CHAPTER ONE
Bryley Janison whizzed the dirty, crusted over plate past her husband’s head, nearly
hitting him. “Clean it yourself,” she fumed. “I’m not your fucking slave!”
Gavin Janison just stood there in shock as the dish shattered against the kitchen wall.
The tantruming little redhead in front of him might well have been a stranger for all her
shrill and inexplicable hostility. “I never said you were, Bry,” he defended his
suggestion that his bride of eighteen months might manage to run the dishwasher every now
and again. “I just meant that maybe since you’re home during the day it would be easier
for you to…”
Bryley’s green eyes lit with fury. “Oh, I see,” she interrupted. “So I don’t have a
fucking life because I don’t work nine to five? Fuck you, Gavin. You have no clue what I
do.” She began to count off on her small, pink tipped fingers. They were manicured, to
the tune of fifty bucks a week. “There’s charity work, keeping up with the bills, house
repairs, exterminators, and let’s not forget cow towing to that stupid boss of yours and
all his cronies.”
Gavin’s temper flared a little at the mention of Roth Van Hogen. The man was a genius,
a hell of a mentor and he’d been nothing but kind to he and Bryley. “That’s enough, Bry.
That stupid boss happens to put bread on our table.”
“Well, now he can buy some more goddamn plates, too!” Bryley snatched the next dish
off the stack piled high in the sink.
Gavin was not about to lose any more china. “For crissake,” he grabbed her fourteen
carat gold circled wrist. “What’s gotten into you, anyway?”
“Maybe I’m just tired of this shit.” She squirmed, trying to pull away. “Let go of
me.”
Gavin set the plate down, but held onto her. He was larger and stronger than Bryley
and at the moment, a hell of a lot more rational. “No. Not until you start talking
sense.”
“There is no sense.” Now she was tearing up. She shook out her copper curls, permed
to the tune of god knows how much at Liongoni’s. “I’m through trying to make sense of
this. I hate this house, I hate me...”
Gavin did a quick mental calculation. Was it her time of the month? He considered
offering chocolate, but thought better of it. “Bry, it can’t be as bad as all that...”
“What do you know,” she sobbed.
“I know I love you.”
She hung her head. “No, you don’t. You couldn’t. Not after...”
“After what, Bryley?”
Bryley stiffened, her mood shifting yet again. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not here
enough to notice a fucking thing. You’re not here enough to be in a marriage.”
“How can you say that?” He demanded.
“You’re married to Roth,” she laughed through tears. “He’s your heaven and earth. The
bread on your table. You should just be married to him; make it all a lot easier.”
Gavin frowned. “I put in extra hours for us, for our future. Roth has given me the
chance of a life time, teaching me everything he knows, letting me run half his company at
age twenty-five. And you should hear how he talks about you. He thinks the world of you.
He’s told me that being best man at our wedding was one of the proudest days of his
life.”
“I want a divorce, Gavin.”
Gavin’s heart froze. “You can’t mean that.”
She threw up her hands. “And there’s your final irony. I’m not even allowed to know
if I want a divorce. You see how you don’t need me, Gavin? You can keep this little
fantasy relationship going in your head. I’m sure Roth will hire you one of his little
sluts to go to dinner with and parade around on your arm.”
“Roth is a married man, with a lovely wife.”
Bryley flashed a hateful glare. “Yes, Gavin, it goes without saying how lovely she is
to you, as much as you drool over her. Tell me, have you gotten around to fucking her
yet? Surely that’s one of those things you’re doing for us?”
Gavin clenched his fists. “You’re making me angry.”
“And you’re making me miserable,” she spat back. “Deal with it.”
His lip quivered. Everything in him wanted to shout back obscenities, give it to her
with both barrels, the ungrateful, lazy, mixed up little bitch. But what would that do?
“I’m going out, Bryley...I’ll be back late.”
“Good bye,” she waved. “Coward.”
“I’m not going to fight with you,” he shook his head. “Sorry.”
“I won’t be here when you get back.”
“That’s your decision.”
“I fucking hate you!” She screamed as he walked out the front door.
