She told him she should be apologizing not him, on account of the beer steins, but he vigorously opposed her taking any of the responsibility. Her behavior might have warranted an apology initially, but he'd lost that right, so he said, the moment he laid a hand on her.
I rather enjoyed it, she wanted to tell him. But there was simply no way to break through the man's cloud of gloom and guilt this morning. He got this way sometimes and she had to just let him be. It made her feel helpless, when she couldn't do anything. Like she was a bad wife.
Last night he had been so different. Calm and masterful and so ... alive. And she'd felt so free, strange as it seemed. It was exhilarating to think they might do this again, or maybe go further.
Did she want to be taken in the ass? No. Truthfully, it terrified her. But she knew the joy it would bring him. That much was clear. It was his idea and that made her love it, simply because she knew how much it turned him on.
Erin smiled in pride, running her hands over the sore spots on her posterior. Not much to see, but it was most certainly real. Just to test her mettle, she gave her ass a tentative smack. She leaped a little from the shock, but overall it felt good.
Maybe a little too good. A girl could get used to this and then where would she be? The future was uncertain in that regard, though as long as she thought about it all coming from Kevin it all felt right. He wouldn't mislead her and he wouldn't hurt her.
Which begged the question of Roger Caine. The man was egomaniacal and his tentacles wound tightly around the law firm, and around her husband's career. The situation was dicey. How would each man react? She could tell Kevin and he might well go off half sprung against the ruthless tycoon. Caine would squash him like a bug. He might do that anyway if he sensed Kevin was cheating him of a prize that he considered his own. Erin had no illusions that she could ever mean very much to a billionaire, but a man like Caine was just liable to be petty enough to make something over an insignificant woman like herself.
It wasn't fair, because he had his pick of beauty queens and movie stars, but obviously, he liked playing his games. She felt ashamed now thinking how he must be secretly laughing at her husband every time they were together. Poor Kevin having no idea he was a laughingstock. It could even be that's what he fucked her for in the first place, just to enjoy lording it over the peon lawyer.
Did Caine have no conscience? He'd told her he would call her again and she would come back to him. She'd almost begged to be set free and instead of letting her go gracefully, he'd made her suck his dick.
Well, not made her exactly. He didn't have a gun to her head, did he? Face, it girl, she thought, something in you just responds when a man gets tough. It was all of Kevin's big talk about the future way back when that had made her wet for him in the first place. They would take their picnics to the park and he would launch into his speeches while she sat demurely, half listening as she thought of how she wanted to tear off his clothes and get to the tiger underneath.
Finally she'd had enough. She was so horny, she interrupted him right in the middle of a monologue. Taking his hand, she put it on the swell of her breast, the nipple hard as a rock under her halter-top.
"Fuck me, Kevin,” she rasped.
His eyes were wide as silver dollars, but there was no denying the swell in his shorts.
Erin had touched it lightly, reverently. “Please?"
Kevin laid his future wife out on the blanket, stripping her lean, golden body. The sun kissed her skin deliciously. She felt like the first woman in the world, a handsome, ambitious, rock hard young man above her.
"I'm yours,” she said. “If you want me."
He did. Twice in fact, back to back.
God, he was so masterful back then. She'd given him all he wanted, of her body and her heart. Even now she could feel that early heat, their bodies fused, so much promise as he held her, pinning her, wrists overhead, loved, possessed, wanted.
Filled.
At once Erin felt a wave of peace fill her, followed by resolution.
I have to fight, she thought. I have to be the woman here, the wife. I have done wrong and I have to right it. Things have to be put back the way they are supposed to be. Kevin has me, and Caine has his companies. They do business with each other, and I have nothing to do with that. With Roger Caine.
She was clear and she would fix things with her husband and heal the wound she was going to have to inflict by telling him. But Caine was the missing piece of the puzzle. She must speak to him. She must appeal to him. Beg, if need be for mercy.
Let me go, Roger ... sir. You have enough. You have everything.
Erin used her cell phone to call him. She had his private number. It was one even Kevin did not have and she did not wish it to show up on their phone bill. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the send button. Please, let him answer.
If not, she would have to leave a message, and that would not be enough. She would have to give more. She knew that.
"Well, well,” chortled the voice at the other end of the line. “That didn't take long. I knew you couldn't hold out. Is that little pussy of yours hungry for more? Or is your ass needing to be smacked again?"
Erin felt the bile rise in her stomach. If she was sure before, she was twice as sure now. “No, Roger, it's neither. I want to talk to you. Just talk."
"Oh, dear, that doesn't sound good,” he sighed. “Are we breaking up again? That's twice in two days. Now who else will go to the prom with me on such short notice?"
"This isn't a joke, Roger. This is my life. It may not mean much to you, but-"
"Meet me at the Willow Arms. The Ambassador Suite. One o'clock. We'll settle this."
Erin's radar was up. “No more sex, Roger."
"I won't lay a hand on you. You have my word."
Erin felt a hot chill down her spine as she thought of what the man was capable of doing to her without his hands. “That leaves open a lot of things, Roger."
