The Key

I agree absolutely. thanks for the new chapter. I love it
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Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

Absolutely amazing work Don. Cuckolding is as much cerebral as it is physical and you nail that aspect perfectly.
As always, thank you for your work ❤️🙏🏼 x

Thanks guys - I'm pleased you're enjoying it. Here's Chapter 28, a Juliet feast.





Chapter 28


Juliet unlatched the clasps that held the platform in place, then put a hand against my chest and pushed. The tubular scaffold swiveled backward until I was lying horizontally before her. She wheeled the entire rack to the center of my office, then began to pace around it slowly in circles.

"Hmmm...let's have a look at you, shall we?" she said, trailing a finger over my face, chest, and legs as she walked. "Now I have a better understanding of Amanda's choices lately. You aren't a man most women fantasize about, are you? But I'm not 'most' women. I've so wanted to play again after our last 'date'. At least it will look like a date if and when Amanda watches the video. But we won't worry about that now that you've promised to play like a good boy, well we?"

"I told you I will, Juliet; just please don't show her what we did. She may never forgive me. You know that."

Juliet stopped beside me and took my dick in her hand. "Let's start with this," she said, smiling, as she milked my growing erection. "And, we can't neglect this." Her remaining hand cupped my balls, fingering them lightly. "Mmmm, you like this part, don't you?" she asked. "Just look how you're leaking. I wonder how it feels? Living in chastity for so many months? So full of cum you're ready to burst, or at least ready to do whatever it takes to finally have a few of your little spurts?"

I tried my best not to listen, but I was helpless to prevent my dick from responding to her expert manipulation. She began to laugh when my hips rose up off the support, instinctively begging for more.

"Ahhh, at last - a sign you're eager to play, Zero. Now the fun begins..."

She went to the large canvas bag she had brought with her, opened it, and retrieved a small black case. She placed it nearby on my desk, raised the cover, withdrew two long cables, and connected them to a rectangular box with small dials on its face.

"Oh Zero, don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I ruin my favorite new toy?"

I struggled to free myself as she wrapped a narrow Velcro strap around the root of my dick and balls. She snugged it just tightly enough to cause my erection to expand and throb. I stared at my dick as it lay engorged on my belly, pulsing and raging to be touched. It hadn't been so hard and urgent for so many months. It seemed bigger than it had ever been.

Next, she began to fit a small, helmet-like, open metal cage over the head of my dick, held in place by elastic that grasped me just behind the flared glans of the engorged head. I winced as she inserted the narrow, three-inch-long flexible tubing mounted through the center of the cage, feeding it slowly up inside me before securing it. An immense condom was fastened to the protruding end of the tube and lay ominously like a limp, deflated balloon on my belly. I had never seen a condom that huge; it made me think of Vicente, and whether it was made for monster cocks like his. When she connected the cables to both the cock band and the cage, I began to beg.

"Please, Juliet! Don't do this! You promised! I did what you wanted - said what you wanted. What more do you need from me? I'll do anything you want; you know that!"

She stood back, examining her work and smiling with satisfaction. "You're such a big baby, Zero. I said I wouldn't harm you. But I suppose I do owe you an explanation before we start. At settings between 'one' and 'five', my clever machine will merely get that little thing hard. I always have to experiment a bit on a man to find which number is just right - to get you not just hard, but throbbing. I increased it to 'ten' once - just an accidental slip of my finger while adjusting it. A shame, really, - well, for him anyway. The instructions warn that higher settings may cause permanent damage, like burning out the nerves that get a man hard, or even destroying his ability to cum at all. But with nothing to lose, you wouldn't be much fun to me at all, so I promise to be more careful this time.

"Still, I have considered asking Amanda if she'd be agreeable to 'fixing' you someday, permanently. You've been so useless to her for years. She might be relieved to be done with your constant whining about putting your pathetic thing inside her again. She and I could do it together. She could watch me hang you up like this, we could use my machine to get you hard and play with you one last time, and then she could do the honors with a simple turn of the dial. We could watch what little manhood you have jump and jerk until you're not much more than a eunuch. Maybe Amanda and I would fuck afterward as a kind of celebration, woman to woman, right here on your desk as you hang there trying to recover.

"Of course, I'd let you could keep your balls, although I doubt they'd still function as they should. But, there's a chance Amanda might want to display them in a jar beside her bed as a constant reminder that she's finally taken them from you completely. I can imagine it would be very satisfying for her to wake up every day, open her eyes, and see them there beside her, preserved like tiny trophies."

The picture Juliet had created in my head made me shiver. I couldn't believe Amanda would ever be her partner in it, and yet I imagined the relieved expression on Amanda's face as she slowly nudged the dial to its maximum setting while Juliet stroked her face lovingly with her long, agile fingers. I remembered the video of them together, how Amanda's initial resistance became a rabid desire to please her after only the slightest encouragement. They had been more than just 'partners' then. Had Juliet managed to pry her way into the core of Amanda's past sexual neglect, igniting unfulfilled cravings in ways Amanda had never even remotely considered?

Juliet began to rotate the platform slowly, inverting me as I hung from my ankles and wrists. I had never felt so exposed and helpless, and was overwhelmed with growing panic about what she had planned. I began to shake the entire apparatus as she separated the metal arms that held my ankles, spreading my legs another three feet apart.

"Such a nervous little boy," she responded. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me, and that would be a dangerous decision. Then I might have to correct your attitude in such unpleasant ways."

Approaching closer, she circled the base of my sac with her thumb and fingers, bunching my balls upward. She began to trace light circles over them with her remaining hand, pausing and prodding the sensitive flesh now and then with the sharp points of her long nails. The prickling sensations were brief and random, but never enough to cause serious pain or damage. It was meant to be a warning, that my very manhood was in her hands, and could be used as a painful tool of persuasion.

"It always excites me, holding them like this," she went on. "Such delicate little eggie things, so exposed and vulnerable, and yet they're everything a man is made of. All that pride and bluster, that male ego, always on parade. It amuses me that I could take all of it away with one quick clench of my fist, crushing these fragile eggs into pulp.

"But this isn't the day to do that, Zero. Today, we prepare for Amanda's return. Can you even imagine how much vigorous, potent sperm she's taken inside her while she's been with Vicente? I imagine she might well be carrying his baby by now. You think about it too, don't you? Worried night and day that she might be pregnant with the baby she could never have with you? How utterly sad for you. The final straw that would take her away from you and make her his forever - a m o t h e r to his c h i l d. But you'll still be my toy, Zero - as long as I want you."

"You can't be sure of that, Juliet!" I cried. "How could you know - that she's pregnant? I won't believe it - I won't!"

"There are many things I know that you don't, Zero. But imagine the waiting when she returns, watching for the first hint of her swollen belly, your nerves wracked with the looming possibility that he's impregnated your sweet wife. I mean, it's so likely after he's drenched her womb with so much cum. But we'll be prepared either way, Zero."

Juliet activated the nearby box with a flick of her finger, and a pulsing current had my dick dancing in brief, rising spasms. I watched a steady stream of my precum flow through the tube of the cock-helmet, into the huge, empty condom that hung from the end of my dick, swaying slightly as it began to fill. Just as I began to recognize the initial urges of my orgasm, the box switched off as I gasped and trembled on the rack.

"As weak and pathetic as your little sperm are, we don't want to take a chance that they might somehow find their way to one of Amanda's impatient little eggs, do we? You have to accept that the baby she might be carrying after she returns can only be Vicente's, not yours. To avoid the risk of contaminating her for a while, you'll give up every last sperm to me, every day from now on. Now, let's continue..."

The surging current began again, f o r c i n g my dick to rise and fall at a more rapid pace. The precum streamed from me endlessly as though I had stored gallons of it while caged. It wasn't painful, nor was it pleasurable. It just was; a convulsing, throbbing reaction to Juliet's black box. When I felt my orgasm approach again, the box stopped as though it could predict my cumming seconds in advance. Again and again, it led me to the edge, then robbed me of relief. It was as though a tormenting reservoir was building inside me, wave after wave surging against a barrier that threatened to collapse but never gave way.

"Time to empty you, Zero," she told me, finally. The pulses were stronger this time, jerking my dick upward with more f o r c e and holding it suspended in the air. My hips thrust forward i n v o l u n t a r i l y as though I was fucking the air in front of me. Then, during one of the extended spasms, I could feel the semen surge through me, filling the condom as it swung violently back and forth at the end of my dick. There was no orgasm, no feeling of pleasure or relief, only the sensation of the device sucking me dry, emptying me of every last sperm in my body.

Juliet turned off the box when she was certain she extracted every last drop, and my dick collapsed against me, hanging against my belly, shrunken and lifeless. I had been so close, for the first time in so many months. Another second, and my orgasm would have resurrected me. It would have shown me I could enjoy the same breathtaking sex I had with Amanda when she was mine, if only she'd come back to me. Juliet had stolen that from me, hopeful it would cement the notion that the feeling was gone forever, that Amanda would never want me again.

Juliet removed the condom carefully and set it aside on my desk. As she rotated the rack upright, she told me, "We'll have these sessions every night until Amanda comes home, Zero. We need to be certain you're empty and compliant. After a few sessions, the device exhausts your ability to get hard for a while without my little helper here. The longer I empty you, the longer it lasts. You'll also lose any desire for sex, so I'm really doing you and Amanda a favor. She won't have to avoid your neediness for her, and you won't miss fucking her at all."

"But, why are you doing this, Juliet? Why do you care about Amanda and me? I don't understand why you're so obsessed with separating us. You must have other more cooperative 'playmates'. We don't even like you."

