Chapter 4

She had lived this town for nearly ten years, when her parents obtained immigration visas to the United States. After high school graduation she had mastered English well-enough to take a low-level clerk's job with the city government. In all that time she never had a clue about the red-brick three-story building at the edge of downtown, only a few block from City Hall.

It seemed unused, she never saw any traffic in and out as she drove past it on her daily commute. The tall arched windows on the ground floor were all bricked over in somewhat newer brick than the structure itself, though the even the newer brick was decades old. The upper floor windows, similarly extravagant, all seemed permanently blacked out with heavy, dark curtains.

But the building was well maintained. It just didn't appear to be in use. So it was a surprise to Martina but not a shock when Drew pulled their car down the narrow alley between the neighboring urgent care clinic and the solid old structure. The center of the block, which had probably been shared commons or even a small park in the original design of the 19th century block plan, was now occupied by a two story concrete block building, attached to the rear of the main structure.

The only entrance to either building appeared to be a garage door that opened automatically as Drew approached in the couple's new black Jaguar. Drew had always bragged to Martina that his obsession with The Order would pay off in greater success and wealth for the couple, and the Jaguar, replacing her husband's aging Honda Civic, was one of the tangibles example of that curiously growing prosperity, as was the new black organza cocktail dress she wore, and the new diamond necklace and earrings that she wore along with it.

Drew pulled the car into a concrete room slightly smaller than their two car garage. There was another rolling door in front of them, large enough to drive the car through had it been opened, but it remained shut as the other door closed.

Her husband pressed a button next to what looked like elevator doors, and two steel panels doors slid open to reveal a vestibule, slightly larger than a typical elevator, richly adorned dark wood paneling on the walls, subtle indirect lighting, and what appeared to be black marble tile on both the floor and ceiling. When the doors shut behind them, the room seemed like it had no entrance and no exits, just solid paneling all around.

Her husband took her by the hand. "Don't be stupid and don't embarrass me, Martina."

After a few long moments of silence the apparently seamless paneled wall in front of them opened into a grand sitting room where other members of the secret society awaited their entrance. It was the most elegant setting Martina had ever seen outside a movie, resplendent in dark paneling and tastefully adorned with furnishings richly upholstered in red leather and ornately carved wood.

The portly county sheriff, perhaps the most recognizable of local celebrities, dressed in finely tailored tuxedo, turned and flashed a bright smile at the new couple. "Neophyte Stern! So glad you could make it this evening. And this must be your lovely bride Martina." He strode across the room confidently and took her hand in his beefy fist, lifting the back of her hand upward and kissing it gently. "We're so happy to have you join us, my dear. Your husband has told us so much about you but I have no idea why he was so modest about your incredible beauty."

She blushed deeply at the compliment. However deserved it was, and truly, Martina was a singular beauty, she had been raised to be humble by her poor, hard-working Eastern European immigrant parents, and any attention to her attractiveness never failed to put her off guard. Perhaps that was the reason she had become so enamored of Drew. In the early part of their courtship, his compliments flowed like sweet, clear water. She never realized they emerged from a poisoned well.

"Thank you so much, Adeptus Myers. I'm honored that you invited her tonight." Martina looked around the room and noticed that all the men were gathered around her and her husband in the center of the space seated in armchairs and couches, and all the other wives, dressed just as elegantly as she was, were clustered in twos and threes around the edge of the room in more simple, straight-back chairs.

They all stared critically at the new arrival, and some whispered back and forth with looks of concern. She realized that every pair of eyes in the room was trained directly on her, and she blushed hotly again. She recognized many of the men and women as prominent members of the local community, but was surprised that there was no one here from her regular circle of friends and coworkers.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of The Order, my dear," the sheriff started to pull her toward the closest group of men, but her husband held her hand for a moment, leaning forward to whisper urgently.

"Curtsey like I taught you ... don't fuck this up or you'll be sorry."

Martina nearly stumbled as her husband let her go and the sheriff continued forward. When they reached the first group of attentive older gentlemen her guide led her forward with his hand on the smooth bare skin of her lower back. Positioning her right next to the round table where the men's drinks rested. "High council, I present Martina."

She took her cue and curtseyed deeply. It was a little more difficult than it had been in the store, since she was not dressed in four inch heels instead of barefooted, but she managed. Since she wasn't wearing a bra and her thong panties were in her husband's pants pocket. Martina also managed to display her womanly charms completely, front and back. She heard the hushed conversations across the room pause as her bare pussy and anus came into view, and then heard a murmur of appreciation and approval.

