Chapter 3

As the wife of an initiate of The Order, Martina learned that there were times when she was expected to attend particular social functions at the clubhouse. She already knew that there were many events where wives were not welcome, or at least, where she was not yet welcome.

She looked forward to the first of the events with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

Her husband had changed so much since his initiation ritual that she no longer felt that she knew him anymore, and was becoming increasingly doubtful of her love. At the same time, this would be a public event, with other men that he admired and wanted to impress. Surely he would be on his best behavior?

Drew seemed quite intensely interested in his young wife's first opportunity to attend a function at his society's secret lodge. And the initial signs were good that his attitude might improve in the presence of The Order. For three weeks before the big date, he never raised a hand to her, nor did he try to persuade her to have sex with other men, as he had increasingly done in the prior months.

For a week beforehand he went shopping with her every night. She felt like they were a normal couple again. He normally required her to do on her own shopping, and he reserved the right to make her return anything he didn't like. She got into the habit of leaving all the tags in place until she had modeled any new dresses.

This week was different though. On the first night they started with a casual dinner at a popular restaurant, and then he took her shopping for dresses. At first she thought they might browse the racks together, but he became impatient with her frequent disapproval of his preferred selections, so he finally decided that she should just go to the dressing room, undress and wait for him to bring options.

Drew's revised process was to bring her a dress he liked, peek into the partially opened fitting room door while she put it on, and then ask her to step out so that he could see it. If he thought it had potential he would ask her to walk around the store so that he could watch her perform a set of poses. The pose he appeared most interested in was a deep, formal curtsey.

In the first dress he thought he might like, he had Martina repeatedly practice the curtsey, deepening the bow until her upper body was almost parallel to the floor, flaring the skirt wide and crossing her ankle behind her until it seemed she would topple, until it finally met his expectations. Once it did, he immediately rejected the dress as unsuitable, making her take it off so he could return it to the clerk and then search for another choice. This sequence was repeated several times in their first choice of stores.

This left Martina standing in only her lacey bra and thong panties (which Drew had specially selected for her earlier in the day) for long periods of time. And her husband insisted that the door or curtain be left partly open, so that he could "easily check on her and make sure that she was okay."

At the first boutique they visited, this wasn't too embarrassing, since there were no men present and the fitting rooms were fairly secluded in a back corner. Drew, however, quickly determined that he didn't like anything at this location.

The next store that they visited sold both men's formalwear and ladies' fashions. There were quite a few men present, both customers and clerks, and to make matters worse, Drew insisted that his wife try on her clothing in the men's fitting area, near the middle of the main shop floor, "because the light was better there."

As soon as she entered the fitting room, he told her to strip and wait for him to find a dress. Of course he waited, and watched intently with the door half open as she slipped out of the simple, white cotton dress she had worn to the store. She stood there in her underwear and shoes, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to maintain some modesty and body heat in the crisply air conditioned setting.

"Don't. You know better than that." His eyes went to her arms and quickly she put them down at her sides. She even managed a smile that she hoped wasn't too inauthentic.

"Shoes, too." He had let her wear her shoes at the last store. As she slipped them off she trembled slightly. Being barefoot on the hardwood floor of the dressing room made her feel both colder and more exposed. He smiled in approval and walked away, leaving the door half open as he crossed to the back of the store where the ladies' fashions were displayed.

The fitting room had large mirrors on three sides, and a louvered door from her forehead to her knees. She knew she couldn't even 'accidentally' nudge the door closed without risking his anger, so she stood there fully visible from every angle to anyone who should walk through the men's suits section.

It didn't take long before she attracted her first voyeur, a young man who looked like he was barely out of high school. He had been casually browsing the suitcoats looking for something that fit his long, tall frame, when he glanced up and saw her in the fitting room in all her reflected glory. He avoided eye contact for fear that if she caught him looking she would close the door. But she knew he was staring at her, and knew there was nothing she could do about it.

It wasn't long before there was a fat, middle-aged man who had joined the tall youth pretending to browse a rack of coats that wouldn't have fit either of them, but really drinking in the sight of Martina's goosepimpled bare ass in the skimpy thong panties and trying to catch a glimpse of her erect nipples, barely covered by the half-cup strapless bra.

One of the clerks came to ask the gentlemen if they needed any assistance. They both blushed and averred that they were "just looking" but stayed rooted to the spot.

"Oh, my," the clerk muttered disapprovingly as he made his way to Martina's fitting room, intent on closing the door and preserving the woman's modesty.

As he reached out to shut it she pleaded with him, "don't, please."

"Miss, I have no idea what you are up to but we have policies. This door is to remain closed while you are changing." She noticed his eyes were locked on hers, and not even for a moment did they stray across her nearly nude body.

