Her emotions were wildly all over the place by the time he finished his speech. All she could do was order him away from her. “Leave, please, now! Go! Go. I never want to see you again. Go!” She could hold back her tears only so long, and slumping to the stone bench, she covered her face with her hands. If she hoped that he would offer up some kindness, some tender mercy so she could spit it back in his face with all the guile she felt, she’d be disappointed.
When she looked up next, he was far in the distance, hiking back down the path toward the estate house and disappearing into the woods.
Chapter Five
The following spring…
“I’m going into town,” Madeleine announced as she passed by Robbie’s office. She looked in, seeing that he was intently working on his list of phone calls for the Children’s Hospital Charity. “Do you need anything?”
He looked up and smiled, a little absently at first.
“Ah, right, it’s Wednesday! And what a beautiful day. You should enjoy your afternoon.”
“And you really should get some fresh air yourself. You know the saying about all work and no play…”
“Oh, am I getting dull?”
“No, not dull at all, darling. Your charm knows no bounds.”
“Right, I’m sure you feel that way,” he said with a wry grin. “Like last night, I suppose?”
Ouch! She hadn’t meant to land on such a sensitive subject, but it seemed so easy now. He had done his best to be intimate with her the night before, but in six months since he was released from the hospital, any physical exchanges were more affectionate than sexual.”
“Robbie, please, I had a wonderful time last night.”
“Did you, really?”
She moved into the room and stood behind him, gently massaging his shoulders and running her hands along his face.
“I did. Being close to you like that, you have no idea how much I crave your touch.” She bent down and hugged him from behind, giving his cheek an affectionate kiss. Then she pulled away and moved to the front of his desk. When he wasn’t in pain, he could be just as handsome as he was when they first met.
He smiled a little more sincerely this time. Perhaps for the moment, she’d dodged a bullet.
“You go have a nice time…what? Coffee with a friend today?”
“I’m stopping by the grocery store and the book store, then maybe have coffee with Gwen if she’s free. Although I might just get lost in the bookstore,” her eyes lit, “you never know with me.”
“But you’ll be home by dinner?”
“Of course.” She dashed toward the door and blew him a kiss. “I’ll be back by seven.”
Wednesdays were her afternoon off. At Robbie’s insistence she left the Endowment to him while she indulged in some precious free time to herself. She might talk about her friend Gwen—who she rarely saw—the bookstore, the grocery or the spa she infrequently visited for a massage. But rarely were those the activities that took up her Wednesday afternoons. Having spent her first two free afternoons poking around town for things to keep her busy, on the third Wednesday, she bypassed town altogether and started down the highway, driving sixty miles at an almost reckless speed, having no idea where she’d go or when she’d stop. Thoughts about running away were so vivid inside her mind that she was surprised to find herself suddenly turning off the highway and driving into a small town. There was not a thought in her head about what she’d do next. But as soon as she spotted a liquor store, she stopped the car, went inside and purchased a bottle of Blue Sky Vodka, a wheel of Brie and a package of fancy crackers—the best they offered in this tacky burgh. She paid in cash, then doubled back to a cheap motel she’d spotted just as she arrived in town. She paid cash there too, giving the desk clerk quite an eyeful. Her dark hair was hidden by a scarf and her eyes covered in large dark sunglasses. Wearing black slacks and a black cashmere sweater, she mimicked old Hollywood so effectively that she nearly doubled over with laughter when she looked at her reflection in the motel mirror once she was inside her room. The subterfuge was so dramatic that she used it nearly every Wednesday afternoon when she decided that her bottle of Vodka and the cheap motel were better entertainment than moseying her way through the same bleak stores in town she’d already been to a dozen times.
Booze would not be her only entertainment. She ignored the seedy interior of the motel, the ratty curtains, the TV that barely worked, and downed several drinks in the plastic cup provided before she stopped to consider what she was doing. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, gazing into the mirror while waiting for the liquor to work through her system. At first it seemed to have little effect, then suddenly a pleasant, dreamy feeling of inebriation hit her. Staring into the mirror she laughed again at her folly, then for a while, almost sobered by the reckless act, she simply studied her face. What next? Wait until she was sober enough and drive home? What was the point, the desire, the need? If she were waiting for a lover to join her this might be reasonable behavior, but without that motivation, it seemed no more than another meaningless activity, spurred on by a current of unrest she’d been feeling for some weeks.
She finally moved to the clock radio beside the bed, and tuned in to a local station that played Indy rock. Though she was not particularly familiar with the style, something about the beat and the thin, quaint voices of the singers worked its way through her, much like the liquor had. She began to move while feeling her body in its every minute detail: the muscles, the flesh, the blood beating through her veins, the feel of the air on her skin—on her face first, then as she slowly removed her clothes, on her arms and legs. Having shucked her blouse and slacks, she was left dancing in her pink stilettos, bra and panties, as she watched her breasts jiggle so evocatively that a rush of desire shot through her as she reached back and unhooked the bra to release the voluptuous mounds. She’d never looked at herself in such an erotic way, and though she nearly climaxed from the shuddering feelings lifting through her body she vowed to hold off. If this was what she needed to do then she’d draw the moments out, letting a powerful orgasm build. Her breathing deepened as she caressed her heated skin. How strange it was to feel her body with her own hands. No mistaking where this would lead, one single finger was soon tugging at her panties and drawing them down across her undulating belly and the neat trimmed bush below. Quaking with desire she practically stumbled from her high heels.