All around the room she was led, at each cluster of chairs she was positioned so that the prior group of men got a good look at her cunt while the ones in front gazed upon her pointy little breasts and erect nipples.

After displaying her chest to the last table, her portly escort directed her to curtsey once more to the men of the high council. This time as she held the curtsey, his beefy hand strayed down her back, past the hem of her uplifted dress, and down along the parted crack of her ass. As she tried to maintain her composure she felt his thick middle finger press against the puckered ring of her butthole, and then drifted lower, between her nether lips.

"Gentlemen of The Order. I present Martina." He parted her with his finger and rubbed the entrance of her pussy. It seemed as though he was probing rather than trying to excite her or derive any pleasure herself.

"Thank you my dear. You may take a seat over there." He pointed to an empty seat with a group of women near the entrance of the room. Her husband had a strange look. He was upset, not angry. She had done everything he had expected without resistance. Drew approached the sheriff who had seated himself at the High Council after releasing Martina.

"Adeptus, why have you asked her to sit with the novices? She did everything as you ordered."

"She's not ready, Neophyte Stern." The answer came from the man at the top of the semi-circle, not from the sheriff.

"Please, Archmage, take her into the Circle ceremony. I will make sure she complies."

"The ritual has been explained to you, Neophyte. For the trials she may either consent or surrender. But to be admitted to the Circle, she must consent. There is no compliance or surrender in the end. The ultimate decision must be hers, either to join the Virtuous Circle, or to be released. You cannot coerce or force her in that decision."

"But Archmage, I know her ... she may seem willful and stubborn, but if I compel her through the trials, she will give her consent to the ultimate decision."

"Enough, Neophyte! She is your wife, not a temple captive, and is to be treated as your wife according to the sacred laws. Do I need to remind you that you squandered the only forgiveness The Order will ever bestow on you during your rite of initiation?"

"No sir, but you said that..."

"We will not speak of these things further outside the Temple," the older man interrupted sharply. "The decision is not yours, and it has been made. The High Council does not reconsider or bargain."

"Yes, Archmage, I understand."

"I'm not sure you do, Neophyte. Tread lightly."

Drew kept his distance from Martina for the next hour. Her husband followed the same path she had followed through the hierarchy of The Order. Each such meeting began with much back-slapping and handshaking among the men, and with many a longing look directed toward his wife, and ended with condolences and reassurances.

The women sitting near Martina did not speak to her. They hardly spoke at all and when they did it was furtive whispers ventriloquized through smiling faces.

When Drew had completed his circuit through the Order, the sheriff rose and took him by the elbow.

"Neophyte, we are ready to begin. You are responsible for the rite of opening tonight."

"Thank you, Adeptus."

"Do not disappoint us this time."

Through the back wall of the sitting room a muffled gong could be heard. Drew walked to that wall, where he disappeared behind a red velvet curtain into a hidden doorway. All of the other men followed through the same exit. Many of the women, though none of those sitting close to Martina, started to move toward a dark blue curtain that covered a doorway on the opposite end of the back wall.

Martina rose and started toward that curtain, guessing that the women were supposed to enter through a separate door.

"Hey!" one of the nearby wives whispered urgently. "Hey, stay here. That's not for us." Martina turned back toward her.

"Us? What is 'us'?"

The room was almost emptied now except for the wives clustered near the entrance. "We're not in the Virtuous Circle. We can't go back there." By the end of her sentence the room had emptied of all but the four women who were seated next to Martina, and there was no more reason to whisper. "I'm Carol, by the way. Come over and sit with us."

The other women pulled chairs around a table, and one of them broke out a deck of cards. One of the others went to a nearby wine cabinet and selected four bottles that she brought back to the table.

"This is Sophia," Carol nodded toward the woman shuffling the deck, "And that's Barbara getting us wine, and Jill. Welcome to the Wicked Square ... although I guess now that there are five of us we're the Wicked Pentagon."

"More like Evil Pentagram!" Jill joked. "That's the way this crowd sees us."

"Don't tell my husband that or he'll be making little cloth symbols for us to wear," Sophia giggled.

"And knowing him he'll want you to wear nothing but the little cloth symbols to the next meeting."

Carol patted the seat next to her and Martina sat down. "What just happened?"

Sophia reached over and took Martina's hand. "Don't worry, honey. The boys have just decided not to invite you to their depraved sex club, that's all."

"Sex club? Is that what this place is?"

"Don't listen to Sophia, honey ... none of us knows what they do back there ... we just like to make up stories."