"Please?" she asked meekly. He started to close the door anyway.

"No need for that," Drew interrupted, blocking the door open. "Look dear, I found something for you to try." Her husband held up a black organza dress. As he passed it to her she noticed the tag had four digits after the dollar sign. She held the crisp, backless dress it up to her chest as though testing the size, obscuring for a moment the onlookers' frontal view but doing nothing to hide the reflected view of her exposed bum.

"Very good, now we can just close this as she tries that on ... giver your wife some privacy." The clerk tried to pull the door shut, but Drew still held it open.

"No need..." Drew glanced at the clerk's nametag, "no need, George. She's European."

"Yes, sir, but this store isn't in Europe, it's in America and we have policies."

Drew easily overpowered the slightly built older man and pushed the door even farther open, loosing the handle from his grasp and making it impossible for him to reach it again without stepping through Martina.

Drew detected the clerk's lisping pronunciation and went on the attack. He leaned over and whispered menacingly, "Are you a fag, George? You don't like to look at beautiful women's bodies?"

"That has nothing to do with this, sir!" Drew had struck a nerve, and the clerk was getting visibly and audibly angry. "You are disturbing the other customers, and violating our policy."

Her husband looked around as Martina stood mortified, afraid to move or respond in any way. She had enjoyed the weeks of respite from Drew's physical abuse and wanted to avoid any conditions that might draw his wrath on her.

"It doesn't seem like anyone but you is disturbed by this, Georgie." Drew pointed to the two voyeurs. "Are you offended by the sight of my wife in her underwear?" Both men practically fell over themselves to deny being affronted in any way. "See, Georgie Porgie? It's just you and your faggy policies. You're the one making a scene."

"Sir, I must insist. Either you close this door or I shall have to ask you to leave and call the authorities if you refuse."

Drew raised his clenched fist and both his wife and the clerk flinched as they though he was going to strike. "Do you see this ring?" Her husband's whisper was more like a growl, and Martina knew he was over his limit. Violence typically ensued. The clerk nodded affirmatively.

"Have you seen another like it?" The clerk nodded again. "Mr. Petrie has one like it. Why don't you go call the owner and ask him if your faggy policy applies to Mr. and Mrs. Stern? I am going to leave this door open and allow my wife to try on that dress without further disturbance while you check."

The clerk hustled off, and with the door now wide open, Drew instructed his wife to try on the expensive dress. He made sure to step back to admire her as she did so, but also to give the two voyeurs a better view.

She had just finished adjusting the stiff fabric of the bodice to cover the cups of her bra, and smoothed the crinkly pleats of the skirt to halfway down her shapely thighs, when the clerk returned looking as though he had seen a ghost.

"I apologize most humbly, Mr. and Mrs. Stern." George's voice trembled. "Please allow me to assist you in any way possible while you continue to shop here with us today."

"That's better," Drew grinned in self-satisfaction. His normally prideful stature became even more insufferably puffed-up. "There's not much I want you to do for me, 'cept maybe you can suck my balls while I watch my wife get dressed. How about it, Georgie?"

The clerk wrestled with his response, not wanting to show his revulsion but at the same time not wanting to lose his job.

Drew guffawed at the man's obvious discomfort. "No, seriously, George ... just get lost and leave us alone, and make sure we aren't bothered until I ask for your help, which I won't ever ask for, so just stay away."

As the clerk disappeared Drew turned his attention back to his wife, who looked amazingly beautiful in the designer dress. For the briefest moment she thought she saw a tenderness in his eyes, something that had gone missing even before the initiation. And then it was gone and the lecherous, hungry gaze returned.

"I like this one, a lot..." He rumbled as he looked her up and down. "Step out, over there, on the platform." He pointed to a spot over by the two gawking men, a short carpeted step where men would stand between in a semicircle of tall mirrors while their suits were fitted.

Drew invited the others to join him as she mounted the platform and faced the center mirror, and he stood directly behind her. Even with the advantage of the step he was still a head taller than his wife. The two other men moved slowly from behind the cover that the rack of coats provided. They had to repositioning their erections as they took positions on either of the young wife.

Martina felt like she was on display and that was exactly how he wanted her to feel. "I'd like to get your opinions, gentleman. My wife and I are going to a ... formal engagement ... this weekend and I want to present her in the best light possible." He was talking to the strangers but looking into the reflection of her eyes.

She maintained her practiced look of passive acceptance as she retreated into the hiding place she had built in her mind. It wasn't enough to please him, but she wasn't willing to do the things it would take to truly please him. At least it didn't infuriate him as it did when she resisted or dissolved into tears. It was the best she could manage. She braced herself for the reality of the man her husband had become, and bitterly let go of the wasted dream of normalcy she clung to earlier that night.