As I looked around, I couldn’t help but wonder why, with our downtown apartment and large estate outside of Miami, was this extra residence necessary? Silently, he led me down the stairs. When the staircase turned, my gaze settled on the area of the room that was not visible from the entry. My curiosity turned to horror as my heartbeat intensified and my footsteps stalled. Taking in the raised platform containing a large four-poster bed, bile rose in my throat. Near the platform was one large, overstuffed chair.
Though the contract had outlined specifics regarding consent for sexual activities, up until that moment, Stewart had never proposed anything that I deemed out of the ordinary. With everything he initiated, I’d willingly followed. There was no doubt that he’d taken me to places I’d never been. However, I innately knew that there was something vile about the scene before me.
Tugging my hand, he encouraged my steps. “Don’t stop now, Mrs. Harrington.”
“Stewart? What is this?”
“This is where my fantasies come true.”
My neck straightened as I tried to comprehend. “I-I don’t understand? We have sex. We have a lot of sex. Why do you need an apartment for it? What’s wrong with our home?”
Though my mind spun, my feet continued to move. Nearing the bed, he said, “I’m not complaining about our sex life, Victoria. I like what we do at home. This is different. This is why I married you. This is what our contract was about.”
The contract came back to me: clauses and addendums. One particular sentence came back: outside the experience. What the hell?
“Stewart, what happens here? What do you expect of me?”
“Nothing has happened here since our agreement. I’m not sleeping with other women, if that’s what you’re asking. I did before we met. I have needs.” He directed me to sit upon the bed and touched my cheek. With a difference in his tone, he continued, “As of late, Mrs. Harrington, most of those needs have been very well met.”
“Most?” My stomach continued to churn. “Just say it. What do you think I’ll do here?”
His grin twisted. “I know what you’ll do here. You’ll do as I say. We have a contract, a legally binding agreement.”
“I-I still don’t—”
He touched my lips. “I’ve maintained my side of our deal. You have my name, access to my money. Your sister has been accepted at Johns Hopkins.” He tilted his head. “Have I denied you anything?”
“N-No,” I answered with obvious trepidation.
“And you will not deny me. I told you before that if something made you uncomfortable, I would be there for you. You’ll never be here alone. I’ll always be here.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand! Why wouldn’t you be here? If I’m supposed to do something, something to do with sex…” my words trailed away as the upheaval in my stomach became impossible to ignore. A quick look to the side showed me a door. I prayed it contained what I needed as I bolted from the bed, flung the door wide, and vomited my dinner in the toilet.
With my head pounding and my body shaking, I moved to the sink and, cupping water, rinsed my mouth. With my head on the sink, I turned toward my husband and demanded, “Just say it!” My volume rose. “Don’t make my imagination take me places I don’t want to be.”
Reaching for my hand, he helped me stand upright. “Where exactly is that beautiful imagination going?”
I already knew that Stewart enjoyed watching me pleasure myself. Often, he’d encourage me to masturbate, even introducing me to use toys so that he could watch as I came apart. “It’s something about watching, isn’t it? That’s why there’s a chair. Please tell me that there’ll be no one else here besides us.”
“I can’t.”
My brows rose as I repeated, “You can’t?”
“You’re a beautiful woman. I’ve told you how many men want you. I wasn’t lying. They do. And I love watching those beautiful lips cry out. I want to be the one orchestrating; I want to watch as other men use you. I want to be the one to give you that pleasure.”
“No!”
“No?” he quirked. “Mrs. Harrington, that word was removed from your vocabulary the day you signed my contract.”
“I-I can’t. I don’t want to be with other men. I want to be with you.” At that moment, even that wasn’t true.
“And you will. You’ll be with me. I still want to be with you. The idea of watching is making me hard right now. I bet if I lifted the skirt of that pretty little dress, I’d find that you’re wet thinking about it.”
“I’m not!” I answered honestly. “Who? Who are you willing to share me with?”