Even as the liquor swam through her body, she tried to sober her mind enough to steady herself. She remained on her feet, making friends with the mirror, while in her mind’s eye she imagined a man just outside her line of vision looking on at the sexy exhibition. Though that man would remain a figment of her fertile imagination, he felt as real as a man made of bones and flesh and blood. She could hear him speaking to her, urging her to move in ways that would tease his erection to life. She played his game; her intention to make him hard and hot and ready to fuck her on the spot; if only he’d risen from his phantom existence and stepped into the motel room to take her body inside his forceful hands. The fantasy was in danger of disintegrating at this point, but by the time she got this far, her desire was just too great to put off any longer. She opened the covers, and lying down on the white sheets, her hand aggressively moved between her thighs. As soon as her fingers touched her clit, the first in a series of climaxes began. With just the slightest provocation, she spasmed hard, then hard again. Frantic, focused and demanding, her climax went as if it would never end. She clutched at her pussy with hands assaulting the hole with a violent force, her clit squeezed until the shock of it sent her into another round of persistent orgasms. After a time, the energy turned sensuous, flowing through her body more naturally. It was then that the man in the room returned to her in the same threatening visions. “Pinch your clit, your nipples and don’t let go…” When she heard his orders she obediently obeyed.
The self-fuck went on for nearly an hour until at last there was no more energy left, and her body let out an en
ormous sigh.
She refused to touch herself, and closing down the voice inside her head, she suddenly shot up from the bed, exhausted but unwilling to put herself through more masturbation. She needed another drink, and this one soothed her. No more arousal. No more pressing need. At last she breathed easily, realizing that the astounding episode was finally over. If she’d been sober at all, she would have hurriedly dressed and fled the room, but she was drunk enough to know that she couldn’t drive and she’d have to wait.
The remnants of that warm April afternoon were all around her. Long shadows from the sun played out against the grimy walls creating an almost magical glow in that otherwise squalid room. A mellow laziness moved through her now, so different from the sexual urgency that brought her to this place, but equally erotic.
She turned on the TV to pass the time, flipping through grainy channels until she came to an afternoon talk show about teenaged mothers. She watched with passive interest as time ticked by, then as soon as the evening news came on, she went to the bathroom to sponge down her sex soaked body and get dressed.
Home by seven. She’d promised Robbie. It would be at least an hour on a busy highway before she reached the estate, even then she was likely to be late. She had no time to reflect on how she’d spent her afternoon, or make up plausible lies about her day to tell her husband, although soon enough, both would be necessary.
Every Wednesday afternoon, Madeleine repeated the scene with the booze, the motel room, and her raunchy masturbations. Although she never went to the same place two weeks in a row, she had her favorite haunts that she returned to repeatedly. And the masturbations, while ending with the same fiercely violent come, had plenty of permutations to keep each one unique. She never knew where the next would lead or what kinky acts awaited. That was province of her phantom lover to decide, and to whatever he ordered, she submissively acquiesced. Sometimes she spanked her ass with a hairbrush; on another occasion she used the brush on her naked pussy. Using clothesline, she tied her body into intricate patterns of bondage, then pulled the ropes tightly against her flesh until the pain was almost unbearable, and she left deep ridges in her skin. Several times she managed to tie her hands behind her back and force herself to come without touching her private parts. Wriggling against the sheets, she fucked pillows between her legs or rubbed her clitoris lewdly against the edge of the dresser, finally getting off—sometimes accompanied by an alarming degree of pain.
She often imagined herself tied in more extreme forms of bondage from which she could not escape, or fantasized about lovers she’d seduced to her motel room where she’d be subject to beatings and punishment and rough tongue-lashings from these angry dominants. The nasty turns her mind would take shocked the more sexually timid Madeleine into believing that her desire for depravity knew no boundaries.
She often wondered if her strange behavior was what Daniel Prothero had in mind about making accommodations for her lust.
Although she was never daring enough to engage other lovers or put herself into risky bondage, that didn’t stop the wilder fantasies from making their demands on her with such doggedness that over time she could feel her resistance to such things breaking down. This became her game: ignore her first thoughts about some new and perverse sex play; let it tease her for weeks, building steam, until she could finally no longer avoid it.
One Wednesday afternoon, she drank more than usual from her bottle of expensive Vodka. The man in her mind had big ideas, as big as the huge-ass dildo that he demanded she buy before she arrived at her motel room. It took an especially long time for her to locate a porn store where she could purchase the thing. Stores like that were few and far between, and for her own peace of mind, she needed to travel far enough from home so she’d not be spotted by someone she knew going into such a seedy place. It would have been much simpler to have ordered the dildo on the Internet. But she avoided that solution. Even though she could have explained the purchase to Robbie—who wouldn’t have minded in the slightest—she feared opening the door to her secret life to him or anyone. He was not a part of her private fantasies and she didn’t want him knowing what lengths she went to in order to feed a lust so rapacious. He didn’t now what secrets she harbored in her sexual mind before his injury and he certainly wouldn’t now.
