"Oh, my goodness, she's beautiful," Mallory gushed, leaning over the table with her nearly empty pot of coffee still in hand. "What a couple you make."
Mark honed in on her taut, bent over ass. He thought about having her, squirming on his lap for a spanking, or maybe pressed, cheek down on this very table, her jeans and underwear skinned down, her flesh begging for the whistling kiss of a cane or whip.
"Here's one with our children," Mark put another picture alongside the first.
Mallory effused twice as much over Mark Junior and Julie as she had over Erin. "They are sooo perfect."
"Thank you, Mallory, but my point wasn't to get a compliment, it was to show you that you should never give up. A long time ago I was a bumbling fool of a husband, far worse than Rob. I let Erin run free and she cheated on me, but I took her back, and that's when things changed between us. Now we are totally happy together – and you can be, too."
Mallory picked up the picture of Mark and Erin, still absorbing it all. She shook her head. "So you're really telling me this queen of a woman takes ... whippings?"
"She has the scars to prove it. Generally, I spoil her, though. She shops, she wastes my money like any other wife," he teased. "The difference being, at the end of the day, she knows who the master is. I buy her the finest dresses, but she takes them off when I say."
He took back the pictures from the table. "You just need to open yourself to the possibilities," he concluded. "They are right around you."
"I hope so ... I do want to believe." She looked at the coffee pot in her hand, as though remembering. "I guess I better get back to work, now, huh?"
"As you wish."
"Thank you, Mark," she said sincerely. "I think you really helped me today."
"You helped yourself," he corrected. "The answers were right there in front of you all along."
"I-I feel like I should repay you, though..." The girl's voice was as helpless as it was hot. She was a simmering volcano now, for whichever man got to her first. Once again, Mark's charismatic effect over the female gender had shown itself. Personally, he didn't understand it, but then, he was a man and not a woman.
"Repayment, hmm..." Mark wrinkled his brow as though considering.
"Yes, sir." Mallory was on the verge of panting. If Mark asked for sex, he was sure the man would get it. Right here on the floor if he wanted it.
"Find your happiness," Mark declared. "That's all the payment I want."
Mallory blinked. "It's ... it's a deal." She cleared her throat, obviously fighting her desires. "So ... are you two ready for more coffee yet?"
"Thank you, but I think we need to get going."
"Oh." She seemed disappointed. "Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?"
"I have to be getting back to the office. And Robert ... well, he has something he needs to do."
Rob was clueless. "I do?"
"Your wife," he reminded. "You need to go get her."
"I wouldn't know what to say."
"Mallory," asked Mark. "What would you recommend? He loves his wife, she loves him. She's strayed. What would work for you ... if you were his wife?"
Mallory wrinkled her pretty brow. "That's a hard one," she said, though Rob could tell the answer was right there, closer than she realized. "I guess if my husband came to me, and said he loved me so much he was not going to let me go, no matter what I had done to hurt him, that we would find a way to make it right, well, I guess that would make me just melt for him. But he would have to have the plan, you know? I would expect to pay for my crimes. I'd expect him to be strong."
Rob looked at her. He almost wished he could love her instead. It would be so much easier to start fresh. But Mallory wasn't Miranda.
"Rob's wife is out there now," Mark said. "Likely getting herself in more trouble as we speak."
"She needs you," Mallory told him. "You need to find her."
"With all due respect," Rob said. "You don't even know her."
"I think I do. Don't ask me how, but I do. At least talk to her. No matter what happens between you, don't throw away an opportunity. It's just like Mark says."
Rob ground his teeth. There was just no arguing with Mark. Especially now that he had recruited an ally. None of this made sense, but he couldn't argue that he felt aroused by the discussion. He was hard as a fucking rock and he was missing the sight of his wife.
Just to be able to touch her right now...
To hold her body against his. To feel her breathing. To know she was still his. His to do with as he pleased. Could Mark be right? Was domination the missing ingredient in their marriage? They had played a few times, with rope, and had teased each other a little, but nothing more serious. She had always seemed strong willed, despite her vulnerability.
