Having been caught cheating with a neighbor, Audrey's husband, Ford, has given her a choice. Accept divorce in the face of an iron-clad pre-nup, or become his total sex-slave and endure his sadistic revenge. Things spiral further out of control when the mysterious Eleri enters the scene to help Ford refine his wife's torment. Audrey finds her life made even more desperate as she is exposed to Dr. Shellcross, a mad scientist, whose considerable intellect is bent toward one purpose: twist the human sexual response until it begs and screams!
Length: ~39,000 words
Attributes: B&D, D&S, S&M, Non-consensual.
Available on Amazon.com for 99¢
Bang! The door flew open and slammed back against the wall. Ryan and Cal surged into the room. Ryan looked down into the view-finder of the digital video recorder he was operating. He panned it right at me, and, reflexively, I covered my nakedness as best I could with my hands, a forearm across my bare breasts and a hand over my blond bush and between my legs.
Turk jumped up from the bed and charged at them. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he shouted, bristling.
Cal put himself between Turk and Ryan and menaced Turk with a stun-gun. Triggering the thing’s electric snapping to attract Turk’s attention to the threat. Turk was bigger than Cal, but the stun-gun made a good equalizer.
“Who the fuck are you guys?” Turk asked, sliding to a stop in front of Cal with his hands up in surrender.
“Best friends of the husband of the lady you’ve been fucking, douche-bag,” Cal said, grimly.
“Smile for the camera, Audrey,” Ryan jeered, continuing to shoot. “Work it, baby!” Show it to me.… Now give me ‘I am such a slut …!’ Ooo, hurt me, Audrey!“
I’d been shocked by their sudden appearance, but I finally got it together enough to pull the sheet up and wrapped it around myself. “Fuck you, Ryan.”
“Could you really? Even after doing Turk-the-jerk all afternoon?” he retorted.
It hadn’t been all afternoon. Only about an hour. We’d done some blow and smoked a joint first. The baggie of marijuana and vial of cocaine sat on the table next to the pack of rolling papers, lighter, and the business card we’d used to groom the coke. It was one of Ford’s. There were two lines on the glass, all ready for after. Ryan panned that way now that I wasn’t giving him anything to shoot.
Turk moved toward the table and the drugs. Ryan turned the camera on him. “These are your drugs, then?” he asked.
Turk stopped dead, looked into the camera, and put his hands up again. “No way man, those are her drugs,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at me.
“Turk!” I snapped. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised at his reaction. Actually, they were my drugs, but still.… I moved toward the table, too.
Cal stepped forward and stiff-armed me back onto the bed. “No, Audrey. That’s evidence.” He used the business card to sweep the two unsnorted lines into a small zip-lock, then dropped that into a bigger one along with the bag of pot, vial of coke, lighter, papers, and Ford’s card. I noticed as he worked that he was wearing surgical gloves. In fact they both were.
“Get dressed and go home,” Cal said, tossing my shorts and t-shirt at me. “Ford will be in touch, so stay by your phone.”
I moved toward the bathroom for some privacy, but Ryan blocked my way with the camera back on me. “You’ll get dressed right here, Audrey.” He snatched the sheet from around my shoulders. I dressed quickly, and Ryan taped the whole thing.
After I slipped into my sandals, I looked for my purse. Cal was holding it. I reached out to take it from him. “No, Audrey.” He handed me the front door key to the house that he’d removed from my key ring. “You won’t be needing any of the rest. Just go straight home.”
A minute later, as I walked down the street in the early-evening heat, Ryan honked and waved as he drove by me in my Accord. Cal pulled up beside me in his car and put the window down. He was on the left side of the street, and so I could see and hear him easily. I squatted down and hooked my fingers over the edge of the open door. The cool air-conditioned atmosphere inside the car wafted over me and it was like water to a person too long in the desert.
Cal was the one of the three men I’d known the longest, was my childhood best-friend’s husband, and we always got along. “You can not believe how incredibly pissed Ford is, Audrey. I’ve never seen him like this. If you want to work things out with him, tread carefully.”
