Infidelity Read online

  “She knew what she was getting, and she loved it. She should have been happy. If she wasn’t getting enough attention she could have spoken up.”

  “I’m not sure why I like you, Heinrich,” he says with a sly smile. “Perhaps because you are cruel where I am not, and I can live through your demented mind vicariously.”

  “You think you’re not cruel when you have a submissive ass to ream?”

  “Not the way you’re cruel, my friend. I’ve always believed that surrendering women need both heartlessness and love. The paradox is much more fascinating than cruelty alone.”

  “So, you think I have no compassion.”

  “Not often.”

  He’s likely right. But I do love. I loved Anna, and always gave her what she needed. She knew that I could do no more.

  ***

  Delia’s heard about the divorce and my prurient lifestyle and can’t wait to wiggle into my affections. I send her my charm every opportunity I can, and then intersperse it with a chill that keeps her perpetually guessing. She won’t understand where I’m coming from, her delicate brain is easy to toy with, and so I do. Even Anna was never this naïve. I can imagine having Delia in chains and leather within weeks—but it will take months to cultivate what I really want. It wouldn’t be worth it if it took less time. She wouldn’t be dampening her panties at the thought of me. Or going home to masturbate thinking of being under my rule. Or absently scratching our names together as though I’ll make her the next Mrs. Keller. One wife is quite enough for me.

  Delia’s femininity is quite different from my wife’s. Where Anna is slender, this one’s voluptuously robust. Her features are less demure, her attitude exuberant and infectious. Her chest is full enough to bury a face, and her thighs ripple beneath the short skirts she wears. Her long hair is quite unruly, a mass of dark curls. And her black eyes would seem to bore into a night like candles in the darkness. But then, I’ve never seen her at night—or how the attitudes and costumes of my nighttime activities would wear on her. I imagine quite well given her fondness for clothes of cryptic colors. Every day she wears her cashmere purple sheath, and I watch how the tight knit clings to the curve of her hip, I think of how that hip will take a whip cutting its side, or coiling around that hip, slicing into the tenderness along her lower abdomen. Or, when I see the two spheres that define her ass into such succulent melons, I envision the way they’ll be swathed with crimson, burning richly with such intensity she’ll have to fight me, regardless of the fact that she won’t win any war we wage. I’ve found myself too many times eyeing Delia’s body parts, noting the tiny protrusions of her nipples, the allure of her eyes, and the elemental parts of her lower body that speak to me every time I pass her at work. She’s waiting for me to crack her ass with the palm of my hand, but she will wait some time for that to happen.

  Once the eye contact screams for something to happen, then I’ll make my move. Until then, I’m content to let the little bitch stew.

  ***

  Needing to let off steam, I spend some time at Tethers. The joint’s too damned smoky, but the promises are good for some reasonable sexual diversion.

  I can tell what’s going to happen the minute I step in the door and the little seductress, Leah, is climbing on my side, her wet naked cunt pressed to the leg of my blue jeans. She wears too much eye makeup on her pretty face, but makes up for it with her open smile, all colored in red. She wears her bleached hair short, in silver/white spikes. Other than her overly painted eyes, there’s little else but a harness of straps, a fat black collar with silver rings and ankle boots with rings to tether her. She’s a walking advertisement for this establishment, and I’ve always liked the look.

  “Heard you kicked Anna out?” she says with a fake pout like she’s always the last to know.

  “Heard the whole story?” I ask her.

  “No, none of it. Bernard won’t breathe a word.”

  “Good man.”

  “So, was it messy?”

  “No. I don’t let things get messy. It’s simply over.”

  “My, you’re short on details? I’m disappointed.”

  “You won’t be after I flog your ass. It’s been some time.” I look down at her bright limpid eyes, the brown a lovely chestnut hue. She’s tight to my side, the little thing, not so little. She may only be a small five feet three, but she packs power in her velvety form. She’s not as voluptuous as Delia, but she certainly has assets any man would treasure. What’s better yet is that I have no vested interest in her, nor she in me.