Submissive women weren't necessarily doormats, though. Erin was not a weak woman. She was raising children. She was smart, as well as beautiful. Maybe he needed to look into things a little more with Miranda.
He did have the urges, after all. Mark had not forced him to steal the magazine. Or to masturbate to it.
"Are you prepared to let Miranda go?" Mark pressed. "Are you ready to surrender without a fight?"
"I don't even know what I'm fighting about," he evaded.
"Sure you do. I saw you last night, looking at my wife. You want Miranda to be like that. Obeying your every command. Living for your pleasure. Submitting. You want to be able to dominate every single aspect of her life, don't you? You love and honor her, but you wish you had all the power. Don't be ashamed. I picked you for this job at the firm because you are like me. Society tells us to fight the urge, but the more we do, the worse it gets. A woman on her knees makes us hard. Groveling is better still. How far would you go, Robert? Would you make her beg for an allowance? Would you have her crawling around your house naked, barking like a dog? Would you get her a cage? A leash and collar?
"What do you think, Mallory? Would Robert's wife enjoy being his pet? Would she lick his feet on command?"
Mallory squeezed her thighs together. "Yes," she exhaled. "Oh, god, yes."
Who did she mean? Miranda ... or herself? Clearly Mark's words were getting to her. Would she tell all this to her boyfriend? What about Rob himself – was he going to come clean with his Miranda?
"I have to be going." Rob got out from the booth. He was afraid he was going to ejaculate in his pants.
"Take the rest of the day," said Mark.
"Yeah ... thanks." I'll just go home, he thought. Or take a walk in the park.
By the time he was in the street he knew he could do neither. Before he could talk himself out of it, Rob was behind the wheel of his sedan, heading for Miranda's real estate office.
If she wasn't there, he would find out from the secretary where she was. That way, he could catch her by surprise, rather than calling her on the phone and giving her any chance to run off before he could say his piece.
It was a crazy plan, and he knew it.
What did he have to lose, though?
Except his few remaining scraps of sanity.
CHAPTER FIVE
Miranda's palms would not stop sweating. She couldn't believe she was really going through with it.
"Come in," barked Jeff as she knocked on the open doorway to his office. "Have a seat."
Miranda settled into the black leather sofa to wait. Jeff was gazing over a computer screen, sitting sideways in his black leather chair. The large desk was mahogany, one of many signs this was a profitable agency. She wasn't sure who all owned it, but the rumors were they were big shots. Certainly they got wealthy clients.
Wealthy horny clients, as she had learned yesterday with Cammie.
Cammie was on the road already herself, trying to sell a two million dollar Cliffside condo. She hoped the walls were thick so the neighbors wouldn't hear any of her "sales pitch".
Jeff pounded the keys a couple of more minutes, giving her plenty of time for cold feet. Was she crazy? She was throwing away her marriage her
e, wasn't she? And for what? Granted, Rob had done this first with that bitch Erin, but that didn't make this right.
She still cared about her husband. The thought of him being alone, without her, and her without him felt so wrong. Did that mean she wasn't ready for a divorce? She had better be, though, because he was probably already planning one, and he could find the best lawyer. She had to protect herself.
Wasn't that a reason not to cheat, though? What if Rob could use what she was going to start doing against her? What if she got no alimony? She couldn't live off real estate quite yet...
"What's up, kid," Jeff interrupted her reverie. "You here to quit on me?"
Miranda looked at the big, balding man, with the gut oozing over his belt line and the smooth, empty space where hair had once grown. "No," she told him, finding sudden resolve. "I'm not quitting. In fact, I want to do what Cammie does."
Jeff leaned back in his chair. "Well, well. I didn't see that coming, although I was hopeful. So you really think you got it in you, huh? To be a special girl?"
"There's only one way to find out," she said.
"You got that right." Jeff inclined his head toward the door. "How about giving us a little privacy."
Miranda felt a tiny jolt of anxiety. "What for?"
"You'll see."
