This is a chapter from my novel-in-progress, The Fall of 19-. The novel tells
the story of a couple who both fall under the sexual sway of a handsome, cruel
and masterful man. Both the husband, Jon, and the wife, Sara, are separately,
and secretly, seduced by this man, Alex. The book follows the mutual descent of
the couple into the wonderful world of sexual slavery.
Chapter One: The Party
Jon's version:
One night in late September, when the summer's heat was starting to cool and
everyone was preparing themselves for the long dull winter to come, Sara and I
went to a party. At first it looked like the same old thing, the same old people
having the same old tired conversations. I was yearning for some excitement and
thinking about how repetitive my life was getting. The seasons came and went but
I stayed the same through every death and rebirth and regeneration of the world
around me. There was a void in me, an emptiness aching to be filled.
I was in the middle of some weary group conversation where everybody was
criticizing the government or the wealthy or some other disadvantaged group when
in walked this couple.
All heads turned as if they felt the energy of this man and women in their jaded
nerves. He was absolutely the most handsome man I'd ever seen- well over six
feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscular yet still lean. I could tell all this
because, unlike the rest of us inconspicuous types who hid our bodies under
ballooning clothes, he was dressed in tight leather pants and a beautiful
form-fitting shirt.
His woman was almost as good-looking, tall and blond with a gorgeously sculpted
face and body. She was awesomely beautiful. Her face was a incredibly
feminine, with wonderful deep eyes, pronounced cheek bones and perfect lips. But
at the same time that very pretty woman's face was shaped by a strong jaw line
and a hardness of the features which revealed a trace of masculinity, complete
self-confidence and even hinted at a streak of cruelty.
She had a fantastic body: long and incredibly slim, yet curvaceous and
full-breasted. Encasing her wondrous figure was the tightest black dress I'd
ever seen and she strode into the room on three-inch heels that any other women
there would scoff at wearing, and scoff even more at someone else for wearing.
Yet there was something about her, and him even more, which stopped my petty
thoughts dead in their tracks and stirred my base desires.
What really stood out about them though was not their obvious physical
endowments but rather something that came from within, the life that glowed from
them, a confidence and vitality that I'd thought were extinct. They entered the
room with heads held high, watching instead of feeling watched, a fully erect
walk with just the right amount of swagger. Just the right amount if you're
fabulously good-looking, at least, and these two certainly were.
The hostess, Jane, whispered conspiratorially to our little group, "That's Alex
and Theresa. They're some new friends of Peter's that he's completely enamoured
of but frankly I can't stand them. They have to be the most conceited people
I've ever met".
While the other's nodded in silent approval of Jane's condemnation and even
added a few words of prejudged condemnation, I couldn't help but withhold my
opinion until further investigation, my eyes transfixed by the presence of these
two unusual people. I noticed too that Sara was watching them intently and not
joining in the feeding-frenzy of the meek.
"You and he are in the same business, Jon", Jane said to me. "He publishes The
Power Journal". Everyone laughed at the name of the publication, for among we
left-leaners that publication was a synonym for rampant capitalism, fascists,
the enemy. I was an editor at the city's left-wing weekly, a humble little
thing that tried to hold up the crumbling ideals of socialism, the environment
and such. I smiled weakly to the group as they stared at me, waiting for some
sort of reply, and said lamely, "Well, isn't that interesting".
The time passed by and I was getting inebriated along with everyone else. I
hadn't spoken yet to either member of the couple; I was forgetting them and
lapsing into the party version of automatic pilot, laughing at the most banal
bon-mots, listening to old friends say the same old things, and saying the same
old things myself. At one point I slipped into my mode of false arrogance and
was giving my well-rehearsed rant to a group of people about the lack of
government support for smaller publications like mine when I heard a voice shock
me out of my rote speech.
"Well maybe if you had enough readers for your little rag you wouldn't need any
help. Why should the taxpayers pay you and your socialist friends to put out
something they don't read and probably wouldn't like if they did?" I turned
around to see him standing there, staring down at me from a few feet away. He
was so impressively commanding and I was so struck by his presence and his stare
that I couldn't think. I merely stared up into his dark eyes, my mouth open,
silenced by his powerful glare.