“Thanks, Cal. How about dropping me at home? It’s too freaking hot to walk and these sandals weren’t built for it.”
He bit his lip, shook his head, put the window up, and pulled away.
I didn’t go home. I went to see Rochelle, instead. She was my BFF and we’d known each other since the third-grade. I would have called her, but I didn’t have my phone anymore, and didn’t even have pocket change to use at one of the pay-phones in the convenience-stores I passed along the way. The sandals looked great but were shit for walking. I took them off, hot-footed it across intersections, and tried to stay to the grass medians and even house-front lawns to keep from burning my feet. Fortunately, it was only a mile-and-a-half home and a little less to Rochelle’s. She looked tired and scared when she answered the door. I think she’d been crying.
“They got you, too?”
Her statement was only marginally a question and it confirmed my suspicion that there was more to this than just me. “What are we going to do?” I asked.
“What can we do?” she groaned. “The mortgage, cars, everything are in their names. There are no kids. I assume that since Ford did the prenup on me and Kiri, he did yours too?”
I nodded.
“The most we could get in support is five-hundred a month, since we’re all under the five year window. None of us supported them through school or anything, so there’s no grounds to contest it. Believe me, I talked to a lawyer friend of mine. I haven’t worked since before I got married. I can’t go back to waiting tables.”
“When did they catch you?” I asked.
“Day before yesterday. Ford and Ryan taped everything.”
“I thought you didn’t do drugs?”
“I don’t, but they caught me with Corvina. I’d have warned you, but,” she looked away and sniffed back her tears, “my dad is old, it would just kill him to find out …that.” She was crying again.
“And Kiri?”
“Yesterday. Ford’s been sitting on her since, so that’s why she didn’t warn you.”
Ford was supposed to be out of town on business for the week. I guess he was playing amateur detective instead. “What are they going to do to us?” I asked.
“Cal said they’re going to give us a chance to be good wives again, but it wouldn’t be easy. He said I shouldn’t leave the house until I was told to and that’s what I’m going to do. You should go home, now that they’ve got all of us, I don’t think it will be very long until we hear from them. Go home,” she said and close the door.
By the time I got home, the sun was on the horizon, but the streets were still griddle-hot. My T-shirt was glued to my body with sweat, and it was trickling down between my cheeks in back. I’d burned my feet once or twice on the hot street, and started putting my sandals on when I had a long stretch of pavement to cross then taking them off again when I reached the safety of grass. My feet felt raw and abused.
Ford’s car wasn’t there and neither was he. I went straight to the bathroom, shedding my sweaty things as I went, and put myself under a soothingly cool shower. I turned my face into the spray and opened my mouth to quench my thirst. I let the water run over me and thought about the last three years. Chellie and I were friends since we were ten. She met and married Cal then they introduced me to Ford. We were married a month later. Then Ryan and Kiri got married two months after that. Since Cal, Ford, and Ryan were close, it was natural that the three of us would become a trio as well. They were very busy with work and guy stuff, and we’d occasionally cover for each other when we wanted to get wild. It got to be a habit. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Ford anymore, it’s just that I’d gotten used to getting my affection and excitement elsewhere. I liked the thrill, the danger, the raw sexiness of it all. Recently, he’d been making an effort to spend more time with me and I’d been making excuses. To hear the others talk, they were all trying to make things work better with us, but we’d ignored the signs. And they picked up on our extra-marital activities, I thought. Maybe they’ll be reasonable. It’s their fault too, after all. Then, when I got out of the shower, I found the note on my pillow, and I wasn’t so sure.
Audrey,
I’m not sure there’s any way we can forgive you three, for what your bad wives’ club did to us, but we have agreed to give you a chance. You will have to work hard to redeem yourselves. If we say “Jump,” you say, “Yes, sir! How high?” It’s either that or sign the divorce decree in the top desk drawer, take your shit, and get the fuck out. If you’re willing to try to work things out, be at 556 Drew Avenue at 9:00 P.M. Not 8:45. Not 9:12, but at 9:00, sharp. There’s money for a taxi on top of the divorce papers.