She rose to her feet and closed the door. Was he going to tell her something confidential? Was it about Cammie, maybe?
"Lock it, sweetheart."
Miranda could see this wasn't going to be about talking at all. Reaching for the knob, she prepared to run. "I'm sorry, I think I made a mistake."
"Stop right there, Miranda."
She froze in place.
"You had to expect this," he declared. "You're asking me to let you go out there and represent this business, with your pussy and your ass and your mouth. That means you and I are on more than polite speaking terms. You're merchandise now. I get samples, whenever I like."
Miranda's heart was pounding. Why was she so wet between her legs, just from the thought of having to surrender herself to this man? Not only wasn't she attracted to him, she was repulsed.
Was that what made it exciting? The feeling of having to do something she didn't want to?
"What's it going to be, Miranda? I don't have all day."
She put her back to the door. "What do you ... what do you want from me?" she blurted, scarcely able to say the words.
"For today? You'll give me head. Be ready next time, though. After your first sale, I'll be coming inside your pussy."
Miranda felt a stab between her legs. It was as thought he were in there now, probing, using her. "I understand, Jeff."
"Get over here," he ordered. "Let's get this done."
Miranda took a step forward – her first one into a different life. One that by any definition was going to make her a whore.
"Not like that," he snapped. "Down."
Miranda didn't follow. "Sir?"
"Down," he pointed to the floor, annoyed. "On your hands and knees. You'll crawl to me like the rest of my bitches."
"What ... what about my clothes?" she asked.
"What about them? Christ, Miranda, did I tell you to fucking undress?"
"No..."
"Then you don't fucking undress. Jeezus, you're not going to turn out to be another stupid cunt like Cammie, are you?"
"No," she shook her head. Actually she didn't think Cammie was stupid at all.
He scowled at her, his personality totally changed from how he had been with her up to today. "You're still standing."
Miranda sank of her own weight. The thick pile rug tickled her knee caps, exposed below the hem of her short skirt. She could feel a draft of air from under the door. Jeff's desk loomed like a massive wall. She was in a different world and she knew it.
But it was only the beginning. Lowering herself still further, she put her weight on her palms. She was a four legged beast now. No longer Miranda, the upright real estate agent and lawyer's wife, but some other sort of creature all together. A she beast. The kind of animal whose body was available for crude male pleasures.
Miranda began to shuffle forward. Jeff was waiting. His cock was waiting. He would put it, hard, between her lips. He would sink deep inside her suckling mouth and in all likelihood ejaculate there. She hoped he wouldn't expect her to swallow. She had never done that in her life, not even for Rob.
The very idea had always turned her stomach.
Not that she hadn't had a kind of morbid curiosity, too. Maybe if it happened as part of a compulsory situation ... where a man commanded her to do it and she had no choice.
Miranda crawled along the edge of his desk. Crawling. Peering around the corner. Would he be exposed already? Or would she have to take it out? How big was he going to be?
She heard the sound of his zipper, and his chair, the wheels pushing back on the plastic runner. "Just get to it," he instructed. "I have to make a couple of phone calls."
Her feelings of tawdriness went up a notch. So she wasn't even worth his direct attention. Doing her best, she moved past him and put herself in position, directly in front of his crotch. Her ass was under the desk. She was facing him, her heels just touching the back of the wood, her head directly lined up with his crotch. Was she really going to go through with it? She was sweating and ready for a deep, cleansing shower.
The thought of having this man inside her mouth nauseated her. She was ready to choke, but there was no denying the forces urging her on, as if a part of her wanted to claim identity as a slut, once and for all.
"You any good at this?" He looked down, taking his blood-filled penis out through the opening in his pants and boxers.
"I ... I think I please my husband."
It had been a long time, though, and with Rob, she had never felt so on the defensive, so on trial.
"Yeah, well I'm not your husband," Jeff growled. "And I'm not settling for a half assed blow job because I love you. As a matter of fact, if this isn't the best fucking head I've had in at least a week, I'm taking a paddle to your ass."