He launched into me again. It was a brilliant rhetorical speech that came
straight out of the right wing, loaded with sarcasm and dubious logic, but so
strong was his delivery and his presence that I could only stammer vague
replies. I wasn't used to being argued with in my circle of the converted, and
the usual pat answers were spinning around in my head irretrievably. "Your
little weak rag has no force, no strength, it's an empty shell!", he hissed, the
words stinging me to my soul. "You're lost in the misguided intentions of
social responsibility and fairness-to-everybody and now your whole absurd
philosophy is blowing up in your face. People know now that they have to take
care of themselves, find their own power and sink or swim". He was pointing at
me rudely and I blushed with embarrassment at my inadequacy in the face of his
own intimidating presence. Just as I was beginning to falter into another
non-reply he looked into my face, as if it was all a joke to him, laughed and
smiled wickedly, "Don't worry, Jon, you've got a pretty face, you'll get by,
when all the other wimpy socialists are gone". Then, incredibly, he lightly
slapped my ass and walked away.
I stood there, rooted in my spot by humiliation and shock. For a moment no one
said anything, my stupid little clique stunned and stupefied by what had
happened. Then someone whispered, "What an asshole!". I looked at Sara. She just
stared at me. I knew she had been let down by me, looking for her man to do
something manly, to fight. I knew she was thinking of how utterly defeated I had
been. The one word he said rang over and over in my ears "weak weak weak" and I
thought of how right the bastard was. Sara muttered "excuse me" and left the
group. Some idiotic geek said, "You showed him, Jon", but I just told him to
shut up and crawled off to the washroom in shame.
I stared at myself in the mirror and watched my spirit fall ever lower. I
thought of him, the kind of man that he was, the kind of man that I was. The
difference seemed like a huge chasm; one I knew I could never leap across. In
fact Alex and I were more like opposites- he was power and I was weakness- and I
felt the attraction that opposites often feel for the other type. He was someone
I could never be no matter how much I willed it and, deep down where things like
this can't be admitted, even to oneself, I longed perhaps even more to be with
him than to be like him.
I was staring at myself in the mirror but I was still far from self-recognition.
I told my reflected self that I had learned a lesson from Alex. I told myself
that I should act more confidently and confidence would follow. I was a fool.
I thought I'd learned from Alex to find my own power but what he really gave me
was a desire to feel his. Suddenly my hatred for him waned, although the reason
why was lost to me as I tried to keep a grip on my waning self-esteem. I put
my head back together, subsumed my humiliation with stupid appeasements about
lessons learned and headed back out to the party.
The first thing I saw was Sara standing with Alex and his woman, Theresa,
laughing at whatever he was saying and looking intently into his eyes. I stood
there watching entranced, as my shame came flooding back. I could hardly believe
that she would do this. I thought of Sam and the damage that he had done to us,
or specifically, me. But this was beyond that. I had been ridiculed by this
bastard and here she was happily engaged in conversation with him, looking
enthralled by his charm.
I stalked off to the kitchen to grab a very strong drink. I thought about the
situation, but not very well. I decided not to show anyone any sense of shame. I
decided to carry on as if there was no problem with him. I would even compete
with her for his interest if that's what it took.
I walked straight over to the three of them and stood there rather stupidly,
full of plans and bereft of action, merely listening to Alex as he wove stories
that held the two women entranced. They didn't even acknowledge my arrival. Sara
stood there before him, drink in hand, staring up into his eyes. Soon others
arrived to listen to some particularly interesting tale of his adventures abroad
and I found myself being pushed further and further back until I was on the
periphery of the group. I went off in dejection to join my safe friends in the
corner.
As I tried to talk to them I kept my eyes on Alex's group and specifically Sara,
who spoke only to him and listened only to him, unable to take her eyes away
from his.
Eventually they all disbanded and I spent a little while trying to figure out
how to approach him. I felt a yearning for him that I mistook for a desire to be
respected or something equally foolish. I knew I couldn't take him on in an
argument again so I waited for an opportunity to get him alone, to say
something, anything that would earn his esteem. Soon, to my relief, Sara stopped
standing beside him and came over to me. As we stood together, uncomfortably,
our mutual silence spoke volumes. Soon enough she wandered off with some lame
excuse about needing another drink.
Some time later I noticed Alex in the hallway, a pretty girl having recently
left him to freshen their drinks. I excused myself hurriedly from my group and
went over to him before anyone else spotted the chance.
"Alex, I'd like to talk to you alone for a bit", I said, in as friendly yet
forceful a tone as I could muster in the face of his intimidating stare. "Yes I
thought you would", he replied curiously, "Why don't we step outside and get
some air?".
I grew excited inside at the thought of his suggestion. I smiled with the
realization that he found me interesting enough to want to have a very private
conversation with me. So, I thought to myself, he really does respect me, he
really does want to talk to me, to find out more about me. My foolishness knew
no bounds.
We stepped out into the cool night air. He said he hoped I didn't take offense
at anything he said, that he loved a good argument. I wondered how he thought I
couldn't take offense at such offensiveness but I lied that I hadn't. He
chuckled at my words mysteriously.
He led me into the darkest part of the backyard, behind some bushes where only
the moonlight shone down and the noise of the party was a dim background.
He turned to me. I started to speak but as I looked up to his eyes I saw they
were glowing with a curious intensity that showed both menace and some kind of
want. He grabbed me about the waist and drew me to him, his face turned down to
me, and he pressed his lips against mine.
My heart pounded in shock that gave way surprisingly quickly to arousal. I knew
then that I had wanted this all night, all the more so since he humiliated me,
and more again when I saw him captivate my wife. I opened my panting mouth up to
accept his invading tongue. Our lips were pressed tightly together and our
tongues rolled over each other inside of my welcoming mouth. I reached around
and held on tightly to his broad strong back as our kissing became more
passionate, tongues swirling together between our melded lips. Then brazenly I
let my hands fall, caressing his hard ass through the black leather and moaning
at the feel of it, so hard and round yet buttery-smooth in its leather encasing.
I cried out, somewhat high-pitched, womanly, as he held me tight, our passionate
wet-kisses taking me higher and higher.
Suddenly he dropped me to my knees, so quickly that I don't know how but I found
myself with panting lips pressed wetly against the big hard cock that stretched
the leather at the front of his torso. "What are you doing?" I cried out, my
words muffled by the front of his pants where he held me tight, one hand on the
back of my head, the other holding my shoulders down.
"Stop it", I cried though my cry was not so loud as to be heard by anyone else,
so ashamed I was, and keenly aware of it, by my position.
I couldn't move from under him though I struggled hard, my legs weak beneath me
and my hands pushing pathetically against his rock-hard thighs. He grabbed the
back of my hair and pulled me into his groin. The leather smell went deep into
my lungs. I was paralyzed by the pain of his hair-pulling and even though he
released me with his other hand I couldn't move and only knelt there, heart
pounding, as he pulled my head back just far enough that he could undo the
zipper on his pants.
"No!", I cried my voice a soft pathetic whimper as I realized with horror what
he was about to do. "Don't! No!", I half begged, half ordered him but he only
hissed, "Shut up!", as he fumbled in his pants for his dick. Suddenly there it
was, sprung out in the cold harsh glow of the moonlight, looming over my eyes.
It was the most magnificent cock I had ever seen, long, thick and beautifully
sculpted. He yanked my hair back and I cried out, louder this time, as the pain
and fear overwhelmed me. Yet again I held my voice in check. I wanted to alert
anyone less than he I'm sure. He made me look at his gorgeous tool as it pulsed
there before me, filling my wide-open eyes. He slid it across my panting lips
and smacked it lightly against my hot cheeks as he held me, my face turned up to
him, one hand deep in my long hair, yanking hard.
I felt the stirring inside and I knew that I wanted it though my cries and
struggling continued. He knew too, knew it all along, from the moment he saw the
look on my face of submissive fear when he first interrupted me back in the
house.
Sensing victory, he let my head fall until my mouth was even with his cock and,
to my deep shame, my lips parted wide for the thick head and he slid it through
them. I swooned at the feel of the huge cock filling up my mouth, the
hard-yet-soft skin of it stretching my wet lips wide as it entered and slid
along my tongue. At the end of each stroke I breathed in deeply the warm smell
of man and leather that wafted from his crotch.
