Smutty Little Secrets

by Vivienne Hunt

  When it was time to go home, I dreaded sitting down in Jason’s car. Truthfully, the idea of walking home would have been more tempting if I could have managed it. As it was, Jason spent the entire way home blasting the radio while singing along. At least he still held my hand.

  “Have a nice evening, Nikki,” he said to me when he dropped me off at my house. “I’ll see you in the morning, and remember the instructions that Cassandra gave you for your anal training. We will expect that you follow our rules to the letter. Do you understand?” His voice was stern, but his eyes were filled with warmth. He was pleased with me, and that’s all that mattered.

  “Yes, Master, I understand completely.” And I meant every word.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this—me, at dinner, sitting across from my oblivious, self-absorbed husband, who had done nothing but spend the better part of an hour talking about himself. I stabbed at the poached salmon I had prepared, mentally picturing his head at the end of my fork instead of the pink fish. The painkillers had worn off long before dinner was ready, so I was on my second gin and tonic by the time Brad had decided to come home and grace me with his presence.

  “What about you, Nikki? What did you do today?” Brad was finishing the last morsel of fish on his plate. He had always enjoyed my cooking, which, currently, was a minuscule consolation for having to sit through his narcissistic yapping since he had walked through the door.

  I had had enough. Fuck it. I swirled the hard liquor around in my fancy lowball glass made from cut crystal. I always liked that set—the weight of it feeling substantial in the palm of my hand. “I went to work today,” I announced as if it was the most natural thing in the world for me to say.

  Fuck him, I thought as I finished off my second drink and then began to pour myself a third.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Brad set his fork down.

  “I said, ‘I went to work today.’ You know, as in a job.” I grinned into my glass before taking a sip. I was almost to the place where I couldn’t feel my ass cheeks again. It was a delightful realization.

  “Please explain to me what you mean by a job.” Brad lifted his cloth napkin off of his lap and folded it neatly on top of the dining room table. Any other time in my life, I would have cringed at the slow boil that was my husband, simmering across the table from me, before he really blew and lost his temper. But after what I had been through today, I was relishing in the anger and frustration that he was stewing in.

  Good. Let’s all be in pain together!

  “Well, my dear,” I said with a giggle, thoroughly enjoying the partial, alcohol-induced coma that I was working myself into, “the last time I checked, a job is where a person gets paid to work in a particular position or career.” I downed the rest of my third drink in one go. “And that’s what I have now. Thanks to your handsome brother and our lovely sister-in-law, I, Nikki Logan, am gainfully employed.”

  I am also a gainful slut, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

  Three . . .

  Two . . .

  One . . .

  Calmly I counted down the seconds until Brad could no longer control his temper.

  “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!” Brad hollered at me from across the table. He pushed his chair back, and it made a sickening screech across the wood floor.

  “Well, that’s going to leave a mark.” I giggled again. Maybe I was drunker than I realized.

  “I KNEW IT! I knew something was going on between the three of you.” Brad threw his hands up in the air while he paced back and forth. A vein in his temple pulsed rapidly.

  “You don’t know she-aat,” I slurred as I rose shakily to my feet. “Maybe if you paid a bit more attention to me instead of constantly having your head up your ass, then . . . then . . .” I giggled again at the irony of it all, not bothering to finish my sentence. Here I was, mouthing off to my husband in a yoga outfit, with no bra and no panties on—of course—with a butt plug shoved up my ass, while drunkenly lecturing him on what was up his ass.

  I grasped my sides as peals of laughter bubbled out of me. Maybe I was too far gone. Maybe someone needed to send the paddy wagon for me and take me away.

  Brad furiously punched away at the keys on his Blackberry. “I’m calling them,” he threatened. “I’m calling them right now, and we are getting this fucking mess straightened out!”

  I would like to say that his threat got through to me, but I would be lying. Instead, I couldn’t stop laughing. Never had Brad appeared so pathetic to me, in all of my life, as he did right then.

  “STOP YOUR FUCKING LAUGHING!” Brad screamed at me as he threw his wine glass at my head. His aim was way off. It shattered when it hit the wall behind me.

  This time his outburst had its desired effect.

  I froze, stunned. Brad and I may not have had the perfect marriage, but he had never resorted to violence before. A vision of him hitting me played out in my brain. Terrified, my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in as I bolted out of the dining room, up the stairs, and locked myself in the master bathroom.

  “That’s it; run, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Brad screamed at me from downstairs. “You fucking piece of shit! You think you can keep things from me?!”

  Funny thing—panic mixed with adrenaline—because I was sober in an instant. Repeatedly I splashed cold water on my face. As took in my reflection, shame started to seep into my senses. I could feel the tears beginning to build. I was angry and upset. On one hand, I was cheating on my husband as if there was no tomorrow, and yet, at the same time, he couldn’t even give me the satisfaction of keeping a job, of having self-worth. He wouldn’t even let me have that.

  Disgusted with myself and disgusted with him, I dipped my head, went over to the toilet, and carefully removed the intrusion from my butt.

  Who are you fooling, Nikki? You’ve never been able to stand up to him, not really. What makes you think that you’re going to start now? What makes you think that things were ever going to be different?

  I wondered what would have happened if I had thrown my glass right back at him. Something told me that my satisfaction would have been short-lived.

  I wiped my bottom and then wrapped the plastic sex toy in a wad of toilet paper and threw it into the trash.

  Suddenly Brad was at the door, banging and screaming from the other side. “LET ME IN, YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’m your GODDAMN HUSBAND!” He jiggled the knob. “You’d BETTER listen to me when I TELL YOU SOMETHING!”

  My head was swimming as I backed up and into the shower. I slumped down onto the tile and brought my knees up to my chest while wrapping my arms around them. The dam of tears I had been holding back burst, and they began to flow freely down my cheeks. In the back of my mind, I realized that I had left my cell phone charging on my nightstand. I didn’t even have the means to call for help.

  “YOU THINK YOU’RE SO SMART!” Brad tirelessly pounded at the door. Thank God it was made of solid oak.

  I pressed my fingers into my ears as I shut my eyes, trying to block him out. What a mess I had made of things. If only I could have been happy doing what Brad asked me to do. If only that would have been enough, then none of this would be happening.

  You wouldn’t have been able to resist her, or him, and you know it, the voice inside my head argued. You love them, and they love you.

  I heard more voices from downstairs, and Brad abandoned his assault on the door.

  Cassandra and Jason were here.

  I didn’t know if I should have been relieved or scared out of my mind.

  This is all my fault.

  When the shouting started again, I lay down on the shower tiles and curled myself up into a ball. I heard another crash. I closed my eyes as the tears continued to run down my face. I just wanted it all to go away. I just wanted to go back to the way things were.

  There was no before them. The voice wasn’t giving up.

  There was nothing before Cassandra and Jason.

  There was no before. />
  Quietly, I rocked myself to sleep.

  I barely registered someone nudging me awake.

  “Nikki, come on, Nikki, wake up. It’s going to be all right.”

  I opened my eyes, and it took me a moment to realize that I was staring at my shower tiles. I turned to the voice. It was Cassandra, crouched down next to me, rubbing my shoulder. “How . . . how did you get in here?” Stiffly, I sat up and rubbed my face.

  “It wasn’t easy.” She pointed to the bathroom counter, where a dismantled door knob was lying. “Jason had to find a toolbox before he could get the locking mechanism off.”

  “Where’s Brad?” I asked, not bothering with formalities, or even caring. I was mentally drained and still scared. Scared that my husband was going to run into the bathroom and punch me repeatedly, though violence had never been his thing in the past, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Maybe Cassandra saw this in my face. Maybe she understood, because her face softened as she brushed a wisp of my hair away from my face. “He’s downstairs, Nikki—subdued—with a black eye and probably a cracked rib, courtesy of Jason, who is with him now. Those two really went at it.”