He laughed. “I think you should have been the lawyer instead of Kevin. All right, I will fill in the loopholes for you. As of this moment I will never again ask you for any sexual favors or caresses. How's that?"
She sucked in her lower lip. It sounded good but this was Caine she was talking to, she had to stay on her toes. “If you are really done with me, why meet me in a hotel room, then?"
"Fair question,” he acknowledged. “Call me sentimental, nothing more. Would it surprise you, a man wanting a last private look at a woman he will never have again?"
"Five minutes,” she said. “I will stay five minutes, then I walk out of that door, and out of your life. You get your last look and then ... you leave me alone."
Her own boldness caught her off guard. She could only pray the man responded in the right vein.
"Bravo, my sweet child. I think now maybe you should have been the CEO and the lawyer. I could have stayed home and raised babies for Kevin. How are those little swimmers coming along anyway?"
Erin's heart seized in her chest. Had her husband confided in this man about their infertility problems? He had resisted getting the testing without explanation but was he now opening up to a near stranger? She felt violated, doubly so, knowing the man who'd been between her legs had also meddled in her deepest personal affairs.
"One o'clock,” she said, as mechanically as possible. “At the Willows. You'll get your five minutes."
Erin broke the connection, sincerely wishing there were more beer steins to throw. Then again, maybe she'd asked for this, too. By keeping so much to herself, by trying so hard to fix things on her own. She'd meant well, not troubling him with things, not putting sexual pressure on him. Even Caine was in her life to this end. If she could ease his way in his job, she'd reasoned, he would find some peace of mind.
It wasn't about the babies. They could adopt. She wanted him happy. Didn't he see that?
For a split second she thought of calling Kevin and telling him everything. But she had to be strong. For both of them. Five minutes
, she told herself. How hard could that be?
It wasn't till she got to the shower that it dawned on her. Five minutes of doing nothing but standing in a hotel room really was a laughably easy way to be rid of the likes of a Roger Caine.
Was it just her being paranoid, or did this seem just a little too easy?
* * * *
Caine was still chuckling after Erin broke the phone connection. Leaning back in his smooth, black leather desk chair, he reviewed the principle elements of the conversation. Erin's phone call hadn't surprised him at all. He'd been expecting it, in fact. And he'd anticipated what she would say, too, though he hadn't expected it to be delivered with so much moxy.
Imagine her ... hanging up on him. And there wasn't a trace of desperation or fear in her voice either. She was simply holding her ground, resolved. Where had that come from? If he didn't know better he'd say she'd gotten fucked by hubby last night.
Happy, happy Erin. All's right with the world again. Time to slip back into her nice, white picket fence oblivion.
Except Roger wasn't going to let her go that easily. She had to know that. Was she really this naive? These kinds of games were his bread and butter. The thing he lived for. Breaking women. He wasn't necessarily proud of it, but he didn't lose any sleep, either. Because the alternative to using women was submitting to them and that was not about to happen.
Roger Caine liked his kittens de-clawed, thank you very, and he enjoyed doing the job himself, one adorable paw at a time. Admittedly, he'd fucked up big time with Sophia, but she was the mother of his children, so he'd treaded extra lightly.
He had her waiting right now outside his office and he'd get to her. There were also the two girls from the club kissing each other on the couch. First, there was Mrs. Wyatt to be dealt with, though. As it turned out, he'd left one more loophole in his arrangement for this afternoon. Had the eminently fuckable little blonde been listening more closely, she'd have picked up on the fact that he'd never actually promised that it was he himself who would be waiting for her in the room.
In fact, it would be another, namely one of the young musicians from the club. This other man would be perfectly free to touch her. Or to do anything else he could manage in five minutes. He wouldn't force himself on her, but he would employ some instant seduction. Troy was a guitar player, with soulful eyes, able to charm most women in seconds flat. How far he got wouldn't really matter, though. The point was to get Erin in a compromising position and then spill the beans to Kevin. This in turn would form the basis for his using the young man to get to his wife. Through Caine's subsequent influence, Erin would be reduced in status from loving spouse to cringing slave.
Caine smiled at his own cleverness. “More tongue,” he ordered the two girls who were sitting side by side on the leather couch. Candy and Sydney locked faces, desperate to please. They hated one another but they were slaves themselves and had no choice. For his part, Caine enjoyed watching them squirm, fighting their own arousal, trying so hard to keep their hands off each other's bodies while still making it look real enough.
Syd, his spoiled dancer girl, had dark circles under her eyes from her night in the cage. She wasn't used to such rough accommodations. It was fun to build a girl's status and then swiftly reduce it like that. It kept her hungry and humble.
For her part, Candy the waitress was pleased to have been sprung from her usual morning activity of scrubbing the kitchen floor, naked on her hands and knees. The chore took much longer this way, because male staff were apt to stop off to beat her pear shaped ass or give her a good stiff fuck from behind, but it was worth the lost time to keep vibrant the central point of the club, which was the availability of the females. Even the busboys were entitled to slave pussy as far as Caine was concerned.