“You see, that was the part that had me stumped. When it was prostitutes, it didn’t matter. But as my wife, you’re expected to be on my arm.” He placed my petite hand in the crook of his arm and led me back to the bed. “And I like having you there. I’ve decided it would be better for you not to know.”
What the hell?
“That doesn’t make any sense. How could I possibly be doing… whatever it is you want to orchestrate…” I emphasized his word, “…and not know who I’m with?”
Stewart stopped again at the bed. “I believe I’ve worked that out.” He reached under the bed and pulled out a box.
I stood speechless as he opened the lid.
Inside I saw an array of sex toys, but that wasn’t what he sought. Stewart removed headphones and a blindfold. “These headphones will cancel out the sound of the other person’s voice, and the blindfold will do what blindfolds do. You’ll neither be able to hear nor see the person with you.” He removed a Bluetooth and placed the headphones over my ears. His voice came through the headphones. “Speaking through the Bluetooth, you’ll only be able to hear me. When I’m not speaking, I’ll have music playing, all in an effort to conceal your partner’s identity.”
It creeped me out to have him talking casually about my partners. I removed the headphones. The sound of his voice was beside me. I didn’t need to hear it through electronics. “But, but the other person will know it’s me. Even if I don’t know who it is, he will.”
“They my dear; not he. Plural not singular.” Stewart placed the blindfold over my eyes and the headphones once again on my ears. With my world dark, he continued, “You’re so hot, and you’re so right: they will know. However, you won’t. Each time we attend a function or accept an invitation to dinner, you won’t be burdened with the knowledge of the man across the table having had his dick inside of you. As you’re playing tennis at the club, you won’t be comparing the husbands of the women you see. All you’ll know is what I choose to share with you.”
As I reached for the blindfold, Stewart’s words brought my hands to a halt. “Do not remove that, Mrs. Harrington. Tonight, I want to watch as you follow my directions.”
A renegade tear escaped my lid, only to be swallowed up by the satin material. I spoke into the darkness. “Stewart, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want any part of this.”
He brushed my arms as I felt the zipper of my dress go down. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll make this as easy or as hard as I choose” His warm breath bathed my neck. “I suggest that you work toward easy: it is what I truly want.” Guiding me up toward the head of the bed, he removed my panties and spread my legs. “Tonight it’s just us. Nod if you can hear my voice.”
I nodded, for the first time fearful of the man I called my husband. What did he mean when he said that it can be as easy or hard as he chose? What would he do if I denied him this?
The mattress shifted: instinctively I knew he was gone, though his voice sounded as though he were still next to me. “You’re so fucking hot. The whole loss of sight and selective hearing can be incredibly erotic. Give into it. Give yourself over to the sound of my voice.”
I shook my head. “Please, Stewart.”
“Stop talking,” he scolded. “When we’re home, you can do and say whatever you want. But here, in this place, it’s my domain—my fantasy. You’ll do
as you’re told, when you’re told. If you can’t follow the directions when they’re given, you’ll be punished. I have gags for talking out of turn. Is that what you want?”
I shook my head.
“That’s a good girl. And as you may recall, our contract contains a do-not-disclose clause. What happens in this place stays in this place. No one, not even Ms. Madison can be trusted. Nod your head if you understand.”
I nodded.
“Now, I don’t want you to embarrass me.”
What the hell? Me embarrass him?
Stewart continued, “So, at first, we’ll practice alone. Once you learn to obey, we’ll invite friends.”
My fucking choice was to not obey and get punished or obey and be fucked by others. That didn’t seem like much of a choice.
“Tonight will be very simple. You know the routine, Mrs. Harrington, work that pretty little pussy of yours and show me how wet you can get.”
My fingers obediently found my sex. There was nothing even remotely erotic about what I was doing. At home, in our bedroom, as I watched his blue eyes devour my movements, I could do what he wanted. Though my fingers obeyed, my mind was thinking about my new reality. How could I look his friends and business associates in the eye knowing that any one of them could have been inside of me? Names and faces came to mind. The way Parker Craven had looked at me the first time we met. Did he know? Would he be one of them? Why else was he so intimately involved in the writing of the contract? Business executives, politicians, who would be part of the they?
