Betrayal of the Virgin Bride

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

The Betrayal

When George announced that we’d be spending two weeks on a cruise ship, I was elated. “A luxury cabin,” he added with a gleam in eyes that smoldered like a dying fire.

“Humm, sounds wonderful,” I could already feel my thighs opening for that first foul breach.

“Of course, it is the company ship,” he added a bit warily.

“And what does that mean?”

“All expenses paid, that’s the good news,” then he winced, “and a few business matters to take care of. However, I’ve been assured that it won’t take up that much of our time. I thought it was a fine offer. I’ve heard great thing about Mr. Sun’s private ship.”

“A ship or a yacht?”

“A really big yacht. I think it actually could qualify as a ship. Whatever, it’s pretty impressive for private ownership. We’ll be sailing to the South Pacific, hitting several resorts…” He was waiting for my approval.

“Well, this is getting better and better,” I enthusiastically decided.

“Oh, I’m glad you think so,” he seemed relieved by my response.

“Why wouldn’t I be? How else could we afford a honeymoon so extravagant?”

“Exactly.” He was all smiles, while the roar in my nether regions had another dose of fantasy to keep it hot.

We sailed from San Pedro in the afternoon, following a morning wedding ceremony. The reception was small, exactly as I’d planned. I had always been selfish about such things. I wanted to concentrate on George and our romance, not a lot of guests. The honeymoon couldn’t have been more perfectly arranged to give us the privacy I wanted. Even if George had a few commitments to attend to, I trusted they’d be brief. Who didn’t respect the rights of honeymooners to enjoy the first days of married life alone and without interruption? That is why I initially balked when George told me we’d be having our first dinner on board with Mr. Sun and his friends.

“But it’s our first night!”

“I know.” He seemed pensive, worried. In fact, he had seemed to be preoccupied in that manner all day. I considered it wedding jitters and the worst of it should have been over by then—considering that he was finally getting on to part of the day he was looking forward to most. Perhaps his anxiety had to do with bedding a virgin, something he’d rarely done…and not just a virgin, but his wife!

I was jittery too. All my s****l dreams came down to this one moment, and it was fraught with worry. What if I didn’t live up to his expectations? What if he didn’t live up to mine? What if it hurt…or worse yet, what if George had a tiny little thingy! My panic increased as these awful possibilities began to explode in my mind, along with those driven by my unfed lust.

“I wanted our first time to be perfect…” I whined a bit, “to be romantic, just the two of us, a bottle of wine and …” I drifted off, pouting sadly, hoping he’d change his mind about the dinner.

“And that’s exactly the way it shall be, Sally,” he assured me. “We’ll just have to wait until after dinner, once Mr. Sun has toasted our marriage.” His mouth pulled taut in a pained grimace. Perhaps he was as nervous about his business meetings as he was our first married night. I hated the idea that anyone had eclipsed my importance to him, but I had no choice but to live with this fixed reality. I would be patient, dutiful, the good wife. I expected that of myself as much, maybe even more, than he expected it of me. As I dressed for dinner on my wedding night, I had no idea how important being the ‘dutiful’ wife would become in the hours ahead.

Had my mind a lifetime to dwell on the possibilities for my first s****l experience, it would never have conjured up the scene that played out that night. The panic, the anxiety, the jitters never subsided, but then too, neither did the excitement.

Unfortunately, there was no time to dwell on romance—no romancing at all. All my fine and frivolous fantasies were dashed. As if I were living a nightmare, my carefully constructed world of vestal virgins at the altar of love and shameful rogues becoming knights in shining armor disintegrated around me. I was left to navigate in the murky waters of salacious lust and depravity, stripped of my dignity, humiliated and debased.

We toasted our marriage with a table full of well-dressed gentlemen, George’s business associates including an inscrutable Mr. Sun and the black man, Dac. There were four others, two Chinese businessmen, a Polynesian trader, Julio, I’d met once before, and a quietly elegant black man—whose first gaze bore right into me, as if he could see beyond every pretense to the hidden truth about me. His patronizing look was not a s****l one, though it served to place me beneath him in the pecking order of the evening’s gathering. I suspected that all of the men in the room felt the same way about me, believing that I was subordinate to them; a second-class person, like a servant or w***e would be in their eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination that leapt to that conclusion, I tried to rationalize, but the whole setting gave me the creeps. I clung to George’s side like a silly girl as I offered the men a self-conscious smile.

Maybe it was how I dressed—which was quite a departure from my unusually modest attire. The body-defining sheath clung closely to my natural curves and its emerald color seemed to shout quite boldly. Thankfully, the deep slit up the skirt was hidden when I sat down. I’d worn the sexy dress for George—certainly not for these men. After all, it was my wedding night, this was my husband; no time was more appropriate for flaunting my wares! However, I instantly regretted my choice when six pairs of eyes converged on the deep décolletage and the way my bra pushed my breasts upwards, so that they jiggled noticeably when I moved, as if I deliberately planned to attract their lurid stares.

Sensing my nervousness, George leaned over to me as we sat down and whispered, “You’re doing just fine.”

I was in no position to argue, but if he’d given me the chance, I would have excused myself and left. That being impossible, I quietly ate my meal while a business conversation whirred around me in an unintelligible language. Yes, they were speaking English, but I had no clue what they were talking about. Toward the end of the meal—and much to my surprise—Mr. Sun addressed me specifically and, suddenly, all eyes turned my way. I think I preferred their indifference.