  It’s so hot in the smoggy lounge that we move directly into the cavern. Leah’s eyes light when we reach the circular rack.

  “Has your pussy been beaten lately?” I wonder aloud as I think of her legs splayed for me, blood pouring to her head as she’s bound for me upside down.

  She smiles, while I feel her firm body wilt on my arm.

  “My ass always loves you, Heinrich.”

  “But it’s your pussy tonight or nothing at all. I’m feeling especially mean.”

  She stares into my eyes for some seconds as though she’s deciding if I really mean what I say. She wonders if she will change my mind. As many times as we’ve played together, she should know better than to question me. I dispassionately watch her decide. There’s always a sub on the floor, or in the cavern, that likes it rough. Leah knows this too, knows what she’ll give up being coy, cute and manipulating. I extricate myself from her warm grasp and move on, only to have her catch up with me seconds later. “May I reconsider?”

  “You can decide to be a bitch or be submissive, but the decision better be now.”

  She looks meek, and I grab a naked breast.

  “Yes, sir,” she submits so willingly I wonder what made her balk to begin with. “On the floor, sir?”

  “No, on the rack. And don’t say another word. Better yet, I think I’ll gag you.”

  “Is that safe?” she asks.

  “Hasn’t it always been before?”

  “But you’re breathing fire, sir, and I wonder…”

  “Wonder if I’ll vent my wrath for Anna on you?”

  She shakes her head yes.

  “It’s been over six weeks. And if you think I’d let my feelings for one sub cloud my judgment, then you shouldn’t be playing with me at all. If you have nothing else to add to this conversation, I’d suggest you retrieve a ballgag.”

  She smiles, content with what I’ve said and starts her retreat.

  “Oh, but on your knees,” I order, and she drops immediately, padding to the sidewall to find a proper gag for a loquacious sub.

  The circular rack has an “X” cross in the center. I strap her in face first. With her belly to the crosspiece, she rests her crotch on a rod high between her legs. It will play havoc with her spread labia until I turn her upside down and let her hang. The rod removed, I’ll have an empty crotch of soft brown curls to torture. As the plump folds of skin nestle against the rod, I snap metal clamps two inches long on the fleshiest part and turn the screws until I see her wince and hear a muffled protest behind her gag. The weighty metal elongates the flesh, pulling it down a little more each second.

  Her arms strain to reach the cuffs above her, and I tighten them down so the bones of her back become visible. There’s enough flesh there to take a good crack of a whip, though I’m more interested in her crotch right now.

  Repeating the stringent bondage with her ankles, I have her trussed up like an insect. Taut, the cords of her muscles become visible. Leah sighs like this is comforting, while her crotch nestles into the hard wood, happy to have this most delicate part of her protected a moment longer. She opens and closes her eyes dreamily, as though she’s reverting to some fantasy—out of the closet of many, or perhaps remembering the last time she was bound to this rack.

  Leah’s been coming here longer than I have which makes her its oldest member. She should own the place. I know, however, that she reserves her appearances for her alter ego. In her other lif
e she bears no resemblance to the woman that’s seen here. Classic control freak in the boardroom, I wouldn’t want to go up against her in a business deal. Word is, she eats men alive and loves every minute of it, then suddenly turns tail on herself and pays penance at Tethers. There’s no suggesting a permanent relationship with any man because she could never decide what she really wanted. It’s not mine to care if this lifestyle suits her or not. Right now, she’s going to be whipped.

  Having Leah secured, my passions begin to rise. I lied when I told her this had nothing to do with Anna, but I suppose she’s already figured that. There are always ulterior motives in these scenes. Even if it’s subtle, the subtext of our lives cannot disappear as though we become clean slates. In this place we write in bold and brilliant strokes. My passions will leave imprints on Leah’s mind and body so she’ll remember this scene fondly the next time she’s in the boardroom wreaking some injustice on a feeble man with no balls for the tough fight.