He could hear china crashing. Lighting a cigarette, he went to his car. It was a warm
summer night, half past nine. Crickets were chirping up around the cul-de-sac. Lights
burned in neighboring windows, televisions flickered. Shadows moved. Life, all around
him. Families with histories and children and issues.
Gavin had picked this subdivision because it looked so very perfect and right to raise
their kids one day. With neatly clipped grass, regulation fences and mailboxes,
everything determined by the friendly housing association.
Bryley teased about them being house Nazis, but he liked the security of the whole
thing, the predictability. It represented all the things he’d lacked growing up, all the
things he wanted their offspring to have.
So what was wrong with his wife, anyway? They were supposed to be in this together.
It was all worked out on paper. From the traditional engagement, no living together
first, to the tidy little wedding ceremony and then into the three year plan. Both of
them working until they saved up enough to start a family.
Here they were just a year and half into it and it was in complete shambles.
He got in the car, started the engine and backed down the asphalt onto the circular
street. Was it really just about his being gone so much? It was true, he probably had
neglected her. When they were dating, he doted on her, and it was a delight to meet all
her needs. But after the first month of marriage, it got complicated. Bryley started to
change. She stopped talking. He wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She kept pushing
so hard for things, for time and money. Nothing made her happy. She didn’t like her job,
so he let her quit. Thank god Roth gave him a raise to meet the gap.
But staying home only made it worse. Bryley got more and more restless and surly. And
detached from their domestic life. He really didn’t expect her to be his servant, but it
did piss him off a bit to come home after a long day and find Bryley on the computer or
home shopping off the television, leaving him to cook his own dinner.
Was he a little curt with her tonight? Probably. But it wasn’t like this had come out
of left field. Gavin considered himself a patient man. Christ, what did she expect from
him? Did she think he had some formula for this marriage stuff? He was doing the best he
could. His parents sure hadn’t left a good model.
Gavin turned out of the subdivision onto Lake Street. Lake led to Fourth which led to
Brown, on the seamier side of town. The neon of the passing bars jogged his brain a
little. He could use a drink.
He was hard, too. Jeezus, an erection. How long had it been? He wondered what the
trigger was.
Fighting with Bryley?
No, not exactly. But taking that plate away from her, overpowering her, and telling
her no, that had been a turn on.
Was it his imagination, or had she responded? Just for a second there, that look in
her eyes, the half open lips. Like if he’d pushed things further he’d have gotten the
first sex out of her in ages.
What would that look like, though? The pushing. The movement into virgin territory,
where a wife’s breaking dishes had consequences, ones she might not like at first but
which she ultimately needed.
Roth talked about things like that from time to time, hinted mostly. From what little
he knew, Roth was a very traditional husband, who kept close tabs on Allison, his much
younger second wife.
Allison was clearly devoted to him and unusually deferential as well. In the year that
Gavin had been working at Van Hogen Enterprises, they’d dined with Roth and his wife on a
number of occasions. She was the model hostess, fawning on her husband and guests. Roth
always ordered for her at restaurants and she even asked permission to go to the
bathroom.
Gavin had a hard time taking his eyes off her, frankly, even though he knew it was
upsetting to Bryley. He sighed, realizing this was another reason she had to be mad.
He wasn’t intending to hurt her though; at least he didn’t think so. He was just so
compelled by what he saw in the trim, short haired blonde with the button nose and deep
blue eyes.
Turning into the parking lot of the very next bar he found, Gavin considered if he
might be the sort of man who could do what Bryley had already accused him of. Could he
cheat? With Allison Van Hogen?
Damn, he needed to get drunk.
Maybe a hooker wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.
Although he should probably keep his nose clean at this point. Especially if he was
going to be heading to divorce court anytime soon.
***
Bryley was out of dishes. And out of tears. She sunk down to the tile floor, her back
against the kitchen cabinets. They were solid oak, imported. The tile was imported, too,
straight from Italy. All of this added up to a steep mortgage, touch and go on a single
income.
