by Gabi Moore
I cleared my throat and tried to speak without cracking my voice.
“Today, I agreed to sell my pussy to the highest bidder.”
I shot him a look.
“Keep reading.”
“Todd decided he was sick of me not pulling my weight and wanted me to make myself useful. And since all I’m good for is fucking, he suggested I service two of his associates, who’ve agreed to pay $50 000 to fuck me…”
My voice trailed off, stuck on the figure. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
“I didn’t tell you to stop” he said, voice ice cold. I cleared my throat again and forced myself to keep reading.
“If I’m any good, Todd will make me do it again. I’m his, but I can’t wait for his friends to use me. I’m going to try my hardest to do everything I’m told. Luckily, I’m used to having many different men fuck me, so it should be easy. I can’t wait.”
I stopped reading, closed the book and stared down at the table, feeling as though I might faint. Or laugh. Or both.
“This is crazy,” I said quietly.
“Yes, it is. And you’re going to do it anyway,” his voice a low growl.
“You haven’t really …have you Todd? Found someone to …” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“To fuck you? Oh yes. As you well know, it’s not that hard, actually. With your rather forgiving tastes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy who I’ve picked out for you, but if you don’t …then all the better.”
My life had become a strange movie. A weird, never-ending scene where people said bizarre things and smiled while they did it.
“Who are they? Who are these men?” I asked. With horror I realized that my voice sounded breathy and excited. He grinned.
“That’s not for you to question. Your job, as you see in the diary, is just to do as you’re told. Everything you’re told.”
The word ‘everything’ fell from his lips like a kind of irresistible poison. What was everything? Wasn’t this far enough? I had cheated, he had caught me cheating, and now he was going to get revenge and then we were going to live happily ever after. Except those last two things would happen together. Everything. All at once. When would I be fully absolved? Ever? And what about him, was he just a poor sweet innocent multi-millionaire with a badly behaved trophy wife?
“I’d love to,” I said finally, and my voice felt stronger. He wouldn’t likely suggest anything I wouldn’t have done myself. In fact, I always wanted to dare him to just try and embarrass me. He would only humiliate himself. Fine, it was settled. How far would I go? As far as necessary, to make a point. He was the wealthier, the more influential. He had more, knew more. But so what?
I stood up and moved over to his side of the table. I was sick of having these monumental discussions with furniture between us. I wanted to be in the pool. Naked. Just him and me. I’d be his dirty little slut and he’d be my angry husband and it’d be cheesy but if he needed that, I could go with it. I placed a hand on his chest and stroked him, then leaned down for a kiss. His kiss in return was surprisingly hesitant.
As I bent forward, my breasts hung low in my blouse and I wished, just wished he would reach out and touch me. He sat rigid. His kiss was strange.
“Is this ok…?” I asked.
He said nothing.
I peered down into his lap and saw the answer I really needed. The fabric of his suit trousers stretched and pulled, gathering in a bulbous point nearly halfway down his thigh. Todd was a well hung guy. The first time we fucked, I made a joke about how unfair it must have seemed to other men that he was good looking, wealthy, and blessed in the dick department. I remember like it was yesterday, how he had replied to me: “It’s more unfair now that I have you.”
I snaked my hand down and teased at the edge of his erection, but his kiss went even more limp in my mouth. His breathing was strange. My hand went further down and I closed careful fingers around the width of him. Instantly, he shrank. It was like my touch was an evil spell and his body deflated right in front of me.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever really wanted Todd,” I whispered, not sure where such a sentiment came from. I kissed him again, and with more urgency, but he was pulling away.
“I’m so sorry, Todd, I really am. I want things to be different between us, I’ll do anything you want, just tell me what you need.”
It’s like I could feel his spirit inside him shrivel and contract, pulling away from me. His body was there, but it was just a shell. He froze, his hard-on completely gone.
“I need you to not talk like that,” he said plainly.
“Like what? I’m sorry…”
“Stop apologizing.”
He stood up and shrugged me off, and I staggered to catch my balance again.
“Todd I don’t understand. What are we doing?”
He looked at me. Really took his time looking me up and down, and I could almost feel the speed of his thoughts.
“I don’t know,” he said softly. “I don’t know what we’re doing. But I don’t want to discuss it. You broke my heart, Natasha.”
It was the last thing I expected him to say.
“But that will never happen again. You had countless chances to apologize. We could have been a different kind of couple, we could have done this differently, maybe a year or two ago. But it’s too late now.”
I had never seen him looking so defeated. Todd was never sad about anything, not really. But what I saw briefly on his face was somehow worse: disappointment.
“Todd, I’m scared,” I said. Again, no idea where that came from.
His face brightened.
“Good.”
Chapter Ten - Natasha
“It doesn’t matter how many carbs you eat, Jen, it just comes down to calories.”
“It’s not as simple as that. There’s a lot that goes into it. Hormones and stuff, different metabolisms. I just don’t process carbs like some people do.”
“Bullshit, a calorie is a calorie.”