Ford
It was 8:27. I wanted to check the distance I needed to travel using Google Maps, but my login was gone from the computer. I found a paper map and discovered that 556 Drew Avenue was only a ten minute drive. The Toltec Hotel was just a few minutes walk and there was always a taxi available there. That left me twenty minutes. I decided I’d use them to make myself sexy, that never hurt negotiations.
I opened my closet to find all my clothes were gone. My two big trunks were there instead of in storage, and by the weight of them, they were full. Both were sealed with a big label across the gap between the lid and the body on which Ford had scrawled: If you break the seals on these, you might as well sign the papers and get out!
Everything was gone from my vanity too. There wasn’t even a hairbrush. The drawers were empty; not even a change of underwear. All the money I had was the twenty for the taxi.
I put my sweaty things back on and combed my fingers through my short hair to arrange it as best I could. Then I waited. It was only five minutes, but it seemed like forever. I was scared I realized. Ford never got angry, I thought. He really had been very good to me. The house was big and in a great neighborhood. I got a maid in to help with cleaning once a week. I had abundant spending money, a nice car, and all the clothes I’d asked for. I began to feel guilty. When I looked at the clock, it was 8:45. I ran out of the house, banging the door locked behind me, and got to the Toltec hot and sweaty, again. So much for the shower.
Another taxi was pulling away when I arrived at Drew Avenue. Kiri and Rochelle were standing in front of the building. I got out of the taxi, paid and tipped the driver, and got back two bucks; all the money I had left in the world. I waved and went to join them.
“They could have had us all come in one cab,” Chellie said.
“Obviously, they didn’t want us to talk before now,” I remarked.
“This is it? Really?” Kiri wondered, looking at the dark rundown place.
“It’s the correct address. Drew Avenue, not street, lane, circle, or place,” I said.
“Cool’s Strip Club,” Chellie said. “Looks closed, thank goodness.”
“Yeah, but for how many years?” Kiri added wryly.
There was a ‘for lease’ sign in the front that gave the name of the leasing agent and a phone number. Kiri saw me looking at the sign. “It’s the right place,” she groaned. “That’s Ryan’s company.”
I started to go up to the dark front doors of the place, but was interrupted.
“This way, ladies.” We turned toward the voice. She was standing at the corner of the building, back-lit by the street lights behind. The curls of her long blond mane threw glints of light our way, but her face was in shadow. She stood with her hands on her hips with one foot thrust out at a cocky angle. Her silhouette revealed that she was tall and built, both top and bottom, her dress was short, and her heels were high.
“This way,” she repeated with a beckoning flip of her fingers. She disappeared around the side of the building and the clicking of her heels marked the way for us. We reached the corner just in time to see her disappear into the building through a side door. The lights from inside splashed the sidewalk with a pool of yellow.
“Who is she?” Kiri asked, poking me in the shoulder.
“How would I know?” I snapped and felt bad the moment the words left my lips. I sighed, then said, “Sorry, Kiri, I’m on edge.” I gave her a pat and stroke on the arm. “Let’s just go and find out. This has Ford’s evil genius written all over it.”
Ford had, in our early months, staged some elaborate scenes to show his affection. On our six-month anniversary, he’d sent me a photo of himself in a tux with a note that said have the driver take you to get yourself something appropriate. A minute later, the driver knocked at the door. He ushered me to the limo and I went shopping. The gown I bought was backless gold lamé. Then the driver took me to meet Ford and the restaurant turned out to be a low-rent Italian dive. When I walked in, I felt very out of place. He rose, kissed me, then seated me. When I asked him why we got so dressed up to come to a place like that, he said that it was so that we’d be the best dressed people in the place. We had a couple of glasses of Chianti which was excellent, then got in the limo and went to eat at Bolero, where our clothes fit in perfectly.
I reached the open door and peered along the hallway that pierced the building. The woman stood at a bend in the narrow hall twenty-feet away. There were several doors down each side.
“Find your dressing room, change, and come out to the stage,” she said, then disappeared again, around the corner.
“What the fuck,” Kiri whispered behind me.
The first door on the left had a little sign that read Kiri. “This is you,” I said to her. The middle right said Rochelle, and Audrey was on the end at the left.