Did Gavin think she was unaware of their financial realities? Who did he think kept
the checkbook and juggled the creditors? Who sweated bullets at the end of the month and
worked like Houdini to keep them above water?
He didn’t even try and understand. All he wanted to do was bitch about her trips to
the beauty parlor, as if she was supposed to stack herself up against the other wives in
the company with home perms and glue-on nail kits. She didn’t even bother telling him how
she got most of it free, trading out her web-site building skills, because he would just
find something else to bitch about.
Mostly these days it was the job thing.
As if a day ever went by she didn’t wake up knowing they weren’t going to make it if
she didn’t get a job. For that matter, not even an hour went by that she didn’t terrify
herself half to death with the prospect of Gavin dropping dead of a heart attack from
working so hard. Roth was a slave driver. A user. He was something else, too, though
she didn’t like to say the word even to herself.
The first time Roth had approached Bryley was at a benefit, for the Art Gallery. She
was coming out of the ladies room, headed back to the main ball room. He stopped her and
asked if he could have a word in the coat room.
It wasn’t talking the cunningly handsome, silver gray haired fifty three year old had
in mind. Unless you counted a smooth exercise in sexual blackmail as friendly
conversation.
“You’re a lovely woman,” he smiled, standing with his back to the door, blocking her
way out even as he went to work on her with his uncanny blue gray eyes, hypnotic and
deep.
“I think...I think I should find my husband,” she said nervously.
“Yes, your husband,” he crooned, his lips curling. “A brilliant young man. He’ll go
quite far. Especially with you by his side. You know I hired him because of you.”
Actually, she had no idea. As it turned out Gavin had shown Roth her photo at the
interview, back when they were merely engaged. From that moment, Roth had determined he
wanted her. Biding his time, the sick bastard had waited, until this one occasion, a
month after the honeymoon.
“You needn’t worry about Gav’s job,” he stroked her cheek. Roth was not a tall man,
which meant he was meeting her virtually eye to eye. What he lacked in height, however,
he made up for in sheer presence. “He’s performing more than adequately. Things would
just be a little easier if you would do the same.”
Bryley recoiled from his touch. His fingers felt cold. “I can’t. I can’t cheat on my
husband.”
Ever the shrewd negotiator, Roth had the perfect compromise in mind.
For her first blowjob, he gave her a mink stole to kneel on and a full glass of
champagne to brace her nerves. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing it, letting
her husband’s boss pump his cock in and out of her gaping mouth, slapping his balls
against her chin as he grunted his way to a furious orgasm.
Thankfully, he was not intent on her swallowing his issue.
“For your convenience, milady,” he held out the empty champagne glass.
Spitting out the man’s semen in his presence, especially as she was still on her knees,
was nearly as humiliating as the sucking.
“That was quite good,” he said, helping her to her feet. “For a first effort.”
“This can’t happen again,” she said quickly.
He caressed her cheek, making her cringe. “Of course it can, my dear. Every woman has
her price, and I have met yours.”
Roth came in Bryley’s mouth on a regular basis after that, including once in his car
while he talked to Gavin on his cell phone and another time in his very presence, with her
crouched under Roth’s desk out of sight.
Her pulse had raced so quickly. She was terrified of being caught, although something
about the arrangement made her horny as hell. It was like the danger was racing straight
to her pussy, making her hot and helpless and wet.
Was she afraid of what her husband would do? Or was she just overcome with the idea
that Roth had taken her over and forced her to behave this way—taking a man’s dick in her
mouth with her husband only a few feet away.
She tried to hold her breath the whole time. She was so sure he would hear what was
going on or that Roth’s face would give away what they were doing.
Gavin had seemed blissfully unaware, however. As usual. The only thing that boy
seemed to have eyes for anymore was work. And Allison Van Hogen.
Wasn’t that a rich joke? Gavin wanting her so badly, the poor stupid bimbo whose
husband was fucking half the city.
How did Roth get away with it?
According to the man himself, Allison gave him her blanket permission. Bryley found
that a little hard to believe, but Roth had a rather unique answer.
“Allison can’t protest anything I do,” he boasted. “Because she’s my slave.”
A sex slave to be precise, obedient in every detail, a loving, suffering slut who
accepted every abuse of her own body while claiming nothing of her husband.
Bryley found it repugnant and told him so. He just laughed. “Slavery is the best
thing for women like Allison. It gives them peace and joy.”
Sure...
Like men hadn’t been handing down that line of garbage for centuries. Talk about
serving their own prurient beastliness. No wonder Gavin drooled over Allison. He wanted
a slave, too. A mindless fuck toy he could use and put away whenever he was tired of
her.
Not a wife, not a woman to love.
Bryley could cry...but she already had, hadn’t she?
What a tangled web we weave, when first we learn how to deceive.
Who had said that? Shakespeare, maybe.
What a total fucking mess we make—there was the modern equivalent.
In order to help her husband, she had allowed another man to violate her. In so doing,
she had shattered her own self-esteem and made a turtle of herself.
She couldn’t even let her husband touch her anymore. Anytime he came near her she
froze up, or else fell into a total panic.
Tonight it was both. Although for a second there, when he was holding her wrist, she
had felt safe, protected from her own whirling emotions, insulated somehow from the
burdensome, no win choices of the world she’d created.
If only he was strong enough to hold on.
The possibility made Bryley a little bit wet. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with
this—the sudden experience of being aroused by her husband again. She had changed so much
when they were married. She was not the same person. Some of that had to do with the new
role she needed to take on and the ways she was reflecting back on her childhood.
Her mother had been particularly submissive to her father, though it never seemed to
win her any affection.
The biggest change in Bryley, though, was Roth.
The man was cunning, a true student of the female mind. He had sensed something in
her, a certain pliancy and he had exploited it.
In the beginning, she was taking Roth’s penis in her mouth because he was Gavin’s boss
and she was afraid if she didn’t he’d be fired. Lately, however, she found herself
sucking and licking because it was the man’s will.
And for some reason, that in itself was enough.
Perhaps it was the increased use of domination, and the accompanying dehumanization she
felt. No longer was she given cups to spit in. Now she either outright drank him down or
else expectorated the semen into her own palm so he could watch her lap it up as a little
snack.
He made her say thank you for this little privilege.
She hesitated at first. He slapped her face hard. She held her stinging cheek, her
pussy flooding. It was the most helpless she had felt in her entire life. And the most
lost.
Things unraveled quickly after that. She was carrying a secret she could share with no
one. Everyone was a stranger to her, even her husband, even her own self. Work became
impossible. She could no longer relate to that person she had been before marrying Gavin.
She made excuses about wanting to be home, to prepare for the family they were going to
one day have; but really, she wanted to crawl into a hole.
The very idea of having children with her husband, after what she’d done was too much
to bear. Knowing she would be kissing her children’s father with those lips of hers.
Permanently soiled.
The only thing to stop her was the constant pressure of their situation. Keeping up
appearances, for Gavin, for Roth. Roth had big demands. How she looked. What she wore.
Gavin didn’t know that. How his boss was constantly watching her, evaluating, like she
was a fucking employee.
And all the while he kept threatening to raise the stakes, to make her do more things,
the kind of things that Allison did. Like crawling, and licking his shoes clean with her
pretty pink tongue.
He was going to make her service him naked, too. Something he had not so far
required.
“Having you is like stealing candy from a baby,” he said. “I almost feel guilty.”
Almost, but not quite.
The thing was that Bryley did feel guilty. Sick with guilt, actually. And if she kept
on swallowing it, along with Roth’s semen, she was going to have some kind of serious
breakdown.
Like her mother had, while her father was away in the military for that last tour.
She wasn’t sure what led her to call Roth first and not Gavin. It could well have made
all the difference in the world, but she would never know.
As is often the case in life, events, once set in motion tend to avalanche, one upon
the other, until the very landscape of human relationships is completely and irrevocably
altered.
Roth answered at the first ring. “I told you not to call me at night, Bryley.”
“I’m going to tell him,” she said. “He has to know.”
Roth said nothing.
“Did you hear me?” she demanded.