Caine marveled at the differences in the two girls’ bodies. Both were dressed identically, in short, tight, black skirts and tight white blouses. Big bosomed Candy was shorter, with wild red hair and a traditional hourglass figure. Her tits strained the buttons of the blouse as the two of them kissed and you could just tell how a woman like this was going to end up as a man's slut no matter what she tried to do with her life.
Sydney, by contrast, was tall, all leg. Her feline body filled out the skirt to perfection and to see her was to want her to move for you, wearing nothing but a thong, green eyes smoldering as she sways, just for you, the kind of lap dancer a man hands over his paycheck to only to have his heart broken week after week.
But there were no broken hearts at the Riverside Club. When Syd inflamed a dick she was responsible for it. In the private rooms, where a man could do what he pleased. More than one of the customers enjoyed punishing Sydney for her beauty, her perfect oval face and silky black hair. Who knew what went through their minds as they lashed her, watching her body writhe on the whipping post. Maybe it was because their wives would never look this good, or because their daughters did and were out being fucked by god knows who. Then again, maybe it was just their own lost youth or the need to exercise power, somewhere, anywhere.
Some said power was a drug, that you never got your fill. Caine had no problem personally, so long as he had total control of the supply.
"That's enough,” he said. “Pull yourselves together. We're going to have company."
The girls exchanged complicated looks as they arranged themselves best they could. Tucking in shirt flaps, pushing down erect nipples, raking hands through unruly hair. Fortunately he hadn't allowed them makeup or they would be hysterical right now wanting to fix it.
"Ready?” His hand was already on the buzzer.
The pair moved swiftly to the edge of the couch, hands in their laps, taking up position. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison, knowing it had not been a question at all.
Roger had Lillian send in Sophia. He'd kept her waiting, of course. Magnanimously, he stood for his five foot four inch former wife, auburn haired, the daughter of a French diplomat and an English movie actress. The press had always loved her, and why not, she was there perfect whore.
"I'm glad you could make it,” he said. “It's always a privilege."
Sophia noticed the women and tried to hide her frown. She never liked him to see her pain but this morning he would give her no choice.
"This is Candy and Sydney,” Caine acknowledged her interest. “They are from the entertainment division of the company."
Sophia's mocha colored eyes flashed with barely disguised hatred. “I know what they are, Roger. Can we please just get on with this?"
He pursed his lips. “But of course. Won't you have a seat?"
She moved towards one of the black wingbacks.
"Not there,” he stopped her in her tracks. “On the couch."
Sophia's mouth ovaled as she looked again at the sexy women. “Roger, you can't expect me to go near those ... those..."
"Whores, you mean? Actually I can,” he said curtly. “And I am."
"You're a bastard,” she hissed low, almost under her breath. “A total fucking bastard."
"And you, my fair ambassador's daughter, are quite thoroughly rude. These girls have done absolutely nothing to you and yet you snub them. You know, if this is how you are treating your fellow human beings these days, I can scarce imagine how you'd be with the children."
Sophia's face narrowed in pain and rage. He had her. By the female equivalent of the balls. “Very well,” she tried to keep her dignity. “But know that what I do, I do for Roger Junior and Amelia."
"Your altruism is noted,” he said sardonically. Caine watched the woman's sculpted ass under the black dress. She always did know how to tease. Once upon a time he'd felt something close to love. A dread admiration, really, for a woman who understood power nearly as well as he did. They'd certainly had a ride on the way up. The children complicated matters as they often do. Sophia's interests became divided, her motives harder to read. She wasn't there for him as much anymore and that was not a thing a man like Roger Caine could easily forgive.
&nb
sp; All that might have been overcome, though, had she not broken the cardinal rule by betraying his trust and putting their business on the streets. She had tried to take his honor from him. And for that he had ruined her. And would continue to do so the rest of her natural life.
Resisting the temptation to ask who she'd had to fuck to afford the dress given her paltry income nowadays, Caine snapped his fingers, signaling for the girls to move far enough apart so his ex-wife could sit between them.
The two slaves looked as uncomfortable as his former wife.
"Ladies, this won't do,” he pronounced. “We need to break the ice, don't you think?"
"We just need to talk about the kids, Roger. I need to see them ... they need to see me."
Roger raised an eyebrow. He was sniffing out the weakness in her, the fear. She of all people ought to know that would cost her. “Awfully vain of you don't you think, Sophia—to think they can't get along without you?"
"But I'm their mother,” she tried to reason. “Children need their mothers."
Roger could give a fuck about her logic. He wanted to make her cry. “Mothers are useful early on, yes,” he agreed. “For nourishment. And that's about it. What can you give them now? They don't need your tits. And neither do I. Candy, Sydney, take off your blouses."
The girls unbuttoned dutifully. They had no bras on underneath.
"See what I mean? I have plenty for myself. Girls, pinch your nipples. Hard."
The two women took hold of the tight nubs, squeezing between thumb and forefinger. Candy's were thicker and pinker. Syd's were small and darker, a perfect match for her high, pointed breasts.
"I own them,” said Roger matter of factly, as his ex-wife endured the stereophonic suffering. “They're my slaves and you won't blab a fucking word about it because now I own you, too."
Sophia tried to block out the sound of the whimpering girls. “I will never give myself to you again, Roger. I would die first."
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