The ‘school-girl’ outfit consisted of a tiny white halter top with a flaring collar, a plunging neckline, and some red plaid trim that matched the tiny waist-hugging skirt. The ankle-high tennis shoes were red and white and had four inch heels. There were no panties, so I left on my white cotton briefs even though they were less than fresh. I brushed out my short blond hair, at least there was a brush. I stopped and looked at it. Hey! This is my brush! I realized. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but I’d had it for years and knew its dents and dings well. I put on the make-up that was there. Dark-red lipstick, dark eye-shadow, and mascara. I did the eyes understated to go with the outfit. I thought the lips clashed, but when I was finished, I thought the whole effect was pretty good. It would definitely get Ford’s motor running, I thought. I wonder if he picked the outfit?
I was the first one out in the hall, but Rochelle followed shortly. Her outfit was more straightforwardly strip-club. Black crotchless fishnet pantyhose, and a black shelf-bra. The shoes were strappy, stiletto heeled pumps. She had her long black hair done in a ponytail high on her head.
Kiri was dressed in a formfitting, but shear blue spandex body suit. With a broad leather belt around her waist that had a large ring in the front and some smaller ones at the sides. The suit had an open crotch and openings for each breast. The heels on her black patent ankle boots looked about as bad as mine.
“At least you’re covered up,” Kiri said to me.
“Don’t keep me waiting!” the woman called from somewhere around the corner.
Kiri and Rochelle came up behind me. Rochelle put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little shove forward. Hey! How did I get elected the leader in this farce? I wondered. Just past the dressing rooms, the hall teed. We were too far back in the building for left to go anywhere large. When I glanced that way, I saw an empty break room, so I turned right.
We came to the club’s small backstage area. A brightly lit diaphanous curtain stretched across the back of the stage. I looked out and saw that the stage led to a runway down to a small circular stage-let near the center of the club itself.
“School-girl!” the woman yelled. “Get your pretty little ass down here!”
I felt another shove from behind and moved out onto the stage, blinking into the lights. Not as bright as the theater I’d done in school, but I couldn’t make out the speaker yet.
“Yes, honey, you! Get down here!”
Her irritated voice lured me across to center stage and the short runway. I turned out onto it, had a minor heel-malfunction, got that under control, and made it down to the small circular sub-stage. It was about twelve-feet across, bathed in light from a stationary spotlight above, and had a pair of floor to ceiling brass stripper-poles placed about six-feet apart. I put my hand on one of them and turned toward the figure seated in-shadow just at the end.
“That was pathetic,” she groaned loudly. “When you come onto my stage, you have to do it like you own the place. Like you’re a crazy-insane biotch, and nobody should fuck with you. Like you’re a wild animal getting ready to tear the throat out of your prey. Not like you wandered in from the burbs and don’t know where you are or what the fuck is going on. Now, go back and try it again.”
I started to turn to do just that, then I stopped. Something was building inside, and that something turned out to be anger. I whirled on her. “No! … You know what? … Fuck you! I may have to take shit from Ford, but I don’t have to take it from you!”
I would have sworn that no one could vault in five-inch spikes, but that’s what she did, up from her chair, one foot on the chair next to it, and then the other one onto the stage. Easy as that, one, two, three. The top of her head came out of the shadows first, long blond locks swinging free. Next, a flash as her dangling silver earrings threw a glitter from the spot. Her form fitting dress was almost the same color as her flesh, so it almost looked like she wasn’t wearing anything. She took one big pair of strides and she was right in my face, towering over me. I stared up at her, and her eyes were done-up dark and huge. “Actually,” she growled quietly, and one hand snaked up under my arm to grab my short hair at the back of my head and the other caught my opposite-wrist that was moving to fend her off. She was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her scent, and a lock of her blond mane brushed my forehead. “Actually, you little cunt, Ford says that you do have to take whatever shit I want to dish. Otherwise, you should just sign the papers and drag your crap out of his house. Now that’s clear, isn’t it?” She yanked my head up and down by my hair in a nod three times. “Now, go back and try again.”