My hands stopped pushing weakly against his thighs and slid around to the back
where his leather pants had slipped down and I lightly caressed the perfect
roundness of his ass. His cock slid in and out of my lips and I began to moan
softly, my girlish sounds muffled by the cock that stuffed my mouth. I felt my
wet lips suck hungrily on his shaft and my tongue swirl around it. In my pants
I could feel my own cock, swollen and hard, and I was filled with humiliation
and desire.
Then he grabbed me by the hair again, his two hands on either side of my head,
and shoved his big cock all the way into my throat. I gagged as it pushed past
the back of my mouth but he only held me tight and withdrew to pounce in again
and again until my mouth adjusted and I breathed hard through my nose in panic
and arousal, the manly smell of his leather and cock sweat blew down into my
shame-wracked soul.
He raped my mouth. In and out he fucked me with his glorious cock. Pulling out
until the head stretched my lips wider still, only to plunge back in again, all
the way, until my lips and nose were pressed hard into the hair around the base
of his shaft, and his big head pulsed somewhere deep in my throat.
Then he came. With one final yank of my poor hair and thrust of his hard torso,
he pushed into me deeper than ever and I felt his cock bulge with the oncoming
sperm and then release, jerking in my throat and filling it with hot come. He
held me there for a moment and then pulled his cock back a bit and fucked my
mouth, salty-sweet sperm shooting inside me. I couldn't believe how much there
was. I had to drink it down to keep from gagging. Still coming, he pulled out of
my mouth and, holding my face still with his one hand wrapped in my hair, he
jerked his big cock with the other, shooting glob after glob of come into my
panting mouth, lips drooling come that was already inside, and splattering my
cheeks.
Finally it was all over. He shoved his still-hard cock back in to my mouth. I
swallowed and swallowed all the come that was inside me and sucked the rest off
his prick. I was delirious with arousal and shock as he wiped the come off my
cheeks with his fingers and then put them to my lips to be licked clean.
He released me and I fell to the ground in a daze. I looked up at him with teary
eyes. He only glared down at me with a malicious smile. To my increasing shock
and shame he put the bottom of his shoe to my crotch and pressed it against the
hard cock that bulged there, insatiated. "You bastard", I whispered at him
spiritlessly. "You little slut bitch", he said back to me from above,
half-hissing, half-laughing, as if I didn't warrant the respect of a serious
insult. Then he took the sole of his shoe and slid it across my cum-wet cheek,
in a mock caress, the roughness of the dirt and pebbles on it scraping me
painfully. Too weak to move I lay there as he did it again and again, whispering
sarcastically, "Poor confused baby". And then he was gone.
In a few minutes I regained enough of my senses to realize I had to get up and
get going, do something. I stood up, my legs barely holding me. I stumbled
toward the backdoor of the house, trying to fix myself. Inside I strode for the
washroom, head down, noticing too late as I rounded a corner that I was heading
straight for Alex and Sara, who were once again together, only this time they
were alone. "Honey what happened to your face?", Sara asked, more with dismay
than concern. "I slipped and fell on the walkway. I'm okay", I muttered as I
slipped past them. "You ought to watch how much you're drinking there, Jon", I
heard him say to my back and I winced inside, hurrying into the washroom where I
put my face under the tap and washed my mouth out as best as I could, although
the taste of his come seemed indelible, an ubiquitous reminder of my shame.
Once outside the bathroom I found Sara with our coats. "Come on", she said,
"It's time to get you home", the disdain dripped from her words and in my
mortified state I drank it down. I meekly went off to the car with her but
before we were out the front door I heard him call from the top of the stairs
"Goodnight. A pleasure meeting you and I hope we can do it again some time". The
words shook me to the marrow. Head down, I silently slipped out the door. I
found myself alone for a moment outside. Sara hadn't come out with me. I stood
there waiting until finally she emerged, calling goodnight, and we walked down
to the car.
"I can't believe you", she seethed, "First you can't talk to the guy, then you
hang around him. You get so drunk from the embarrassment of it that you fall
down on your face and then you rudely walk out the door when he's saying
goodnight. God I'm ashamed of you sometimes". The words cut like razors but I
was mute to reply. Nothing she had mentioned approached the real shame of it all
and I almost laughed sickly inside at the thought of what she would say if she'd
known a tenth of the truth of what had gone on in the dark of that night, in the
dark of my soul.