  “Does he know?” My lip started to quiver as I felt another rush of tears push toward the corners of my eyes.

  Cassandra blew out her breath. “Past your new job, he knows nothing, and he never will. But, Nikki”—she paused, and I could tell she was trying to frame her next words— “Jason and I want you to come home with us tonight and stay at our house for the next few days. We feel that this is not the safest environment for you to be in.” She squeezed my hand tightly, and her face was filled with sympathy. “You have been through a lot today, and Brad is only negatively impacting your life right now. Nikki, you are precious to us. We would never forgive ourselves if something happened to you. We love you, sweetie.”

  Unable to stop myself, I burst into tears. Cassandra drew me into her arms, whispering words of comfort while she stroked my hair. She smelled of vanilla and peaches. It was a scent that was all her. Just her embrace alone was having a calming effect on me. I already knew my answer; though, what I didn’t realize was how my decision would change my life, forever.

  “I understand,” I said from the security of her arms. “I want to go. I want to go home with you and Jason,” I sniffled as I sat back and wiped the tears away. “I love you, too.”

  Cassandra smiled her thousand-watt smile, and already my heart felt lighter. “I’ll leave you to get a couple of bags packed. Don’t take too long,” she added, helping me to my feet and out of the shower.

  I glanced down at the bathroom trash can, and as I remembered what was in it, I hung my head in shame. I hadn’t told her that I had disobeyed her, nor had I told her of my other misgivings. Embarrassed, I stumbled over my words while I pointed at the waste bin, “Cassandra, I . . . I . . . um . . .”

  “I know,” she said, and this time her eyes were absent of that stern, unyielding look that meant I had done something wrong. “Nikki,” she began again as she took a step closer to me, placing the lightest of kisses on my lips, “what’s most important right now is that you are safe. And, darling, you will always be safe with Jason and me. I promise. We will talk about this later, when we’re home, but not tonight. Tonight, you need rest. Now, do as I asked, and go pack your bags.”

  My brain was on autopilot as I replied, scarcely above a whisper, “Yes, Mistress.”

  Cassandra kissed me again. “That’s my good girl. Everything’s going to work out for the best, Nikki. You’ll see.”

  I dutifully packed a suitcase and an overnight bag, feeling more like I was preparing for a trip and less like I was staying with family on another estate across the golf course. As I made my way downstairs, I found Brad sitting at the dining room table with a bag of frozen vegetables over one of his eyes. Jason was sitting across from him, talking quietly, while Cassandra stood off to the side with her arms crossed. The remains of dinner were untouched, from my half-eaten salmon to the hideous red wine stain on the wall behind my chair. In the distant recesses of my brain, I wondered who was going to clean up the mess.

  Jason stopped talking once he saw me.

  Cassandra looked up and uncrossed her arms.

  Brad and I locked gazes.

  It was hard to pinpoint what I was feeling at that moment, but just the mere weight of his stare caused my chest to tighten. I was the one who had cheated on him, and as I far as I knew, he was still none the wiser—my only transgression being my newfound employment. But, I was still cheating on him—willingly—and yet, somehow his crossing the line toward physical violence, over my audacity to get a job in the first place, felt like more of a betrayal in my eyes.

  What was wrong with me? Were my morals that corrupt? Not knowing what to do next, I fidgeted at the bottom of the steps, desperate to get out of my own house.

  Jason muttered a few words to Brad, which must have had the desired effect because he glanced away from me without so much as a word.

  Quietly Cassandra and Jason walked toward me, leaving Brad alone at the table. A part of me felt sorry for him and the current state of our marriage. But when Jason touched my hand to take my suitcases, a jolt of electricity coursed through my veins. I desired him like no other man—not even my husband. And as for Cassandra? We left the house with her hand in mine, a firm but secure reminder that I was hers, heart and soul, and she knew it.