“Mrs. Gettys, a toast is in order, in celebration of your marriage.” I looked toward Mr. Sun and blushed. He lifted his glass in the classic gesture and the other men followed suit with muted smiles—if they smiled at all. “I suppose, though, that George has not informed you of our evening’s further activities,” he went on to say.

I looked at him bewildered. “No, I don’t believe he has,” I finally answered.

“Well then, I’ll let Mr. Sands explain,” he nodded to the elegant black man, who again stared at me with such profound intimacy that I felt my spirit weaken and my body quake. Not that it was necessarily a bad feeling, but it was certainly something that made me uncomfortable, especially since that feeling was becoming increasingly s****l.

“George, what is this about?” I asked my husband as we moved into the adjoining room—a large finely furnished stateroom. I remember very little about the room now, except how the polished brass fixtures gleamed like gold in the soft light.

He seemed as nervous as I was, but answered only with a sad, “I’m sorry.” Then he pulled out of my grasp, to leave me standing in the center of a circle of men, who’d taken seats in the provided chairs. The men from dinner were all there, the two Chinese businessmen, Julio, Mr. Sands and Dac. Mr. Sun, however, was at the back of the room some distance away, sitting too, but apparently there only to observe.

I looked around, rightfully alarmed. “What is this?” The assertive side of me that dared to take on legions of men had been submerged to that point. However, it suddenly returned quite forcefully as I sensed the threat closing in around me.

“Let’s not panic, Mrs. Gettys,” Mr. Sands stood up. Moving to my side, he placed his hand on my shoulder tenderly. “You relax and do what we say, you might even enjoy your night.”

“I have every intention of enjoying my night…with my husband!” I told him firmly, while trying to turn and catch George’s gaze, but Mr. Sands’ body was in the way.

“And he’ll be here, in fact the whole night is about him, so I imagine he’ll never be far from your mind.”

“What is this?” I tried jerking from his settling grasp, but his hand turned to steel as he gripped my shoulder tightly.

“Don’t be frightened,” his voice deepened. The force of his fingers clawing into my shoulder seemed to weaken me again, as if he were taking over my body. At the same moment, a strong pulse of desire began beating in my crotch. Though I tried to force it away, it only seemed to beat more fervently for my efforts to squash it.

“Please,” I wanted to cry, to grab for George and fly from the room, but I knew that would never happen. I was afraid. Something about this cruel turn of events signaled an abrupt and definitive end to my romantic honeymoon.

“You won’t be hurt in any significant way, girl,” Mr. Sands went on to say. “And you’ll be doing your husband a great favor. He has a debt to pay, one I don’t think he could pay without your help. That fact puts him in a very precarious position with us. He’s dependent on your cooperation.” This time, I managed to turn enough to see George’s face.

“What is this about?” I asked him.

His face was vacant and his body tense, as if he were about to walk the plank. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Let’s not bother asking him questions, Mrs. Gettys,” the soothing Mr. Sands interjected, “I have all the answers you need.” He was stroking my back gently, as if that might ease the truth of what he was about to say. “You love your husband?”

“Of course, I do.”

“And you’d do what you can to help him out of a bad situation?”

“What situation is that?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question, Mrs. Gettys,” his voice turned cooler. “Do I have your cooperation or not?”

“But I don’t know what I’m agreeing to.”

“You’re agreeing to help George pay his debt, simple as that.” His voice was like velvet, meant to soothe the agitated nerves that transmitted messages of danger and flight just beneath my fiery skin. “The one to Mr. Sun and his associates. Your husband has been embezzling from the company for some months, taking money that doesn’t belong to him.”

“You’re not serious?” I turned again to George, but this time he refused to meet my gaze.

“We’re very serious,” Mr. Sands answered for him. “And your husband is in a very serious predicament. We can either turn him over to the authorities, which will mean he’ll spend a long time in prison, or,” he paused to let this information sink in, “you can do us a favor. You wish to help him?”

“Of course, I do,” I jumped right in, despite the nagging suspicions that my ‘help’ would take an ugly turn.

“Good,” he seemed pleased. “Do everything you’re told and we’ll have no problem.”

His hand moved across my back, across my shoulder and downward to my ass. A twinge of excitement raced through me as I accepted the sensuous feelings that resulted. But No! This wasn’t right!. I tried to shake him off without success.

“What is it I have to do?”

“Just a simple trade, Mrs. Gettys. You can look at it this way… George tried to take something of great value that didn’t belong to him, so, in turn, we’re simply taking what is of value to him—and that is you.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You, Mrs. Gettys, and the prize of your virginity.”

“No!” I couldn’t believe what I heard.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed right back. “If you’ll excuse the crude language, it would seem to be the best way to phrase the facts—you’re going to be f****d, deflowered, f****d and used by the lot of us.”

“No!” I jerked from his grasp in an attempt to run from the room, but one of the Chinese men and Mr. Sands himself hauled me back and held me tight. I struggled against their firm hands in an attempt to free myself, but without success. Their grip only tightened on me more, while the swell of enticing desire made my body crave the very thing they wanted from me. I don’t think I understood that desire right then. I was scared for my life and the great heat in me was focused only on getting away. I began to struggle, kicking and clawing. Then from somewhere outside the brawl of bodies, I heard a voice crisply say: