Traded for Love

by Michelle Hughes

  My fingernails sunk into his skin.

  We were lost in the plunge. I wasn't thinking of my husband, or my daughter, or my duties. Somewhere in between the moments James spent screaming my name as he violated the sanctity of my marriage, as he pillaged the aching depths of my body, I stopped caring.

  I had so many orgasms that I lost count, experienced things I'd never felt before … and all with another man.

  And for the first time ever, I felt … free.

  Two hours and another bout of lovemaking later, we were both exhausted. James had fallen asleep, but I hadn't. While he'd been sleeping, I'd been crying. It couldn't be helped. Something had happened to me, to the way I saw my marriage. The lenses through which I viewed it were decidedly less rose-colored.

  I caught sight of James' face as I slid out of the bed. My knees shook under my weight. I was beyond sore.

  Even though I'd consented to this, even though I'd done it to please Jack, I left apart of myself in that bed, a piece of me that had broken away.

  Whether or not I could go home and face the life I'd had before I'd gone to James, I wasn't sure. One thing I knew, was that I'd been altered by the experience.

  But does it matter? I thought.

  In the end, I had obeyed my master. I'd allowed someone to use me under his orders. I had done my duty.

  Searching for my dress, I remembered that James had removed it in the office.

  I jumped when James' hand touched my arm. “Going so soon?”

  “I think it's time,” I said, not turning to face him.

  “It's too bad you won't be coming back in the future,” he said, his fingers tracing down to my hand.

  “So you won't make him send me again?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I hoped that this time might have convinced you to return.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said, pulling away from him. “I didn't want to come here, and—”

  “You don't have to explain,” he interrupted. I felt his weight shift behind me. “Just tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Didn't you feel a connection, even for a moment?”

  My eyelids fell shut. “No, James. I didn't. It felt good. I admit that, but there was no connection.” A rogue tear escaped my eye. “I love my husband, even if he … even if he … ” I sniffed. “I'm sorry. I've got to go.”

  I tore from the bed, snatching my shoes off the bedroom carpet and hurriedly entering the office to re-dress. I carried my shoes and ran through the office doorway, down the stairs and out the front entrance.

  The fresh air assaulted my lungs as I looked around for the car. Dante was standing, leaning against the hood, swiping around on his phone.

  I couldn't get back to the car fast enough.

  Dante, being the professional he was, didn't bother asking questions.

  Maybe he even knew, I thought to myself, trying not to vomit from the sheer embarrassment that someone—anyone—might know what I'd done … what my husband had asked me to do.

  I dozed off all the way home. It was an hour before we arrived. As we rolled to a stop in the driveway, Dante tapped on the partition before getting out. By the time he opened the door for me, I'd put my shoes on and set my dress to rights.

  I was overwhelmed by the desire to hug my daughter, to be fully planted back into the world I'd been ordered to betray.

  The house felt oddly foreign as I walked through the front door.

  Donna's face peeked over the second-floor bannister. “Mrs. Duncan.” She smiled. “Katherine just drifted off to sleep.” My heart sunk at those words. “Did you have a nice time?” she asked.

  I wasn't sure how to reply. “I did. Thank you.”

  “Mr. Duncan is in his office. He told me to pass along the message that he wanted you to go directly in to him when you arrive.”

  My chest grew heavy. “Thank you, Donna. I'll see him shortly.”

  Donna, clueless as to the implications of my meeting with Stratford, and what Jack might have wanted with me, smiled and went back into the nursery.

  I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head. He'll have to wait, I thought.

  Disobeying his order, I went into our room and removed the garments that still held James' scent. I had half a mind to order the dress, stockings and shoes be burnt. Instead, I decided I would donate them, and threw them in the hamper.

  Before I could see Jack, I needed a long shower. The piping hot water did well to cleanse me of all physical evidence, but the mental and emotional dirt was still there.

  Any stillness and silence brought back the memory of James' hands, and his voice.

  It frightened me.

  What if I never forgot? What if I couldn't go back?

  Down the hall I went, anticipating that he'd be angry. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It'd been an hour since I'd gotten home. There was a high likelihood that Jack would get mad because I'd disobeyed, but it hardly mattered. My belief was that he wouldn't do much more than yell at me—which I could take.

  I went in without knocking. After all, he was expecting me.

  On his desk was an empty bottle of Highland Park 30. He had black circles under his eyes. He never had come to bed the previous night.

  “Jack … have you slept since yesterday?” I asked, stepping forward in concern. His vacant expression suggested he hadn't. “Jack?”

  “Did you do it?” he asked, his gaze meeting mine.

  I brought my hands down in front of me and wrung them nervously. “Yes.”

  He stood up and seemed to sway as he stood there. “Did he fuck you?”

  The harshness in his tone scared me. “I … ”

  “Did he fuck you!” he shouted, causing me to jump. The wild anger in his voice made me back up.

  “Y—yes,” I said.

  His chest rose and fell rapidly. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Wh—what?” I stammered, utterly shocked.

  “I asked you a fucking question,” he growled.

  “Jack … I … ”

  “Answer the goddamn question.” His eyes were on fire.

  My breaths were shallow as I mustered the courage to answer. “No.”

  “You're lying!” he screamed, throwing the Highland Park bottle at the wall so it shattered.

  “I'm not lying,” I said meekly.

  “But it felt good. You liked it when he fucked you, didn't you?” The ire in his voice didn't escape me. “Admit it!” he yelled. “Admit it!”

  I hated the way he was yelling at me. He had no right to get mad at me for doing what he'd ordered me to do.

  “Yes!” I answered, finally. “Are you happy now!? Yes! I liked it when he fucked me! It felt good!” In my fervor, I'd clenched my hands into fists at my sides.

  Without warning, he came barreling straight for me.

  My momentary strength dissolved, and I cowered, stumbling as I began to retreat.

  Before I could escape, he grabbed my wrist and threw me against his desk. My ribs crashed against the desktop and all the implements on its surface.

  Suddenly his hands jerked the brim of my skirt up to my waist. In one fluid motion he'd shoved his cock inside me.

  I cried out in pain and surprise.

  “Shut up!” he ordered as he began thrusting. “Shut the fuck up!”

  There was nothing pleasurable about this, nothing at all. The flat of his hand was between my shoulder-blades, pinning me to the table.

  “Jack! You're hurting me!”

  “I said Shut UP!” he bellowed, slapping my ass so hard that I cried out.

  “Please, Jack,” I begged as tears fell from my eyes onto the papers crowding his desk.

  He kept fucking me, relentlessly pounding away at my pussy. I grit my teeth and braced my hips as he continued. I just hoped it would end, that fucking me in this way would satisfy his anger.

  Finally he pulled out and marked me with his cum.

  He breathed hard and fast as he
lifted his hand off my back.

  I lay there for a moment absorbing what had happened.

  “You're mine. Do you understand? You don't feel pleasure unless I tell you to.”

  My vision was blurred by tears, my muscles slack, my insides numb. I answered, “Yes, Master.”

  (Jack)

  I own you, I thought as I watched her lying across my desk.

  My heart burned as I thought those words.

  She lifted away from the stacks of papers that had scattered beneath her. Though her arms shook as she tried to support herself, I didn't help her.

  She deserved it … for liking it. I never told her to like it. This was her fault.

  “Go shower,” I ordered.

  When she turned, her face was devoid of emotion. There were dark pits under her eyes. Her cheeks were red and her eyes glassy. “Yes, Master.”

  I felt no remorse. I'd always been hard on her, always relentless in my quest to make her obey. As a Dominant, my quest had always been to subjugate her, to make her bend to my will. It wasn't until I'd sent her to J.B. that I knew I'd broken her.