  I didn’t even turn around to see what Brad’s expression was or if he was even watching us. I didn’t care anymore. I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to simply close my eyes and sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. Little did I know then that the next time I would see my husband, it would be under much different circumstances.

  I awoke Wednesday morning to the feeling of hot, wet heat between my legs and the fiery, tingling sensation that only comes with the slow, steamy build of a pending orgasm.

  “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” Cassandra murmured with her head nestled just below the tuft of hair on top of my mound. Lazily she lapped at my clit with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth.

  “Oh God . . . ,” I groaned as I wove my hands into her hair.

  “Not, ‘oh God,’ ” Cassandra teased playfully but then firmly smacked my pussy with her hand, “it’s ‘oh, Mistress.’ ”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I immediately replied. I would do anything, so long as she didn’t stop.

  “I think Nikki needs to do something with that mouth of hers.” Cassandra pushed a finger into my wet hole, and instinctively I clenched down, quivering around it.

  “Indeed, she does,” was Jason’s husky reply.

  I was so caught up in Cassandra eating my pussy that I hadn’t even noticed Jason hovering nearby, naked and hard, stroking himself.

  Climbing up onto their massive bed, Jason nudged my lips open with the purplish mushroom head of his cock. “I can’t think of a better way to start the day. Can you, my darling?”

  “No, not a one, my love,” Cassandra answered him and then proceeded to work a second finger inside of me while licking and sucking on my clit.

  I muffled my approval around Jason’s cock as the anxiety and tension from the night before drifted away into a distant memory. My only thoughts now were of pleasure and how much I never wanted the feelings I was experiencing to end.

  Together, we moved in a rhythm all our own as our sexual crescendo continued to rise. Jason was getting close to his release. I could sense it in the way that he held my head with his hands as his lustful grunts grew louder. I tried not to concentrate on my own pleasure; I didn’t want to come early. I wanted them to be pleased with me.

  “Commiinnnnggg . . . ,” Jason grunted as he released himself into my mouth.

  Greedily I sucked him down, reveling in how he watched me as I looked up at him while milking his cock.

  Don’t come, I thought to myself, not yet. The fire that had started from my toes was rolling up over my body, threatening to spill over at any second
. I let Jason’s cock slip from my mouth, and I grabbed fistfuls of the sheets as Cassandra furiously pumped her fingers in and out of me while nipping and sucking on my clit.

  “Are you ready to come for her, Nikki,” Jason asked as he pinched and pulled my nipples upward. “Are you ready to come for your mistress?”

  “Yes, Master,” I garbled. “I’m ready. Please let me come. Please,” I begged. I didn’t know if I could endure another spanking, and I didn’t want to find out. My thighs were starting to betray me as they quaked around Cassandra’s head.

  “Come for me, Nikki. Come . . . now,” Cassandra ordered, and I felt the intrusion of a wet finger slide deep into my ass.

  That was all it took.

  I hollered out my pleasure in abrupt gasps while Cassandra worked my body over with her fingers and tongue. My pussy contracted again as my juices squirted out of me when she added a second finger into my ass, working it in deep. I thought I was going to faint from the intensity of pain mixed with pleasure as I basked in the aftereffects of my climax.

  “Good girl, Nikki,” Cassandra complimented me as she withdrew her fingers from my holes. “It might take a couple of weeks, but eventually Jason is going to conquer this delicious ass of yours”—her eyes were dark with lust— “if I don’t claim it for myself first.” She pointed to a hefty strap-on that was sitting on top of the nightstand as if that was the most natural place in the world to leave such a commanding sex toy.

  I gulped while my eyes roamed over its length and girth, but I realized that, despite its size, it still wasn’t as big as Jason’s cock when he was hard. I couldn’t even imagine my body stretching to accommodate it, let alone him.

  “All in good time.” Jason leaned down and kissed me softly. “You’re perfect, Nikki. You’re perfect for us. And you are making us very happy.” Gently he stroked my cheek and then touched the gold chain around my neck. “Go get a shower. Your mistress will help you get dressed for work.”