She shoved me away, back toward the main stage. My anger had flipped into fear for several very basic reasons: she was huge, she was strong, she was mean, and, apparently, she had Ford’s mandate to mistreat me in anyway that stroked her sadistic nature. It was completely clear that she just enjoyed what she done. I staggered back, and almost fell on my ass, but I got those impossible shoes under me again, pivoted, and made my way back. I could see Kiri and Chellie, trying to hide just offstage, but not so far off that they couldn’t follow what was happening.
On my way back up-stage, fear flipped back into anger. Not at this woman though, at Ford and, to some degree, at myself for being such a weak-assed pussy. I’d half-convinced myself to just keep walking, get a taxi back home, get my trunks and go. Then everything unwound again. Go where? Get a taxi? With what money? Two bucks won’t get me anywhere. The bus, maybe? Sadness sparred with anger, and anger kicked the crap out of it. I’ll show both of them, I thought.
I didn’t go to off-stage where Rochelle and Kiri stood. I went to center stage, spun around, feet wide, and hands on my hips. I looked across thirty feet straight down the runway to were the woman stood, a back-lit silhouette. Don’t fuck with me! I thought. I’ll rip your heart out and stomp on it! I headed back down-stage at a saunter, that turned into a strut, and became an arm-swinging stride. I started with my chin up, but as I went, I slowly tucked it, like a boxer heading into round three to annihilate her opponent. When I reached the poles, I stepped out wide, one hand gripping the pole on my right and the other on my cocked hip. I looked that bitch right in the eye and said, “How’s that, coach?”
Her stony face, cracked, spread into a smile, and then a grin. Clap … clap … clap, she applauded slowly. “I knew you could do it.”
She jumped lightly back down off the stage and turned to look at me. “Wait a fucking minute,” she exclaimed. “Come here!”
Nervously I approached wondering what I’d done to upset her.
Lightning quick she shot a hand under my tiny skirt and grabbed the crotch of my briefs. “This outfit doesn’t have any fucking panties.” She produced a knife from somewhere. I pulled away, afraid she was going to cut me, over-balanced, and fell on my ass. She pulled my panties down around my ankles and slashed them off.
“That’s better,” she said, then, “Next!” she shouted at my two friends.
And that’s how my training to be a stripper began.
It was a lot more involved than I ever would have expected. And, it was a lot more physically demanding than I ever dreamed. We were all exhausted, but Kiri was having a hard time even beyond that. Eleri — the Amazon had finally divulged a name — was ragging on her for the fifth time about the current pole maneuver, which gave Chellie and I another moment’s break.
“I don’t know if she can take much more of this,” Chellie remarked. She took a sip from her bottle of water and watched the student get raked over the coals yet again.
“… clumsy cow … graceless … stupid …” The volume punctuation that Eleri spoke with meant that we only heard the insults from where we were sitting.
“Yeah. But you know how Kiri is, by tomorrow she’ll be doing this better than both of us. Then we’ll be the ones getting screamed at.” It was clear from the way Eleri talked that the men thought we had too much free time and that learning to strip was going to be consuming that for the foreseeable future.
“That’s going to suck,” she said. “It almost looked like you’d had enough right at the start.”
“I had. I almost walked out. Then I realized I have no car, no money for a taxi, and no where to go. I guess I could get mom to send me some money and go back home, but …” I trailed off.
“How did this happen to us?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess none of us was paying enough attention. I include the men in that, too.”
“They had work. You remember how it was that first year, they were all busy. Ford had all those cases that went sour on him, Ryan almost got sacked for not moving enough property, and Cal was traveling to customer sites all the time. There was a month where he wasn’t home at all.”
“I think that’s when it started,” I said. “It was in there that we started covering for each other.”
“Right.”
“By the time things settled out, we were hooked on doing what we were doing.”
“Cal has been trying harder for a while, but for some reason, I just couldn’t really see it.”
“Same with Ford,” I added.
“Now they’re pissed, and I can’t blame them. As far as I know, they’ve been faithful.”
Shortly after that Kiri got the move and Eleri moved on.