  Now, more than ever, I realized that the part of her that I'd fallen in love with, her innocence, her vitality, her freshness, was gone.

  She walked out of the room and I knew I should have felt bad. I should have known that this whole thing would destroy her, yet I'd used her. I'd made her into my whore.

  She was no better than Julia now.

  The Stranger

  (Emily)

  I woke up the next morning in an empty bed. When I rolled over, I noticed his side of our king-sized bed was still made.

  Sighing, I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.

  I'd been hollowed out by my experience with J.B. and then the subsequent experience with Jack.

  You're an idiot, I told myself as tears stung my eyes. You thought you could make him love you and all you did was make him mad. You shouldn't have lashed out.

  I wished I could take it all back, that I could step back into my body at the moment Jack had asked me to go to J.B. I wish I had begged him not to make me do it.

  But would he have listened?

  Jack was an unstoppable beast who couldn't be tamed, and it was blindingly evident that he would go to any lengths to get what he wanted.

  He'd sacrificed me on the altar of his dreams. And there I was after it all, burned, scarred … changed.

  Katherine started to cry down the hall, so I got up and slid on my matte satin robe. She quieted down as I neared the room. Donna was there tending to her.

  I was surprised. “You came in early.”

  “I thought it'd be nice to give you the morning off.” The wrinkles around her eyes creased as she smiled.

  “I'll be meeting my sister for lunch and then I was thinking about going to a bookstore. What do you like to read, Donna?” I asked, sitting in the plush recliner on the far side of the nursery.

  She sat down with the baby, feeding her formula from a bottle. “Me?” She rocked slowly. “I like everything: romance, philosophy, science.”

  “You're smarter than me. I stick to my romance novels,” I said with a grin.

  “I bet even the best fiction doesn't compare with your real life.” Her smile was unrelenting. “You must take all kinds of trips and get lots of expensive gifts.” She sighed. “What a life.”

  It'd never occurred to me that Donna had been present for most of my marriage. Obviously, she was clueless to how things really were between Jack and me. I nodded. “Yeah. What a life … ”

  “You don't sound too thrilled,” she said as she repositioned the baby in her lap to give her better access to the formula.

  “Nothing is all good or all bad.” I hoped the statement was ambiguous enough to satisfy her while masking my doubts. “Mr. Duncan can be … a little forceful sometimes.” It was more than I should have said. Confiding in her seemed was startlingly easy.

  “I'm sure it's more good than bad, though,” she said. I knew she was trying to cheer me up, and when I couldn't summon a smile, her own melted away. “I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. Your marriage is none of my business.”

  I pursed my lip. “No, no. We had a little spat and I'm not happy about it,” I lied. “Mr. Duncan is a good husband and father.” The words tasted sour on my tongue. Calling him a good anything at this point didn't seem accurate.

  Donna was quiet after that. I hoped she couldn't hear the uncertainty in my voice. “I think I'll get going. Thank you for coming in early. When I get home from the bookstore, you can go home early if you want.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Duncan.” She lay Katherine against her shoulder.

  I nodded and left the room, walking back down the hall to my room. It'd been months since I'd seen Kim, but I never felt obliged to dress up for her, even on days like this when having lunch with her felt like a special occasion.

  Since Dante was gone with the car, I took a cab down Main Street and told the driver to stop in front of a strip of shops. To conserve space on the island, there weren't many one-story buildings. This collection of tall, narrow outlets was no exception. A bakery was on the far end, followed by a bistro, then a dry cleaners, and lastly came the bookstore I wanted to visit later.

  Its front window was full of ads for all the new releases. There was one romance in particular that caught my eye through the glass window. If I hadn't been scheduled to meet Kim in five minutes, I would have gone in immediately.

  The bistro was full, not a surprising fact, since we'd decided to meet during the lunch rush.

  She was early. I caught sight of her sitting at a table on the restaurant's far wall. Though I waved, she didn't notice me until I wove through the crowds and reached her. She stood up and hugged me.