  As I turn the rack, I do so slowly, seeing how her body settles with each crank, how her ungracefully bound breasts change form with every degree until 180°degrees from the start, they jut out nearly straight, nipples slightly enlarged as the rings that pierce them dangle with weighty charms. Her body settles at last into the shoulder straps, and I remove the rod between her legs to expose her cunt. I watch her breath. As I move around the rack, I see the anxiousness in the lines of her face. It’s odd to see such fear in Leah, as though this time means more to her for reasons I don’t understand.

  Floating a soft and many taloned deerskin flogger over her thighs and pussy, I watch her crotch grind as though she’s seeking orgasm already. My cock stirs more freely, but it will be ignored for awhile. I drive her mad with the gentle flogging until I see the movement in her body change just slightly. Anna was quite like this. The vibration is so subtle, some can’t see the difference; but it’s at this moment that I’m most inside a submissive’s whispering body listening for to it speak.

  Her eyes are closed, her mind drifts off. When I abruptly rip the labia clamps away, she screams. Rushing blood is difficult to bear. She twists desperately, going nowhere. I follow through with a cane rapping at the insides of her thighs, at her pussy straight on, in the gentle places, atop her clit, and in the crevice laying several hard where her pink anus puckers. She roars behind her gag and I back off waiting for some sign to stop. There is none, so I begin again. The deerskin eases her pain for a time and the discomfort subsides. I can see a visible clenching in her crotch where the spasms are beginning. I let her build for several minutes while my flogger continues its gentle journey, and then with a snap of the wrist I lay it on hard, and follow it quickly with a more cutting whip. This leaves welts beside the marks of the cane. The strike is erratic. I center on her ass for awhile mindful that she takes this with much more poise than she takes it on her pussy.

  There are shudders, vibrations of pleasure in us both. My cock pulses to the same beat she feels. I know when I lay the cane on her again and follow with deerskin, and then the leather, the combination will end with an orgasm. She’s fought hard for this one, the climax ripping like an angry animal tearing at her body.

  Seeing her face afterwards, Leah seems as frightened as she was before it began. Some demon has her riled. But she can’t take more.

  Bringing her upright, I let her equilibrium return and take away the gag. Undoing her bonds, she collapses into me. Sixty seconds of tenderness in my arms, she drops to her knees and removes my dick from my jeans. Covering the shaft with her hand, I watch her red mouth cover the head, her bright fingernails move with ease as the blowjob continues beginning to end.

  There’s cum on her face, more staining the leather harness with globs of white. She smiles, the first sign that she’s content with this. For a time, I was concerned. I don’t go beyond any submissive’s boundaries, least of all one as willing as Leah.

  “Maybe what’s troubling you should stay at home,” I suggest lifting her to her feet.

  “That obvious?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a gem,” she snickers as she pats my cheek.

  She’ll tell me no more than I’ll tell her of myself. We are closed books except for these brief moments. There are few women I want to take to these lengths. Anna was one. Delia replaces her now. But at least for an hour, Leah’s a decent substitute.

  ***

  Delia’s standing in front of me as I sit at my desk. I’m thinking unrespectable thoughts and very happy about it. She has no clue, however, what’s in my mind since I’m staring out the smoke/grey windows talking on the phone. She waits with reasonable poise though I sense her becoming concerned as I put her off. I note her anxiety with pleasure, seeing her nervous expression reflected in the marble surface of my desk. Finally laying the receiver on the cradle, I turn to stare upward at two soft dark eyes and that mass of unruly hair.

  “Tell me, what it is you want from me, Delia?” I ask. My voice is cool and my comment purposely vague.

  “Mr. Keller, I am sorry about the lost documents,” she immediately rushes in. “I swear, they were on Finnegan’s desk. I don’t know what happened.” She looks as though she’s going to cry.

  I nod. The documents were already found, but I’ll let her squirm through this one before I let her know that.

  “And what else is on your mind?”

  “Sir?”

  “Your body language is no accident, Miss Rose. Now we either address the issue of your unseemly habit of exposing yourself as inadvertent and I reprimand you; or we speak about it honestly.”

  “I thought you were…” she stops. Of course, she’s embarrassed.

  “Thought I was what?”

  “I must have made a mistake.” She fidgets nervously.

  “What kind of mistake?”

  She bites her lip. Cute trick.

  “I assumed you returned my interest. Oh, but I’m very sorry.” She blushes, her neck a rash of red.

  “Let’s assume I want your sexual interest, Delia, I’d prefer a more subtle approach. Let’s dispense with the overt foreplay in the office unless you want to thoroughly embarrass yourself. If there is anything between us we’ll keep it strictly between you and me.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying if you want my attention, you can have it. As much as I have to give to any woman right now—which is very little. You certainly know that I’m not a genteel lover. Whatever rumors you’ve heard I’m sure are true. I’m looking strictly for women that need to yield. Without that, there’s no point in going further. If that interests you, then we’ll go for coffee some afternoon and talk.”

  Her eyes become more seductive as I speak. I’ve hit the mark.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been so obvious,” she looks chagrined. “It’s the way I get a man’s attention.”

  “Well, you certainly got mine.” I’m thinking of the day she bent over next to the Xerox machine. Drawing her short skirt high, there was her lovely round bottom with just a thong bikini to prevent my seeing everything from anus to clit. “From now on behave yourself in the office, and do as I say. I’ll see what we can do about that coffee break.”

  She’s dismissed, certainly reeling and lightheaded.

  A week later, I’m deliberately brusque with Ms. Rose as I dash through the office, tossing a slip of paper on her desk. “Coffee, The Arbors, 3:00 p.m. Makes excuses, you won’t return the rest of the day.”

  I don’t stop to gauge her expression, but find a pleasing one when I see her at The Arbors waiting for me. It’s 3:15.

  “Sorry I’m late.” I take a seat across from her and order a latte. She’s slowly sipping her mocha.

  Though our table is in the corner we are not alone. The café is filled with businessmen and women, a few college students, and what appear to be artist types with faces burrowed in thick books of scholarly dissertations. In the midst of this crowd hardly seems like the place for personal revelations o
f the sort we’ll discuss, but I have a fascination for setting submissives on edge in disconcerting situations like this one. I’m too jaded in these efforts, and a little too tired to take an initiate who can’t easily get by this kind of discomfort. I’d rather blow her out now, as waste my time and find her balking when things are supposed to get interesting—when it’s time to take off clothes and bow, and offer me a willing ass and a body ready to take a lash.

  Though a “Leah Sands” would be much easier given my laziness, I prefer an untried innocent to veterans of these practices—as long as they don’t cause me too much stress.

  Delia stares around nervously. Sitting primly, she stares at me over the top of tiny, round, wire-rim glasses that perch at the end of her nose. Her long hair is loose so that it almost hides her face. When I saw her in the morning, it was neatly clipped at the base of her neck. She wears a grey tweed suit with a deep “V” neckline that plunges downward, cleavage hidden behind a pale blue line of silk. Her skirt is short—enough to keep her from crossing her legs, so she sits with them clamped tightly together, almost looking like there’s a poker up her back.

  “Did you find a good excuse to leave the office for the afternoon?”

  “I hope so. I mentioned to Miss Crossley a Doctor’s appointment I forgot to tell her about.”

  “And she wasn’t annoyed?”

  “She’s always annoyed about something, but there was an emergency in the mailroom that was more important than my skipping out for the afternoon.”

  “Well, then, Delia,” I lean back admiring her loveliness, “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  She stares at me blankly.

  “Tell me your fantasies.”

  She takes a deep breath and her chest shimmies underneath the silk. “I know you’re into S&M,” she starts.

  “How’s that?”

  “Other than the rumors, I have a friend that’s seen you at Tethers.”

  “A friend with a loose mouth. That is a private club.”

  “I understand that.” She jumps in as though she needs to defend herself. “And I don’t think she goes there anymore. I have a feeling her loose mouth cost her a lot with the man that brought her. She’s been trying to get back in the scene for months without much success. Oh! But I wouldn’t worry, she had little to say about you except that you were there looking quite ruthless—though that ruthlessness didn’t seem to be focused on any one person.”