I was with ‘the girls’ on one of our notorious brunch crawls, and we were onto talking about food and diets, because that’s what we always did. While our husbands sit in board rooms and wrangle the bottom line, we sit here in expensive cafes and talk diet, but with fat, carbohydrate and protein grams instead of dollars. But really, it’s all the same thing. Two sides of the same ugly coin.
On one hand: as many variations of eggs benedict and mimosa cocktails as your heart could ever desire, and in any quantity. On the other hand: your pert ass. Getting a rich man to marry you is easy. Getting him to stay married to you is where the work starts. Not like these women had the best track records, but we all knew that at the very least, our end of the bargain was to stay skinny, no matter what.
Tight walking that fine line was work. I know you’ll think the women I’m about to describe sound a little, shall I say, silly. But the next time you see people like me and my friends out somewhere, I promise you, we’re working. Just not in all the usual ways. We smile. We soothe our nerves with alcohol.
“That mimosa has like, twenty grams of sugar in it,” said Jen. “No different from eating a cookie. Or just, like, mainlining the sugar” This week, she was recommitting to her low carb plan and preaching at us for eating wheat.”
“Bullshit,” said Abby. This week, Abby was on an intuitive eating binge, ‘healing her gut flora’ and preaching at us to not cut out any food groups.
“Natty, you’re quiet, what’s eating you?” Jen said.
Whining about your waistline is only fun when everyone in the group is doing it. But I couldn’t. My mind was all over the place.
“I’m sorry. I just …I’m doing this cleanse and I’m a little foggy I guess,” I offered lamely.
All three of them gave me concerned looks. Jen was married to a famous actor (I won’t tell you who, you’ll freak out) and had a couple of kids and her own handbag boutique she never visited. Abby was a part time model who met her property developer husband at her boo
k launch about growing up poor in Colombia. Annie was the youngest of us, not quite a fully vetted member of our brunch group and still in that philanthropical phase of her rags to riches story. In their own way, these women knew me inside out.
“Honey, don’t talk crap, we can see something’s bugging you,” said Abby.
I slumped back in my seat and sipped my cocktail.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Uh huh. Come on, you look miserable. Spit it out, what’s up?”
I sighed again and looked at the trio of painted, concerned faces.
“Well ...it’s just …Todd hasn’t been home in like a week.” Like synchronized swimmers, they all cocked their heads in unison. Abby sat up straight and got ready to pep talk me, because that’s kind of her thing.
“Honey, the first time Brad did that to me, I thought I was going to die. Did you guys have a fight?”
“Not a fight exactly…”
Jen jumped in. “Sweetie, if you want to take advantage of the fabulousness of the advice we’re super qualified to give you here, you have to give us all the gory details. Don’t worry, we’ve all been there…” she said, playfully drunk.
“Ok fine. It’s actually …it’s worse than just a fight.”
“How worse?”
“Ugh, I can’t say.”
“Don’t be silly. A sex thing? A cheating thing?” Jen said.
I frowned.
“Kind of. Maybe both of those things.”
The synchronized swimmers leaned in, ready to hear a bit of scandal.
“I’ve been cheating on Todd,” I breathed, and waited for them to chastise me. But they just waited for me to get to the important part of the story.
“And…?”
“And he found out.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. But he’s …he doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s not himself these days…”
They all three leaned back. They knew I was a little …sexually exuberant. And honestly, this was a story they were all well familiar with. Well, perhaps my story was a little different.
“Honey, you have to clean up your act,” Abby said. “You have to be really repentant. Relationships can survive cheating. But you have to show remorse.”
“I did!”
“He’s still mad?”
“I …I don’t know what he is. It’s kind of like he wants to punish me now, you know?”
Jen was nodding in agreement. Her and her husband fought more often than she changed her diet plan.
“But that’s kind of a good sign. It means he’s still invested in the relationship. He hasn’t unilaterally gone to divorce, so that’s a good thing.”
“No, I guess he hasn’t. But then, like how long will it go on for? He won’t respond to any of my messages, nothing.”
“You say cheating. How bad are we talking?” Abby asked, throwing back the last of her margarita.
“Bad. Really bad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. He uh …it was kind of a caught red-handed thing.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
I took another big sip myself. It was a beautiful day. A hint of grey on the horizon but it would probably only rain long after we were indoors and started the shopping section of the afternoon.
“He wants to …like, he’s made it into this weird sex thing.”
“Go on.”
I had their attention now.
“It’s hard to explain. Like, he’s gone all dominant on me. Like, he keeps going on and on about giving me my punishment…”
All three of their eyes widened.
“Oh, honey, you should have said.”
“He’s not himself, you know? Like, I think he’s actually enjoying it. He’s getting off on humiliating me or something. Now he wants me to …do all these things. It’s crazy, I don’t know, I’ve already said too much.”
The protests from around the table were swift. They wanted all the details, immediately. Gingerly, I opened up to them about the kitchen boy, and Todd catching us. About Todd pushing me into the pool. About my mystery date with the two mystery men he had picked out. I even told them about the ‘gift’ of the silver dildo. They listened with rapt attention.
“Well, fuck me. You really should have said, Natty. That’s quite a predicament you’re in,” Jen said eventually, when I had told my sordid tale.