"A paddle ... but ... but that wasn't part of the deal," she protested.
Jeff snorted. "What have we got a fucking contract now, says what I can do to you and what I can't?"
"N-no," she conceded. "But Cammie never said–"
"Cammie keeps her mouth shut, doll, because she knows what's good for her. What I do to her is strictly off the record. Let's just say, I get my cut for giving her the best properties. Up the ass is my favorite, though her pussy is prime meat, too."
"I can't do this," Miranda shook her head. She couldn't go through with it. "I'll gag. And don't you try and force me, or I'll scream."
"You want to leave?" he challenged. "Go ahead. I won't stop you and I won't fire you, so don't even think about suing me. If you stay, though, I'll give you a real special showing, right away, worth six and a half million. Consider it incentive to do a real nice job on little Jeff. What do you say?"
He was sounding all syrupy. The sound change of tactic confused Miranda. Was it part of his strategy to break down her will?
"Come on, baby," he stroked her hair. "You know I'm only playing with you."
"I don't know what to think," she said, pulling away.
"You came in here," he reminded. "You wanted to fuck men. You wanted to use your body to sell. You wanted to be a good girl. You still do, don't you?"
She watched as he put his hand on his cock, lightly stroking.
"You've come this far," he rasped. "You have to keep going. You have to be a good girl. Not a bad girl."
Miranda was mesmerized by the sight. The way he squeezed his thick, vein-covered shaft.
"You want it, don't you ... you want to be my little slut," he croaked. "Say it, tell me what you want."
"I ... want to be your slut," she heard herself say. Her pulse was racing. Why was she going along with this? She didn't need to be doing this, but it felt good, in a dirty, wicked way.
"You don't want
to be paddled like a bad slut. You want to lick this cock. You want to suck it and make me come."
"I want to ... make you come ... yes."
"Give me your hand." He grabbed her wrist.
Miranda offered no resistance as he placed her fingers over his exposed balls. "Ahh," he sighed. "That's what I'm talking about."
Jeff's testicles were full and heavy. They must be holding a lot of sperm.
"Maybe I'll come on your face instead," Jeff thought out loud. "How would that be, slut?"
"I ... I'll take what you give," she said.
"Damned straight you will. Starting with my meat down your throat."
Miranda swooned. "Oh, god, Jeff. I need you to ... to force me. Make me do it. Make me suck you."
Jeff took hold of her hair, dragging her closer. "Happy to oblige. In fact, I'll make you beg for it." He slapped her face with his dick. He felt hot against her cheek. She could smell the sweat on him. "Let me hear it, slut. Let me hear you beg for my come."
"Please ... come on my face," she felt the release, the rush of submission.
"And in your hair," he prompted, pulling it by the roots.
"You're hurting me," she whimpered.
"But you asked for it. Anyway, you don't really want me to stop, do you?"
She flushed, hot with shame – and need. "No," she hissed. "I need it."
"Sure you do. All you sluts do. You're no different than Cammie. She's a fucking beauty queen but she would rather come in here and lick my hairy ass than be wined and dined by some millionaire. Cause I know what she needs, and I give it to her, don't I?"
"Yes, Jeff..."
"You'll lick my ass, too, and like it. You'll do it all, sister, and you'll thank me for it."
"I will," she promised, wincing from the pressure of his fist in her hair.
"Say it!"
"I'll do it all. I'll lick your ass."
"My hairy ass."
"I'll lick your hairy ass," she exclaimed.
He smiled in dark satisfaction. "And you'll enjoy it. Now open wide. It's show time."
Miranda held her breath as he pushed her face forward onto his cock.
Please, god, don't let me gag.
Her eyes watered. She did what she was told, gaping her jaws in readiness to receive him. His cock seemed so thick and alien. All of a sudden, it was all crashing down on her. The reality, cold and harsh. She was about to perform fellatio on another man. It was wrong, all wrong. She missed Rob's cock. She missed all of him.
OBEDIENTLY EVER AFTER II Page 8