That night after Sara had fallen asleep I lay awake with an arousal that no
amount of condemnation or distraction could abate. I lay there and stroked
myself off to thoughts of him, my hand obeying a desire that my sternly
condemning conscious couldn't reach. I savoured the lingering taste of him in my
mouth and as I came I whispered his name: "Alex!".
Sara's version:
That night we went to a party. It was the same old crowd. Pretty boring. Jon and
I talked about it on the way over. We didn't really want to go but I guess
inertia prevailed.
Some time after we were there this couple came in. All heads turned as they
walked in to the room. The man, Alex, was gorgeous beyond description. I didn't
think that anyone could top Sam but this guy was it. He was very tall and his
body was perfection. I couldn't take my eyes off of him for the first several
minutes he was there. I felt like Jon was watching me watch him and I guess his
jealousy was the first thing that pissed me off about him that night. The
underlying bitterness of being stuck with such an unsexy guy came out when I
thought of how he even prevented me from checking somebody else out. What harm
was there in a little visual treat, even if I did imagine myself on my knees
sucking this beautiful man's cock?
Anyway, Alex was with this woman who was really stunning, beautiful buxom body
and full of curves. The really striking thing about the two of them though was
the way that they carried themselves with complete confidence. I found myself
wishing that Jon and I could have a little more of that even as our hostess was
telling us how arrogant they were. I couldn't care less. Maybe some people
deserve to be conceited, I thought.
As the evening grew on I stopped checking Alex out quite so much and at one
point I found myself in a little group as Jon was giving his usual spiel about
how mean the government was to his stupid ragazine. Alex stepped up to the group
and listened for a second and then he laid in on Jon. He was such a commanding
presence and Jon, who wasn't used to arguing since he surrounded himself with
sycophants, was totally taken aback. All he could do as Alex went on about
left-wing wimps was stutter and stammer. It was humiliating for him and I felt
a little sympathy but the combination of the power and looks of this new man and
Jon's pathetic impotence left me feeling unsympathetic. Alex said something in
the end about how Jon was "pretty" and then, to everyone's amazement, he even
patted Jon's ass. It was really devastating and Alex simply walked away
having demolished my poor boy.
Since Jon was surrounded by his equally ineffectual friends who were offering
sympathy and lies I decided he didn't need my aid and I went off in search of
this amazing man. Besides, at the moment, I was frankly ashamed of his weakness
and I just had to get away from him.
I grabbed a drink and caught up to Alex as he was chatting with his girlfriend,
whose name was Theresa. She and I seemed to take an instant dislike to each
other but it didn't dissuade me from being with them. If she doesn't like it, I
thought, then she can bloody well leave us alone, the sooner the better. I
wanted to flirt with this man and nobody was going to stop me.
He charmed me instantly by telling me how beautiful I was, even asking Theresa
to agree, which she hesitantly did. I was glad I had taken the time to fix
myself up that night and glad for the workouts and diet that I had recently been
doing. I felt a glow that I hadn't felt since Sam. I felt my own
attractiveness mirrored in the eyes of this gorgeous guy and I knew I looked
great that night, if a little conservative next to these two in their tight
outfits. Alex wore black leather pants that night and I ached, as I stared into
his eyes and tried to listen to him, to get down on my knees in front of him and
lick his leathers from top to bottom. I really didn't think anything would come
of it, he had a beautiful girlfriend after all, and I was trying, after the
fiasco of Sam, to focus on my relationship with Jon, however moribund it might
be.
Alex continued to flirt with me while Theresa grew colder. He didn't know that I
was the wife of the man he'd just humiliated and I didn't want to tell him so.
I felt guilty about talking to him after what he'd done to Jon but I guess I was
feeling a little rebellious toward the matrimonial jail that night. When Jon
walked by I avoided his stare but just knowing how he felt made me feel like
even more of a bad girl, and I liked the feeling. If he didn't like it maybe he
should try to be a little more like this guy, I thought. Even the slightest
resemblance would be welcome. But no, even though he'd just been thoroughly
humiliated by Alex and then seen me talking and flirting with him, he could only
go off sulking to his friends. And then when he did come by some time later he
didn't say anything, only stood by, still sulking I imagine, and listened to his
destroyer charm a whole crowd of people. Finally, Jon went away again,
dog-faced, to rejoin his boring cronies.