“I heard you, I just don’t care.”
“Well, you will, when Gavin tells you to take a flying leap. Blackmail can work both
ways. I’ve see how much my husband’s doing for you, more and more each day. I think you
need him now as much as he needs you.”
Roth’s voice was deceptively pleasant. “I’d be careful if I were you, little girl,
before I started meddling in the affairs of men.”
Desperation had made her bold. “I’m not a little girl Roth; I’m a woman...a wife, with
a husband to stand up for.”
“And how exactly do you manage that,” he queried, “spending as much time as you do on
your knees?”
A shiver went down her spine at the allusion to their sexual play. “You’re not going
to shame or bully me,” she told him. “I am going to come clean. And go on with my
life.”
“Girls like you don’t go on. They are either taken in hand or they drift, irrevocably
to total depravity.”
“You would know. It’s your home away from home.”
She heard him sigh, dramatically. “You know, Bryley, you are actually starting to piss
me off. No one’s done that in quite some time.”
“I consider it an honor.”
“I’m sure you do. I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I have a soft spot for Gavin, and
seeing as how you’ve turned out to be a fairly decent little cocksucker, I’m going to make
you a deal. How does that sound?”
“Like you can shove it up your ass right now,” she declared.
“Oh, I really think you want to listen to this.”
“Fine, but you’re wasting your breath. The minute I hang up with you, I’m calling
Gavin and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Bryley wondered if he was asking himself the same question she was, namely why, if she
was so set to her course of action, did she involve Roth at all. Did she really expect
him to be of some help? To implicate himself by corroborating her confession?
She wasn’t thinking clearly...
She never did where Roth was concerned. It was like he had this magnetic pull, this
kind of dark attraction she couldn’t escape.
“I have no intention of stopping you. In fact, I want you to tell Gavin every sordid
detail.”
Bryley smelled a rat. “What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t any. Not from my point of view, at any rate. I simply want to make sure
that Gavin is made fully aware of your...special nature, shall we say.”
“What do you mean; special nature?”
“You’re a natural slave, Bryley. Haven’t you seen that?”
Her belly tightened. She thought about how vehement she’d been with Gavin, furiously
objecting to the idea of being his chattel, when he himself had never introduced the
concept. Could it be the idea had already taken root in her, unleashing fearsome denial?
“I haven’t seen anything, Roth, but your ego. Your kind thinks every woman lives to be
at their feet.”
“Mmm,” he mused. “I am so going to enjoy using you when Gavin gets you back.”
“Gets me back? What are you talking about? Whether or not I leave my husband is none
of your damned business.”
“I don’t mean separation, you foolish little cunt, I am referring to your training.”
“How dare you talk to me that way.”
“It’s a splendid program, really,” he ignored her. “Results guaranteed; virtually
foolproof methods for molding sex slaves, almost no backsliding. Of course it is along
the lines of shock therapy. Rather like boot camp for recalcitrant females. It’s
hardcore ‘breaking’ is what it is, for girls who need very serious attitude adjustments.”
Bryley laughed without humor. “You’re crazy if you think I’d go to something like
that. And you’re even crazier if you think Gavin would send me to such a place. He loves
me—something you’ll never understand.”
Roth’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Touching, my dear, truly. But the fact is, Bryley, you
are going to obedience school, and I will relish every second you are there knowing how
exquisitely you are suffering.”
Bryley felt a flash of panic. Could Roth really make something like this happen? Was
this obedience school even a real place? “You’re just trying to scare me,” she
challenged. “The authorities would never allow such a thing to exist.”
“Why not? It’s consensual.”
“No woman would consent to slavery,” she countered.
“Allison has.”
“Fine, so you have your own slave. Leave me alone!”
“I can’t do that. You decided to meddle, remember?”
“I’m not meddling now, I’m just asking you, please, let my husband and I work things
out in our own way.”
“I like my way better. Two months of intense abuse and humiliation therapy, after
which you emerge a new woman, able to see the error of your ways as you grovel at my feet,
begging forgiveness for being such a naughty little cunt.”
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