Chapter 15

Pulling into the driveway, I had expected to get a quick shower in before starting on dinner for my husband. He obviously had other ideas, since he was already home.

My heart dropped as I pulled into the driveway and saw his car already parked in front of the garage. I glanced at the house, then at my filthy, slutty outfit. How was I to explain this one to him? Could I walk passed him, nonchalantly, and hop into the shower? My hand settled gear shift, ready in case I decided to drive off. Ready for a fast getaway. Instead, I just sat there, immobile. Getting up my nerve to switch off the ignition, to enter the house. Sweat was building under my arm pits, on my palms -- even the soles of my feet.

I closed my eyes, readying myself to face my husband. I decided I couldn't just tell him a story. I couldn't -- wouldn't -- sit out here and make up a lie. I would answer his questions and not elaborate on any of my answers. Nor would I offer more information than he has demanded. Oh, God, I hope things don't go too bad for me. Taking another deep breath, I forced myself out of the car, propelled by a need to get passed this major hurdle that the presence of my husband had created.

Behind me, I heard the car door slam shut. I ignored it as I headed to the back of the house, to the door that I dreaded entering. I rested my hand on the cheap aluminum latch and tugged open the flimsy screen door. I stopped. Took another deep breath. Exhaled slowly. I pushed open the more heavier, wooden door doing my best to keep calm.

He was no where in sight. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, felt the muscles relax just a bit and turning, I closed the door behind me, being much more sedate in my mannerisms. I knew my reprieve was going to be short -- he was still in the house -- somewhere. I walked purposely through the kitchen, not deeming to hide the echoed clicking sounds of my fuck-me heels as each hit the tile floor. I entered the dining room, the living-room and made my way right to the bathroom.

The door was closed. Ah, so this is where he was currently secreted away. Feeling much luckier, I headed down the hall to the bedroom. Happily, I entered the room, glad for a chance to remove the foul-smelling outfit before he could see me in it.

My smile disappeared, my heart sank and my panic returned. There, on the bed, was my husband. And the look on his face was an odd mixture of... ? Of what, I couldn't figure out exactly, but something was wrong. He should have been angry, surprised, shocked. But, the look on his face showed more. It showed... ? I couldn't quite think what that expression was, besides a hint of disgust -- probably from the sight of my outfit.

A door opened behind me. That was it. Who was in the bathroom? I turned and watched as a pretty brunette entered the room behind me. She stopped, stunned to see me standing there. Then, to my amazement -- or is that, to my amusement? -- she proceeded to look me over, head to toe. Well, two could play that game.

Ignoring my husband, I stared intently at the women, making sure I missed nothing. She was pretty. Well, more cute than pretty. She was small, standing about five feet tall. Long, brown, wavy hair flowed down her shoulders, covering her rather smallish breasts. I reached out, boldly pushing the long, silky tresses aside, revealing the light brownish colour of her nipples. She didn't move. She didn't say a thing. I knew her brown eyes were still inspecting my taller, slightly rounder body. Looking down her slim, athletic body, I saw that her pubic region was shaved bald. Nice, but a little too juvenile looking for me. I felt my body responding at the sight of the small bit of her pussy slit showing itself.

I shrugged off the feeling and turned to look at my husband. "I won't ask what's going on here. The evidence is pretty obvious." His cock, as I spoke was starting to lose the hard on it'd developed while the red head and I inspected each other. I walked to the closet, grabbed my robe and headed for the bathroom. His voice trailed after me.

"Ah, yes, but what is it you have been up to, dear wife?" The coldness in his voice stopped me in my tracks. I looked back over my shoulders and responded, in a matter of fact tone.

"I've been getting fucked. Same as you, dear husband." I closed the bathroom door behind myself and began stripping.

A bang at the door announced the sudden entry of my husband. He grabbed me as I was removing my blouse. Throwing my up against the wall, looking quite angry, he started tearing off my dirty clothing. "Listen, bitch. You really do need to be put into your place. You've had free reign in this house for far too long."

I was scared. I was shocked. And, I was confused. Who was this man? This couldn't be my quiet, loving, gentle touching husband. The husband, whom just a few minutes ago, I was afraid to find me dressed like in this filthy costume. What possessed him to be so bossy now? And to call me a "bitch"?

He left my clothing half hanging from my body. I felt his hand pressing down, forcing me lower to the floor. Oh my God. Was he forcing me to kneel?

My body dropped lower. My stockinged knees hit the cold hard tile. My lower legs and feet were twisted, but you didn't seem to care. You just stared down at me, with those blue eyes blazing. Your hand remained firm on my shoulder, holding me back against the floor, in my awkward kneeling position, your cock only a few inches from my face. "You've always been a slut, haven't you? A whore for every Goddamn man that has a hard-on for a married slut." Your fingers released their hold of my shoulders and quickly entwined themselves in my hair. "Would you like to be my whore? To be fucked by my cock like a common slut? A tramp?" I nodded, not because I enjoyed this odd treatment coming from him, but because I was too scared to say no.

"Then take it, slut. Take my hard-on and put it in your mouth. Show me that you want to be my slut. My whore." I took the hardened cock and slipped it obediently into my mouth. For the next several minutes you fucked my mouth, brutally. I heard you saying stuff -- something about possession. Something about sluts and their place. Something about a woman's proper place. Your words were numb to my ears as you fucked my mouth, slamming hard into it, but not hard enough that you pushed passed my gag reflexes. I was greatly relieved that you spared me that discomfort.

After you ejaculated into my mouth and I had licked you clean, you released your hold on my hair. "Get up." Your voice was soft now, gentle. I could barely look into your face. I felt ashamed. I don't know why, but I did.

"I..." Your voice dropped off as you turned to leave the room.

"You what?" But, you ignored my question. I'd forgotten about your guest up until now. Now, though, I wondered what she was doing while my mouth was being used. I followed you out of the room and back into our bedroom. Quietly, I slipped in behind you as you ordered the woman "into position".

I choked back a tear as I realized this young woman had become your slut, your slave. Still keeping quiet, I moved out of the room and reentered the bathroom. I didn't want to hear anymore. My feelings were pretty mixed up right now and, on top of that, I still smelled like a heap of overripe garbage. I showered thoroughly and briskly, having decided to get the job done. A few tears coursed down my cheeks with the warmer water from the shower head. I ignored them. Finishing up, I toweled off slowly and headed back to the bedroom. This time, the room was empty.