I limped up to the front door at three-thirty in the morning still in my school-girl outfit. Someone lifted our clothes from the dressing rooms leaving only our house keys behind. So much for my two dollars, I was broke again. Eleri wouldn’t say who or why, but she brought us home in her car, and I was the last to be dropped off. “Same time tomorrow night,” she’d said as I got out of the car. “Don’t be late.”
There was no sign of Ford when I got inside. I went into the bedroom and there it was, a brass-stripper pole there in the corner of the room where the big chair used to be. I had to touch it to ensure that it was real. In the opposite corner was a heavy wooden cupboard, tall and wide with drawers on the bottom and cabinets at the top. I couldn’t open it, but I also couldn’t find a keyhole anywhere just a funny little slot on the side big enough for a credit card. What are you up to Ford?
There was nothing I could do about it now, so I showered and dropped into bed, thoroughly exhausted. My sleep was troubled by dreams that were dark and disturbing, but evaporated instantly in the morning, leaving a tense uneasiness behind.
I slept in until almost noon. I might have stayed in bed except I needed to pee and once I took care of that, I was ravenous. I put some bread in the toaster and water in the coffee pot, and while I waited for that to be ready I stretched my sore muscles. Who knew being an exotic dancer was such hard work. Once my calves, hamstrings, and quads were warmed up. I stood naked in the center of the kitchen, lifted my foot and got my hand cupped around the heel. I straightened the leg out to the front and pulled it almost up to my face, then let it turn out to the side with my fingers hooked over the blade of my foot. Finally, I brought it behind me and up by my head. By the time I’d completed the same sequence with the other leg, the coffee and toast were ready. I smeared the toast with almond butter for protein and jam for calories and poured my coffee for the even more important caffeine. When I was finished, I cleaned up after myself. Who knew if the maid would still be coming or not. I didn’t want to let the place go just in case I had to take care of it on my own again. The bathroom was a mess, so I got out the cleaning supplies and gave it a good scrub. The rest of the place was fine.
I have nothing at all to wear, I realized. The school girl outfit smelled like week-old stale sweat. I needed the outfit for tonight, so I hand washed it and hung it up to dry. I opened Ford’s closet looking for something to wear and it was empty. He’s taken his things away, I thought. Same with the dresser; drawer after empty drawer. Except … there was a leather belt in the last one, but not the usual sort of belt. This one was black leather, narrow, maybe half-an-inch wide, and had a chrome buckle. Clipped in the middle was a cigarette-pack sized box out of which a cable ran to a funny looking headset. The signature-less note said, “Turn me on and wear me.” The box had a little sliding switch, and when I shoved it over, a green L.E.D. lit up. I put the belt around my waist and buckled it. I nestled the little box into the small of my back, then slipped the head-set on. It had an ear piece and a little mic that ran onto my cheek.
“Hello?” I said into the mic.
Hello, Audrey. It was Ford’s voice.
“Look, I’m sorry sweetie. Please just come home so we can talk face-to-face. I’m tired of this stupid game.”
I can’t, he said. I’m not sure what I’d do if I was standing there with you, I’m so angry.
“It’s your fault, too,” I snapped.
I heard second-hand through Cal that you felt that way, but I don’t understand.
“Well …” I was going to launch into my ‘you guys were super busy and so we had to find ways to entertain ourselves’ speech, but I stopped. It hit me, like a hammer-blow between the eyes, what had really happened. They were busy with work. They knew they’d be poor company, and they encouraged us to do things together. Have fun. Travel. Take classes. Everything, to make up for having to do without them. I remembered Ford crawling into bed very late, night after night. He’d hold me and ask, “Do you want to make love? I’m fragged, but a quickie, maybe?” Once in a long while, I’d say yes. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep after taking care of me and before he’d had his. In the morning, he’d be gone again. That went on for months. Guilt seeped up from the basement of my soul. I was wrong, it’s not his fault at all. I vacillated. I wanted to go on and give him the explanation anyway, rather than admit I was wrong, but in the end I couldn’t. I have to own this. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I was just plain wrong. Is there any way that you can forgive me?”
