run away from home only to end up selling her body on the streets. She had a pimp, which was pretty much the same as a slave owner, who used to work her twenty hours a day.

  She'd get beaten for falling below her quota and more than once she'd been attacked by sleazy clients. Roger's men had spared her this life, offering her a roof over her head and guaranteed freedom from gun shot wounds and stabbings.

  Provided she sign the contract.

  It was a standard piece of paper outlining the terms of each girl's slavery. From a legal standpoint, it had no value, but its symbolism was important. Caine had given Kevin a blank copy of one, just before taking him on the tour.

  If the upstairs had been mind opening, the downstairs had been a total cerebral blowout. It was here that the real nuts and bolts of the girls’ slavery took place. There were cages and racks of whips. There were bowls on the floor to eat from and mattresses—most of them dirty—to sleep on. There was even a slave's version of a shower, a concrete alcove where a naked girl could be doused with a high-pressure hose.

  Roger explained in detail the use of each station and each item. He was even given the opportunity to practice with the crop and cane on a few of the girls, as well. The hands on experience was good, and with each new lesson, Roger took the opportunity to drive home this one single point. Erin deserved this. Erin subconsciously wanted it. Indeed, her actions, whether she knew it or not, were a silent plea for enslavement.

  Needless to say, he was battling an erection the whole time. When one of the girls looked up at him on all fours like a lost puppy, collared and leashed, he nearly lost it. Without being touched, he was ready to spill his load.

  "Take it home,” Roger put his hand on Kevin's shoulder. “Take it home."

  And so he was, armed with a blank contract in his briefcase and what felt like ten years hard earned wisdom.

  He still loved his wife. That hadn't changed. He wanted her, too, more than anything. It was just that things had gotten so complicated before, what with his being attracted to Bree and all.

  Caine had an answer for that, too. “Invite your girlfriend over, fuck her in front of your wife. Make your wife clean you up afterwards. Things will make a lot more sense after that."

  Wasn't that a double standard? Kevin had asked. Seeing as how he would be controlling her sex life completely.

  Caine had laughed. “Nature has no room for fairness or neutrality. You want to stick up for the underdog? Grow a pussy. Otherwise, learn to live with the fact that you're a man."

  In a lot of ways what Caine had talked about was like handling a dog. In essence, he was being invited (asked?) to train his own wife in the ways that pleased him. Beginning with working on her “leg spreading problem” as Caine put it.

  "Women are bitches,” Roger had told him. “They know two things. Fuck or be fucked. Left to roam free, they sniff out cock, dominating the weak, crawling like sluts to the strong. You can love her, that's fine, Kevin. But never lose sight of the fact that you must be firm. Stop navel gazing and step up to the plate. Erin cheated on you and she has to be punished. Physically. After that, just let the slavery take its course. You're her husband, you'll know what to do."

  He thought of the pool cue case and the black valise he'd been given, the former filled with discipline tools, the latter containing items of bondage. It was a slave owner's start-up kit. A rudimentary collection of sadist's devices, which he was going to be using on his own wife.

  The thought was strangely exhilarating and as he turned into his driveway it occurred to him it had been ages since he had felt this excited to come home. Yes, he was still very angry, hurt, betrayed and there was a lot of relationship stuff they'd have to one day face. But for now, he was on a mission.

  A mission to save his marriage.

  * * * *

  Erin waited for her husband in the kitchen. She hadn't been this nervous since grammar school. She hoped he would like her outfit. “I made dinner,” she said softly, not daring to make eye contact.

  He looked her up and down, quickly noting her floral print dress and then sat down. She felt a shiver up and down her spine as he asked for a beer. His tone wasn't hostile or threatening, simply ... commanding.

  "It's pot roast,” she put the chilled mug in front of him. “I was hoping you'd be in the mood for it; I was going to call and ask, but I know how busy you are."

  Oh, god, she was prattling. Should she go ahead now and beg his forgiveness or wait for him to bring up the subject? Something had changed in him, that was obvious. She'd received no kiss, not even a smile. Even his walk was different. He was clipped in his motions, almost military.

  "The pot roast will do fine,” he said.

  Erin breathed a sigh of relief as she set out the platters consisting of sliced meat, mashed potatoes and asparagus, all his favorites. Maybe Caine had been bluffing. Maybe her husband didn't know anything at all about today at the hotel.

  Her hopes were shattered as she moved to sit down at the table.

  "No,” he told her. “You'll stand tonight and serve me."

  Erin gripped the back of the chair, her pussy flooding. It was starting, she was sure of it. Kevin was about to change their marriage, and her status, in a major way.

  He ate his meal slowly, taking far more relish than usual. Erin's eyes were glued to his plate, his hands. At the slightest sign of need, she was there. Refilling his portions, fetching a fresh beer, whatever it took to make him happy.

  She was dying to get some sense of where this was all leading, but she was not sure it was appropriate for her to raise the topic. The meal seemed to last forever, her pulse racing as she looked between him and the unused place setting that ought to be hers. Was he going to let her eat at all? How long would she have to stand like this? Why wasn't he even talking to her? Not even to yell?

  Finally, as she was serving him a dessert of chocolate pudding and whipped cream, she lost it. “Honey, I know today was rough, and I just want to say-"

  "That's enough, Erin.” He cut her off firmly. “From this point on, you will speak only with permission."

  She sucked in her lower lip. “You mean just now or ... forever?"

  Kevin frowned. “Go into the bedroom, Erin, and wait
for me there."

  Her eyes watered. She'd obviously displeased him.

  She wanted to apologize, but he'd effectively gagged her. How much worse this was shaping up to be than she'd imagined. Not only had she hurt the man she loved most in the world, now she wasn't even getting a chance to make it right.

  Although maybe that was just as well, because each time she opened her mouth only seemed to make it worse.

  Kevin hadn't given her any specific instructions so she took the liberty of lying face down on the bed. Burying her head in the pillow, still in her pearl and heels and nineteen fifties happy wifey dress and apron, Erin Wyatt bawled her eyes out.

  She was so, so sorry. If only she could turn the clock back, if only she could take away the sting of what she'd done.

  The tears had largely subsided by the time her husband came in, though the sound of his voice made them start in all over again. He sat beside her on the bed, shirtless.

  "It's going to be all right,” he crooned, allowing her to sit up and bury her head on his bare shoulder. “We will get past this. I know that you love me; I know that you are sorry. I love you, too. You know that, right baby?"

  "Y—you do?” She sniffled, feeling like a silly small child.

  "I do,” he stroked her hair. “And I am telling you that you are my wife and I will never stop loving you, and I will never leave you."

  "Oh, baby,” she squeezed him tight. “I won't stop loving you, either. I will always be proud to be your wife ... by your side, your partner, forever."

  Kevin grasped her upper arms, gently pushing her back. “Together, yes,” he agreed. “But not partners. We can't be equal anymore."

  "We can't?” It was slavery he meant, the thing she dreaded most but which also fascinated her in all sorts of ways. “But why?"

  "Don't be coy,” he chastised lightly. “You and I both know what has to happen. It almost happened last night, only I held back. You wanted me to go on, though, didn't you?"

  She thought of what it had been like on all fours on this very bed, her ass beaten into submission, knowing her husband was out there, taking his time, getting himself ready to fuck her in the ass, leaving her no option but to endure his absence, thinking, yearning, empty.