I gasped as the mattress shifted and Stewart’s fingers plunged deep into my core.
“What the hell? You’re fucking dry as a bone. Come on, darling, you’re normally so wet.” His thumb took over what I’d been doing. “Listen to the sound of my voice. Don’t listen to the thoughts in your pretty little head. Listen to me. We’re going to work to make you comfortable here. That’s it. Think about my cock. If I’m going to let you get all wet and let you come, you’re going to do the same for me. Reach out those pretty little hands. My cock is right in front of you.”
I did as he said, touching his torso. I could tell that he was now kneeling over me. His fingers stopped moving inside of me as I felt him reach past my head. Was he holding the headboard?
“Open your mouth, baby. I’m going to give you a surprise for being a good girl.”
I’d given him head many times, but he’d never come in my mouth, always pulling out and splashing my chest or stomach. I tasted the tartness of his pre-come as he glided his cock deeper into my mouth.
“When we’re here, you’re my whore. Remember that.” He pumped in and out of my mouth. “And good little whores swallow.” My scalp screamed as he fisted my hair, limiting my ability to move or pull away. “You don’t want to disappoint.”
My chest hurt. Not from the weight of his body over mine, but from his words. How could this be real?
MY HANDS GRASPED the cool wrought-iron spindles while Fatal Lullaby played in my ears. The familiar tune gave consistency to my darkened world, providing reassurance as my mind searched for answers. Perhaps I should’ve been questioning my current situation, but I didn’t. I’d been here too many times. My thoughts concentrated on Brody’s bombshell. I hadn’t been able to meet with him yesterday after he’d sprung the news of Stewart’s will. I’d visited the Harrington Society distribution facility as I planned, but then Stewart awakened, and I was summoned home.
I wasn’t sure if it was the high doses of medication or possibly the pain, but like Val had said, as Stewart’s illness progressed, he seemed to be striving for any semblance of control. To that end, I even tried to sleep in his bed last night, but after the second round of nurses came in before midnight, I gave up. Something was up about his vitals and the monitors kept chiming. Everyone was on alert. Honestly, after they increased his pain medication, I’m not sure he even knew I wasn’t in his bed.
This morning when I went to his room, he seemed weaker than the day before. As a matter of fact, when I left the apartment, he hadn’t yet been moved from his bed to his wheelchair. Nevertheless, he was still his demanding self. When I told him I had errands, he informed me that he’d already made plans. I was to be at the warehouse and prepared for an 11:00 AM visit. Though my stomach twisted, the smile never left my lips as I consented. His friend had requested an early lunch meeting, and we didn’t want to disappoint him. Right!
As I waited for my husband’s voice and his friend’s arrival, I held out hope that I could still make it to the Viceroy and meet Brody. It all depended on the friend and what would be involved with today’s meeting. Instead of allowing my thoughts to linger in that direction, I concentrated on Brody. What would he tell me about the will?
It was undoubtedly after eleven and still no word from Stewart, only the ghostly music coming through my headphones. I fought with the desire to remove my blindfold. Stewart had always been the one to secure it. Now that I was on my own, I momentarily entertained the idea of keeping it loose. If I did, perhaps I could see the friend. But then I remembered the realization of Parker. Did I want that? I couldn’t get wet for these men. Did I want to truly know their identities?
The bed shifted, bringing me to the present.
Still, all I heard was music.
A cool hand traced an insubstantial trail from my hand to my collarbone. Then, another touch explored my other arm. Again the bed shifted. I knew this person was now straddling my waist. My hyper-alert senses felt each of his knees on either side of me as well as the heat of his presence above.
My mind told me to open my mouth, but ever since this cruel game began, every one of my movements had been choreographed. Never had I been expected to depend on my own intuition—never here, never at the warehouse. Where was Stewart?