Many times, she had considered the possibility of confessing the truth to Robbie. He could have even been that man on the sidelines watching. It might have satisfied that twisted corner of his psyche, but what real pleasure could Robbie derive for himself? How empty it would have been for him to have only been on the sidelines and never really part of the game? No, she wouldn’t subject him to that kind of frustration.
Madeleine finally found the thick seven inch dildo in a porn store two hours north of home, and because it had taken her so long to find it, she was unable to check into a motel room that afternoon. This scene would have to wait another week. Stuffing the bulky thing deep inside her purse until she was safely in her bedroom, she then hid it in the back of a closet where Robbie could never go. The following Wednesday, once she stashed the thing inside her purse, the phallus seemed to take on a life of its own. It belonged to that imaginary lover, not her. Already she could hear its demands floating into her thoughts. When she suddenly turned into a Walgreen’s, she knew exactly what she needed to do, and after a good deal of poking around for the item she wanted, she finally found the enema bag at the far end of one aisle buried on the bottom shelf. So self-absorbed, she seemed barely conscious of her actions as she paid at the checkout, leaving the clerk to wonder if the woman was high on drugs, or maybe a little ‘off’.
Madeleine arrived at the motel wearing the same black costume she wore nearly every week; her head covered in a scarf and a pair of large sunglasses covering nearly half her face. The items she needed for the scene were stuffed into a large straw bag, and once she was safely in her motel room, she dumped her treasures out on the bed and stared at them for a long time. She could already hear the voice shouting out orders. Finally, almost in a panic, she grabbed the enema bag, she went to the bathroom. After clamping the hose tightly, she filled the red rubber bladder and hung it on the shower rod. Then she swiftly undressed—her urgent need had given her the marching orders she was obliged to obey. Working feverishly with the buttons of her blouse, her agitation swelled—everything must be done in perfect order according to her phantom master’s wishes.
Her clothes were tossed into a heap on the floor—no time to hang them in the closet—and by the time she finally stepped into the bathtub to begin the scene, her entire body was shaking. She bent over and reached back, opening her ass cheeks and shoving the nozzle into her dry, tight ass. The voice was clear—no lube, maybe later—he couldn’t have been more clear.
The tightness of the impalement scared her, but the excitement behind the act was so arousing that she refused to back off. Once releasing the valve on the hose, the warm water rushed into her bowels, and she nearly orgasmed from the powerful sensations. She heard her muted moans, while a feeling of relief seemed to ease her nerves. Although the entire scene was profoundly disturbing, the wildness of these savage acts of submission submerged her in so much erotic pleasure that she could not veer from the plan. When the enema bag was finally empty, she crouched in the tub, letting her belly and bowels settle. Urged by that phantom lover, she endured long minutes of waiting and deep cramping sensations that were almost too much to bear. Each time her rational mind urged her to scramble to the toilet, the pain would miraculously back off and her discomfort would temporarily subside. Finally in a reasoned whisper the voice came to her again, granting her permission to use the toilet. There was no scrambling, no frantic movements, every sensation must be appreciated and the depths of her surrender acknowledged, nothing was to be ignored. After expelling the liquid, she cleaned herself and returned to the bedroom. Only then did she realize that the entire enema had taken place while she was completely sober. The bottle of Vodka stood unopened, next
to it the plastic glass and the bucket of ice. To think, she’d felt as drunk on her desire as she would have been after two dry martinis.
Believing that the most unpleasant part of the scenario over, Madeleine was now free to relax and enjoy the liquor before she continued with her long afternoon of sexual pleasure. She turned on the radio as she had before then poured a drink and wandered toward the bed, doing a little dance as she did.
Two drinks later, Madeleine heard the voice calling to her again.
“Don’t bother with your cunt today, slut. You’ll stuff the dildo in your ass.”
She heard the command and her body quaked reflexively. She knew this was coming, even though she’d rather get off as she usually did. However, it was impossible to argue with a phantom lodged inside her mind, and it was clear to her now that this act was what that phantom lover had been aiming for all the time, where all these many sessions in seedy motels were leading.
She’d had the dildo for a week, but she’d barely looked at it. Still locked inside the plastic package it seemed safe enough, but the demand was clear. As soon as she pried it from the package, the foul thing brought back all those times Robbie had tried to take her ass with little or no success—every time he pressed his thumb against the anal opening during sex, she seized up and ordered him away. After a year or two together, he’d been more insistent in his demands, reasoning with her, making a solemn promise to be gentle. “They’ll be no pain,” he insisted. Lots of lube and tender probing finally allowed her to open some, but when it came to shoving the head of his hard erection into her tight anus, her body was remarkably consistent. He gave up trying—until the next time, months later, when the urge to take her ass rose up in him again and with a little cajoling he managed to win her reluctant cooperation.
Punishable Offenses Page 8