As Alex became more popular, especially with the women of the party, I found
myself losing my status and I thought, what the fuck, as if he's going to be
interested in me anyway, so I went off to join the loser's club in the corner,
Jon and his friends, though by that time the chill between us was thick as ice
and I decided I didn't have the energy or inclination to warm it up.
But I noticed after a while that Jon was staring at Alex off and on through the
night. It seemed like he was as fascinated by him as I was, perhaps because of
what he saw me feeling about him. Anyway it looked as though Jon was trying to
think of a way to get him back, looking for the right time to make an attack.
He hovered in Alex's vicinity a couple of times but, being Jon, he never found
that right time I guess, never summoned the guts to confront someone who was
quite clearly smarter, braver, sexier... well, the list in my mind went on and
on.
So the night got late and, as I saw Alex alone, I went up and talked to him. He
seemed happy to see me. He had found out that I was Jon's wife (he'd been
asking about me! I thought to myself) and hoped that I didn't mind if I'd hurt
Jon's feelings. When I laughed and said no he developed a mysterious knowing
smile that made me shiver. He produced a card and told me to give him a call at
work some day and that perhaps we could get together. I was taken aback. I
wanted to say no but something in me was stronger and I pulled the proffered
card from his fingers with the best smile I could summon in my nervousness and
said, "Thanks. Maybe I will".
Just then Jon appeared with his usual bad timing. His face was all scraped and
kind of wet. He was trying to hurry past us but was unsteady on his feet. He
had gotten himself completely drunk in the aftermath of his humiliation at the
tongue of Alex and his subsequent attempts to get up the nerve that wasn't in
him and he'd fallen down outside. This was the last straw. I muttered an
embarrassed goodnight to Alex as Jon locked himself in the washroom and I
grabbed our coats.
Hustling Jon out the door, I heard Alex bade us goodnight, but Jon only ducked
his head and scurried out the door. I thought, he was not only a weakling but
rude as well. I let the door close behind him and watched him stumble to the
car. I walked up to where Alex stood, smiling knowingly in that way that he did
so well. "I have to apologize for him", I said, "I think he's a little
intimidated by you". "That's okay", Alex said, soothing and sexy, "He's had a
long night". I took a quick look around for the sign of nosy friends and then I
whispered, "I think I will call you". He walked me down to the bottom off the
stairs and then he caressed my cheek, drawing his hand up around the back of my
head where he took my long blond hair lightly in his fist and drew my face
toward his and kissed me on the lips. After a moment's shock I kissed him back,
the feeling of it overwhelming me. It had been so long since I felt sexual
arousal and now here was this fantastic man kissing me, even though his
girlfriend might have come around the corner and discovered us at any moment.
But we were lost in the abandonment of the moment. If Jon saw us and dumped me
on the spot I wouldn't have cared less. All I wanted was this man.
Then we were heard voices and came apart. I had to work hard to get my head
back into the real world. I whispered," Goodnight", and went out the door. In
my bitterness I harangued poor Jon, who seemed really drunk and depressed. The
way he just took it made me do it all the more as he sat there in silence and I
drove home.
I lay awake for the longest time in bed, tossing and turning. I didn't know
what to do. I told myself that Jon was a really good guy and to just drop the
whole thing but I couldn't get Alex off my mind. My thoughts grew inexorably to
fantasies of him and I drew my hand down to my pussy. I was shocked at the
wetness that I felt there. I imagined myself on a bed in Alex's mansion ( Jane
told me at the party of his big beautiful home) , decked out in the finest
lingerie that he had bought me, lying across his stomach, my face in his lap,
sucking his cock between sips of the finest cognac. It was an absurd fantasy,
born of a sense of repression at the hands of our simple laid-back lives, a way
of living that, that night, seemed to be a vicious terror that was killing me.
But I didn't think about that. What I thought about was his cock inside me on a
gigantic bed, perhaps even tying my wrists with a satin cord (oh I was feeling
bad ) and I came quickly, stifling the cries of ecstasy (Jon, too, was restless)
into the pillow whereupon I began to cry silent tears of shame.