Warm peppermint breath skirted my neck and a sense of unexpected relief loosened my overwrought nerves. I knew this man. I didn’t know his identity, but I knew his peppermint scent. He was kind, as kind as someone could be having sex with another man’s wife.
Some men had preferences and fetishes they enjoyed. Apparently, Stewart enjoyed most of them too. Not Peppermint Man: he was reliably vanilla.
Reverent hands fondled my breasts, pulling and teasing my nipples. I wondered who he was. Did I know him outside of this room? Did I know his wife? As much as I was in the dark, figuratively and literally, with these men, I imagined their wives were too. Did they have any idea that their husbands enjoyed sex with a restrained partner?
It wasn’t that my hands or feet were ever tied or that Stewart ever used the gag he mentioned on my first visit. No, my restraints were invisible and more binding. My restraints were my sister’s future and perhaps even that of the Harrington Society clinics. Yet, as Peppermint Man began to rub his cock between my breasts, I knew those restraints were deteriorating by the moment. If they weren’t, I’d be hearing Stewart’s voice.
Fatal Lullaby and Death Dance had ended long ago as the soundtrack continued its eerie play. Peppermint Man moved his cock to my mouth, teasing my lips and chin as he coated my face with his pre-come saltiness. When I didn’t respond, fingers came to my mouth prying and encouraging me to open.
“I’m here, baby.” Stewart’s voice came through the headphones. I barely recognized his voice, our connection filled with static as if utilizing an old-fashioned phone line and not a technologically advanced sound system. “Nod if you hear me.”
I nodded, surprised by my own relief at hearing the familiar command. As much as I hated this, I needed him present. Yet, with each distant sounding sentence, I was reminded of his weakened state.
“Open for him. Let him fuck your mouth.”
The music resumed, from the beginning of the track, and I did as he said. Slowly, the cock inside my mouth came to life: growing as it thrust in and out. Course hair scratched my chin and cheeks as Peppermint Man buried himself to the hilt. When his rhythm increased, I prepared myself for his come; however, instead of filling my mouth, h
e pulled away.
“Roll over,” came the direction though the crackling connection. “Let’s see that sexy ass.”
I did as Stewart demanded and released the spindles and rolled to my knees.
“Up on all fours.” The static made his words difficult to decipher. “We want to see those titties swing as he drills into you. Nod if you understand.”
Nodding, I worked to right myself. I hated this position. It was difficult to not fall forward. As I fought the blindness to secure my steady balance, Peppermint Man gently pushed my knees apart, fingered my folds, and spread my fake arousal around my entrance. Then without warning, the cock that had been in my mouth—now wrapped—pushed inside my sex. Peppermint Man’s fingers dug into my hips, directing me: pulling and pushing, plunging deeper and deeper until his balls slapped my ass. With each thrust my heavy breasts swung forward and back. It was just as Stewart had orchestrated. Even from the distance of our penthouse apartment, or hopefully from the gates of hell, he was able to plan it all.
It didn’t take long before the friend’s rhythm again increased and heat radiated from his hands and body. I was concentrating on staying balanced when Stewart’s static-filled plea interrupted the music. “Come on, darling, come for us.”
I couldn’t come if I’d wanted, and I didn’t want. Nevertheless, I’d learned to put on a show. If the friend thought I came, it often accelerated his orgasm. Moans came from my lips as I pushed back against the thrusts. Pretending to give way to my impending release, I fell face first into the pillows and let out a muffled scream. Seconds later, Peppermint Man’s cock throbbed and his weight came crushing down upon me.
With his face near mine, I felt the slight brush of his cheek against mine. Then the bed shifted. I lay unmoving, waiting for my directions. Over the last nine years I’d learned to do more than fake an orgasm. I’d learned to be Stewart’s obedient whore. As I lay waiting for his voice, I envisioned his decaying body. Soon… soon he would be dead. Soon I would be free of this. And then I remembered the will.
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