Maybe.… I have a fantasy. Maybe all men have it.
What is it?“ I asked. I’d become very nervous. I’d always sensed that Ford was bottling up something inside. Some kind of dark secret. ”Let me fulfill it for you,“ I offered. There was a part of me that wanted him to accept the offer, but part of me was afraid to explore this dark territory.
It’s not something I can put into a few words, but, ‘do exactly as I say’ is a good start.
“I’ll do anything,” I said sincerely, but my gut was twisted up on itself with nervousness.
Go into the bathroom.
“I’m there,” I said when I arrived.
Look into the full-length mirror.
“Okay, what now?”
Tease your nipples.
“What?”
Just do it!
I could just lie about it. How could he know? I thought, but I decided that it was better to just do as he asked. I began stroking, kneading, and gently twisting my nipples. They became hard and there was a twitch between my legs along with a growing wetness.
That’s very good, Audrey.
The way he said that made me think he could see me. I briefly wondered if he could have installed a camera in the bathroom. He let things go on for a few minutes, and I was beginning to feel like I wanted more. I left off with one hand and let it drop between my legs.
Stop! I didn’t say that you could touch yourself there!
“You can see me?” I exclaimed.
Of course, there’s a camera in the head-set. Now get that hand back on your nipples.
I returned the errant hand back to its assigned place and continued to work my nipples. Now that I knew that he could see me, it was all the more exciting.
Harder.
I squeezed my breasts and pinched my nipples harder.
Harder.
I increased the pressure and intensity again. It hurt more than a little bit. My mouth was open and my face screwed up with the pain.
Now grab your nipples, squeeze, stretch, and twist. Make your self scream.
I did as he directed me. I didn’t scream but I did whimper. “Please Ford, this hurts,” I said, easing up.
No, harder!
I reintensified my effort.
Keep doing it until you can think of something to say that will please me.
I gritted my teeth. What does he want to hear? I thought, but really I knew. “I’m a bad wife, and I deserve this and a lot more, Ford.”
That’s right, Audrey.… Now you can stop.
I released my nipples, but the returning blood flow caused a new round of agony to surge through them. I massaged them gently until the feeling subsided. Then took a tissue, blew my nose, and dabbed my eyes. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I could see the tiny lens of the camera built into the head-set by the ear-piece. Then it hit me just how absolutely turned on I was. I’m a bit of a masochist, I realized. “What now?”
Take the tweezers from the medicine cabinet, and get the stand-mirror from the vanity, and lay on the floor.
“I’m ready, Ford,” I said when I was on the bed room carpet with the two items.
Put your ankles behind your shoulders.
That wasn’t as crazy as it might sound. I’d been a gymnast in school, placed first in state even, and I was still very flexible. It was one of the things that Turk liked about me. Ford had showed some interest early in our relationship, but I found that kind of attention from my husband disturbing, and he’d left off after I embarrassed him with it. Now, I wondered if I’d made a mistake not giving him what he obviously wanted. I brought one leg up and hooked it under my shoulder, then the other one. Looking down between my legs, my blond-bush covered sex was on wide display.
Adjust the mirror so that we can see the rest of your cunt.
I’d told him I hated that word, but here and now, it sent a shiver through me. Cunt, I thought as I adjusted the mirror and the wet glistening and slightly parted lips swung into view in their entirety just above the brown, ridged eye of my anus.
Good. Now, one-by-one, pull out every hair on your cunt.
“No, Ford!” I cried.
Do it. Or sign the papers and get out. His statement was flat and unequivocal.
I started to unhook my ankles, stopped, and again reviewed my very limited options. I grasped a hair with the tweezers and pulled on it. The skin of my lips was loose, it stretched, and the hair didn’t want to come out. I used the other hand to hold the skin tight. Now, when I pulled, the hair came out bringing the root with it, too. It hurt but not as much as I expected.
Good, Audrey. Only five- or six-hundred to go. Better get a move on.… Oh, I’ve heard that the ones right around the clit really hurt coming out. Shall we save them all for last, or do a few now and again and then go back to work on the rest? Save all the pain for the end, or spread it out? What do you think?