Sophia objected. "Well it's not too hard to figure out, Jill. They did the same thing to you as they did to poor Martina here. They did the same thing to all of us, parade us around the room with our tits and asses hanging out. And it you don't get all hot and wet like that slut Sarah did, then you can't go in their secret club room and get fucked by the wrinkled old pricks of the high council!"

"Is that true? I got rejected because I didn't get excited?"

Carol spoke up again. "I've been here longer than any of the other women, Martina. I'll tell you what I know is true because I've seen it and what I think is true because I've felt it. I know that every time a wife gets brought here for her introduction her hubby picks out some special dress that exposes her whenever she does that ridiculous curtsey they teach us. I know that every wife is led around the room and they make her expose herself to all the men of the Order, and the man who leads her around cops a feel at the end of the process."

Jill interrupted, "you got off easy, Martina. When I was led around the room that pervie old man Becker had his thumb jammed up my ass the whole time."

"Becker, like Mayor Becker?"

"Yeah, gross old bastard. Probably the only part of him hard enough to get inside a woman, and he sticks it up my butt."

"C'mon Jill, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead."

"Oh, you c'mon, Barb. He's not dead; that stroke just put him in a coma. And who are you to talk? You had that dreamy District Attorney lead you around. If he'd been with me I'd have creamed all down my legs and I'd be in back tonight sucking your husband's dick right now."

"Better you than me!" Barbara laughed. "If you really want to suck Larry's dick stop by the house sometime! Maybe then I won't have to do it so much."

Carol interjected. "If I can continue with a minimum of interruption? Anyway, the final part is like The Order's version of Groundhog Day. If your escort's finger comes out of your hole wet, then they let you join the circle, but if it comes out dry, you aren't ready for the initiation. Now we all figure they wouldn't give a sex test if there wasn't sex going on in the back room, but none of us knows for sure. Our husbands don't talk about it, and we learn not to ask. But I do know that for a week after the meeting where the wives are brought in, my husband can't get enough of my pussy, so I figure they aren't back there talking politics."

"Your husbands are back there fucking other women and you don't care?" Martina was incredulous.

All the other women laughed. Carol asked "What kind of car does Drew have these days?"

"A Jaguar."

"Is it new?"

"Yes."

"And he used to drive?"

"A Honda Civic."

"And he didn't change jobs or close any big contracts since he joined The Order, so the money isn't because he's suddenly a successful surgeon instead of the semi-successful real estate agent he's always been. And the dress you are wearing cost $3500, and that's nothing compared to the diamond earrings and the necklace you are wearing."

Martina stared open mouthed, "How do you know all this? How do you know what my dress is worth?"

"My last name is Petrie, dear. You bought that at my husband's store. And Sophia's husband works as a warehouse manager for UPS, and Jill's is a Customs officer, and Barbara's is a travel agent, and yet we all live in big houses and drive cars that are worth more than we could possibly afford, and we women don't have to work another day in our lives. If the price of that is every month or so I have to come here and put on a pretty dress and drink wine and play cards with my girlfriends while my hubby gets his crank yanked by somebody else's slutty wife ... oh well, I guess I can take it."

The group dissolved into laughter. Martina's eyes were starting to well up. Carol noticed and stopped laughing, shushing the other women. "It's okay honey, you'll get used to it. A lot of men have sex on the side and their wives get nothing out of it except a nasty divorce and a deadbeat who isn't able to pay his alimony."

"It's not that," Martina sniffed. "I just don't know how you get used to the abuse and the threats and the humiliation."

"Oh, Martina, that's awful. That's not part of the deal. At least not for any of us. You shouldn't have to put up with that."

The tears, so long held inside, started to flow freely down her cheeks. "He's been so different. Forcing me to have sex with him whether I want to or not, wanting me to fuck other men while he watches, disgracing me and even beating me in front of them. He used to be nice before his initiation, or at least he wasn't so mean all the time."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Almost six months."

Jill spoke up, "six months ago? That was around the time that Bill came back from one of his 'weekend trips.' I remember this time because usually we end up spending the whole next day in bed. This time he spent the next week distracted and distant, he didn't even touch me. I remember hearing him sniffling in bed one night, like he was crying. But that couldn't have been right, because I have never seen him cry."

"I remember that weekend too. Larry came home every night that week and drank himself to sleep."

Carol and Sophia, the longest tenured members of the newly christened Evil Pentagram, said nothing. They each held Martina's hands, stroked her hair, and comforted her as she cried.

At the end of the evening one of the men appeared at the door to the vestibule, though Martina had no idea how he had gotten there from the other side of the room without being seen. One by one, he called the names of the uninitiated wives. As they were summoned, they bid their goodbyes to the group, and went alone through the paneled doors.