  “I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you,” she said. When I pulled away, she appraised me like she usually did. “Tell me how you're doing.”

  “I'm fine. How are you doing? How's the center doing?” I asked, setting my purse in the floor and hailing the waiter. He drifted up beside us. “Could I have a Long Island Iced Tea and a water, please?”

  The waiter nodded and moved down the line of tables.

  Though I was unwilling to admit it, I craved relaxation, especially after last night. I opened my menu. “What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, the center. Have you heard from Marcus lately?”

  Marcus had been Kim's pet project for the past few months. She'd had a lot of cases, but finding a job for Marcus, a veteran, meant more to her than I think even she knew. “He called the other day. He got promoted at the docks, and he's signed up for night classes,” she said brightly.

  “That's awesome news!”

  “Yeah, he also has this cute girlfriend. I think they're getting serious.” She sipped her water. “Speaking of lovers. How are you and Jack doing?” She always asked that question. It was as if she expected something to be going on.

  The waiter returned with my drinks and took our food orders. “Fine,” I answered, once he'd gone.

  “Are you really fine?” She locked eyes with me.

  “Yes.” I know I sounded more irate than usual.

  “Emily.” Her sharp tone brought me to attention. “You're drinking at lunch. You're pale. You're underweight. It doesn't matter if you tell me what's happening, just tell me what you're going to do about it.”

  My face sunk, my eyes falling shut. “Jack is just under a lot of pressure because of the campaign.”

  “I didn't ask about him. I asked about you. The fact that you're talking about him means that his behavior is impacting you in some way,” she reasoned.

  “Well, that's normal, isn't it? A husband's behavior is supposed to impact his wife,” I pointed out.

  “He should be taking care of you. You don't look well at all.” She sipped her water.

  “So, we get together for the first time in months and you say I look like crap and you accuse my husband of causing it?” I frowned.

  “No. Look, I'm sorry. I'm
just worried about you.” She reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “I guess this campaign is taking a toll on you both. You must be helping him a lot, so that his dream can come true.”

  I stared as the ice bobbed around in my drink. I remembered what he'd made me do with J.B. “Yeah.”

  “Well, as long as you say things are fine, I believe you. We've spent way too long apart. We can't let this happen again. I promise, from now on, I'll be better about calling.” She grasped my hand. “And please, if the stress ever gets to you, pick up the phone. I love you way too much to go without hearing your voice for long.”

  She smiled in the genuine way she always did. There was very little about Kim that was not genuine. It was one of the things I loved most about her.

  I probably shouldn't have been as happy as I was to get out of the restaurant. Kim was sad to see me go, but since she'd blamed Jack for me looking “not well at all,” I'd been secretly frustrated with her.

  If I could have been honest with myself, and I seldom ever was, he was the cause of my stress. I was having trouble sleeping and eating, all because of my encounter with J.B. And what had followed. There was an ugly word attached to what he'd done to me in his office. I didn't want to use it, not even in my private thoughts, because it was confusing to call it that. I'd pledged myself to be his submissive slave, his slut, and weren't submissives supposed to take their punishment without protesting?

  I shed an unexpected tear, but before I could wipe it away, the wind off the East River whipped it into my hair. The sidewalk was full of people bustling around. Embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to succumb to strong emotions, I hustled down to the bookstore and stepped in.

  My eyes ached as I made for the bathroom. I stared at my face in the brass-framed mirror, determined to keep myself from breaking. My relationship with Jack existed that way because it was for the best—or at least that's what I'd convinced myself.

  Of course, lately it seemed like all of my old decisions were coming back to haunt me.

  I gathered my wits about me and went back into the high-ceilinged common area. Fleeing from my own emotions had kept me from admiring the splendor. The whole place was done in a modern industrial style, yet the furnishings were plush and comfortable. Above me was a second level full to the brim with stocked shelves.