Infidelity

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

“Shall we toast my freedom from the lying b***h?” I ask.

“Toast your separation?” Bernard asks back.

“No, my divorce,” I correct him quickly.

“Divorce Anna if you will, Heinrich. But I’d advise against it.”

“Why? She’s a slut.”

“And are you not the same? You screw other women.”

“Yes, but not so she doesn’t know. I don’t do it on the sly. I don’t hide my passions, and I’ve never wanted something from a submissive that I couldn’t get as easily from Anna. Besides, she loves this man.”

“Maybe she loves him, Heinrich, because you’re unlovable.”

“I haven’t changed a wit in four years of marriage.”

“And you should have,” he declares. “You should have developed something deeper than just your S&M.”

“It’s all we had.”

He stares at me with his big black eyes like he’s going to win me over to his cloying point of view. Bernard is a handsome black man with a heart like a lamb. Eyes that make women melt, and he’s usually sincere about it.

“Are you sure that’s all you had? Or were you both too lazy to see if there was anything else to make of your relationship?” he asks.

“She lied, Bernard. Snuck around like a little cheat. She played the game all wrong.”

“Marriage is more than a game.”

“Not for us.”

He sighs, hating me. Ah, my efficient attorney is far too romantic for me.

“She humiliated you,” he just keeps going. (Suppose that’s what makes a good litigater, he doesn’t stop.)

“I’m won’t be humiliated, not by any woman, least of all Anna. Yes, I suppose I’m partly to blame. Maybe I didn’t screw her ass enough. I’ll acknowledge that. But I won’t have her in my life any longer. Draw up the papers.”

“Could be a cry for help, you know.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“She doesn’t need a psychiatrist, but a husband.”

“Frankly, I think that’s a perfectly good solution. If she wants to bare her soul, let her talk to a counselor, or better yet, a priest—they don’t charge.”

“You are a cold bastard.”

“Like I said, I haven’t changed a wit, and I don’t plan on changing now.”

He looks at me as though I’m crazy. Perhaps I am. But I can’t see what good a lot of introspection is going to do.

“I’ll have the preliminary papers by the end of the week, then you can take a look at them.”

“Don’t dawdle.” His face breaks out into a wide, white toothy smile as though he’s going to take control of my future and manipulate some reconciliation. “She wants this as much as I do, trust me. Didn’t take an hour for her to be out of the house and on her lover’s doorstep.”

He turns in his seat and sighs. “So, what are your plans now?”

“Right now?”

“What do you want to do with your life?”

“I want to get a divorce. I want to sell that little hovel in the woods…”

“Why not give it to Anna?”

“Never. And immediately, there’s a lovely little sub in my office that I plan to cultivate.”

“Another Anna?”

“There are no other Annas. She has a corner on the market.”

“You don’t see any blame for yourself in this impasse with her, do you?”

“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 n*****s, 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 b***h 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 s****l 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 p***y 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 p***y 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 b***h 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 life 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, n*****s 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.