“Has he made you sign a contract, like what’s-his-name in that book?” said Annie, speaking up for seemingly the first time that afternoon.
“Is he actually literally into all the whips and chains and things? Oh my God when last did you check the diary?” Abby said.
“Shhh… there’s only one really important question here. Only one thing our friend Natasha here has to ask herself,” Jen said, playing the guru of the group.
“There is?” I said.
“Yes. Just one question. But answer it honestly.”
“Ok.”
“Do you like it?”
Their faces were eager, glazed over with alcohol and eating up the gossip like a fresh, gluten free cookie. I blushed. It might sound strange to you, but actually, I hadn’t much considered whether I liked it or not. For the last week, all I could do is think about him. His hard face. His eternally calm voice. What was his plan? Did he even have one?
“You know, I’ve been thinking so hard about it, and I think he wants me to like it, I think, but I can’t tell if he’s properly angry and if he really wants me to be, you know, punished.”
My voice trailed off.
“That’s not a very good answer, Natty.”
I laughed nervously.
“Fine. Then yes? I think I like it…”
They all giggled.
“Am I crazy here? Should I just leave? You don’t understand, I’m the bad guy here. Maybe he’s just gone, I don’t know. Maybe I should leave before he…”
“No!” Jen said quickly. “Don’t do any such thing. You said so yourself. You like it. So, stay. Marriage isn’t a bed of roses. If you guys end up making each other happy, who cares if the way you do it is a little fucked up?”
Annie tittered to herself. “It’s a lot fucked up though…” she said.
“Shut up,” Jen said. “You’ll see. I’m not kidding Natty, sometimes infidelity can be just the thing a relationship needs, you know?”
“That’s so dark,” said Annie.
“But it’s true. You’ll see. I say just go with it.”
“So, you get to sleep with a whole bunch of other men now while your husband watches?” Annie tried hard to suppress a smile. I hadn’t decided yet if she was horrified or jealous.
“I don’t know! I don’t know what he has planned. He said there were two of them. That’s all. And that I had to do whatever they told me.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
“Ew, Abby.”
“Shut up with your ‘ew’.”
“It isn’t fair though,” Annie said. “It’s not quite the reaction most men would have if they found their wife whoring around. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said.
“So when do you meet these two mystery men?”
“Tomorrow. That is, if he comes back, right?”
“Right.”
“Maybe I should just call it off and call a divorce lawyer or something. I mean, this is really fucked up…”
“Yeah maybe. But aren’t you curious?” Abby said.
I thought for a while.
“I am. I’m really curious,” I said at last.
“Lucky bitch,” said Annie at last. “Having your cake and eating it too. Lunch is on you today, as your punishment.”
“Sure, I love you guys,” I said.
“We love you too, you slut.”
Chapter Eleven - Natasha
The guy didn’t look like much to be afraid of.
He was kind of skinny, kind of out of shape, but nice enough looking. At any rate, the woman seemed pretty into it.
But then again, did it matter if she was into it or not? It was all very confusing.
She kind of just sat there and let him do his thing. He tied the velvety ropes round her arms and fumbled with them, winding them clumsily round the bed post. Then she just kind of laid there, blindfold on. Was she bored? Loving it? Hard to say. There were clothes and empty boxes on the floor of their bedroom.
I clicked ahead. He was on top of her now, hunching away into her open legs as she lay there, doing nothing. Huh. A bit boring. I clicked ahead some more. She had his dick in her mouth, and was moaning quietly, blindfold still on. I closed the video.
What a snooze. If that’s anything like what he had in mind for me, I was hoping I’d be able to stay awake long enough. I trilled my nails on the table and then tapped the keyboard. ‘Sex slave wife’ I told the search engine. Little blocks popped up, each a window filled with naked bodies. A catalogue of fucking. Here, maybe, I could find answers about what was to happen to me in within the next 2 hours, since Todd himself was keeping silent and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
My husband had gone rogue. I’m certainly no prude, but if he was going to pull some kinky thing on me, I wanted to be prepared.
I scrolled listlessly through most of the videos, nothing really catching my eye. “Hot wife shared with neighbor”. Interesting. I clicked. Interesting. A suited, bored looking guy sat on a sofa and tried to watch TV while his “wife” screwed a guy on the coffee table in front of him. Huh. I closed the window.
What should I search for next? “Cheating wife punished”. The little blocks that popped up were uglier. Tied, bound bodies. Breasts pulled. Contorted faces. I scrolled quickly past. That stuff was pretty out there. Surely those women weren’t actually enjoying it?
Again, did it matter though? That was kind of the point, I guess. If they made me do “everything”, was this kind of thing included? How much everything did he mean? And again, would it matter if I didn’t like it?
It was my punishment, after all. But what if they tied me down and I couldn’t escape?
I scrolled back through the videos again, forcing myself to look. It was nasty stuff. All the men were old and fat and ugly and mean looking. And the women too. Their bodies were all red and twisted. Fuck. I slammed the laptop shut. That wasn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it might be. I sighed and looked at the other item that had captured my attention for the last few hours.