She reached out and took my shrunken dick in her hand, inspecting it and smiling. "This is why, Zero. Breaking a man's will, watching his defeat as his puny dick becomes useless to any and all women, and then, the best part - taking his pretty, neglected wife and making her my obedient piece of candy. You men and your smug, testosterone-drenched egos - shoving your cocks in women, collecting them like trophies. I'm the answer to that, Zero. I take men's cocks and balls from them in my own special way. Oh, don't look so frightened - I don't physically remove their proud little hardons and balls. I simply destroy their will and ability to use them, one man at a time. Nothing makes me wetter than imagining men living out their lives as weak, broken servants who will sacrifice everything to please the women they used to use as 'receptacles'."

She untied me as she talked, and soon I was again standing before her, naked, limp, and empty. In my bare feet, she was two inches taller than I. Her presence was more commanding than it had ever been; her classic face looked me over, practically sneering with delight. I watched her retrieve the condom from where she had placed it on my desk. She presented it to me like a trophy. I was shocked at the volume of semen it contained, no doubt collecting inside me while held prisoner behind the tiny cage for so long. It swung like a perverse pendulum as it hung between my fingers.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"Oh, my dear Zero - you think I'm going to make you d r i n k it, don't you? You should see the look on your face, the impending disgust in your eyes. Training you to suck cock would be much too kind. I don't want you to enjoy it - sex of any kind, that is. I want you to give up any thoughts of it at all - just a neutered man who obeys his queen. The cum you've given up to me is worse than worthless - it's dangerous. The world doesn't need more 'creatures' like you. What you must learn and accept from my lesson today is that your feeble sperm mustn't be allowed to escape their ultimate fate - complete and utter destruction."

She led me to the corner of my office where I kept a small microwave for quick lunches on the run. She opened the door, turned to face me, and put her hands on her hips as though she expected me to read her mind.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked. "Fry them!"

I stared at the condom, imagining a few of the millions of sperm it contained struggling to reach Amanda's vulnerable egg, ripe for conception. The condom was heavy with them; it held more cum than I would have left in Amanda after two or three nights of lovemaking. There must have been at least a few with the endurance to make our first baby, if only they had been given a chance.

"Yes - fry them, Zero. I'm waiting. Amanda doesn't want them inside her; she wants Vicente's. Tell me you understand. Tell me your sperm are worthless, or Amanda will get a preview of our video together."

I was sickened by the idea of annihilating the few rare sperm that could impregnate Amada after trying for so long. Still, the option of allowing Amanda to see the video was not one I could allow, so I placed the condom in the microwave, closed the door, and gave Juliet the answer she demanded.

"My sperm are worthless," I recited. "She wants Vicente's, not mine."

I was paralyzed there, cringing after what I had said. I could fight Juliet on many levels, but I couldn't lose Amanda. In spite of everything Juliet had said and done, I refused to abandon her. I wouldn't allow myself to give up hope. Juliet could take anything she wanted from me then and there, but I still believed in a future with Amanda.

"I'm not convinced, Zero," she told me angrily. "Push the fucking button and fry them!"

Juliet had entered a full minute in the timer, more than enough to cook my semen beyond all recognition. I touched the button, pressed it, and the microwave whirred to life. The condom expanded at first, then wriggled and popped as its contents boiled from the open end, turning to a brown crust. I told myself it was merely one day, one time, one condom of semen that I had destroyed. But at the same time, I had given Vicente one more day to fill Amanda with his more potent spew. Each gush from his cock would be bathing her pussy with sperm, each f o r c e f u l fountain of cum containing sperm with the programmed determination to find their target deep within Amanda's waiting belly. It was almost as though I was helping him impregnate her myself. I was more than ashamed; I was devastated. Juliet had made her point.

"Don't look so sad, Zero," she told me with a final look of satisfaction. "It was always going to be another man who gives her everything she needs. You're little more than an impotent caretaker. Her caretaker is all you've ever been.

I love the character development and dialogue. Really good stuff Don!

The best kind of comment, herboy! It means a lot. Next chapter is underway...

Don

amazing.. loved chapter 28

thank you for the new chapter, it's damn hot again
.
Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

Many thanks for reading, herboy, tef and eltipo. Here's Chapter 29.

Chapter 29


Juliet's late-night sessions continued for another week until Amanda and Charles finally returned. I had become more dismal and hopeless as the week passed. The emptiness and ache between my legs persisted as the days wore on, lasting longer after each session until I did indeed believe Juliet had neutered me permanently. Night after night, my compliance became easier, and my s u b m i s s i o n more genuine. As Juliet had her way with me, I began to believe she was right; maybe it was best that Vicente's baby would grow inside Amanda. Maybe he could do what I never would be able to do - give Amanda the c h i l d she so desperately wanted. He'd have implanted himself in her, bred my wife and sent her back to me, destined to bring a copy of himself into our lives. Amanda would bear a constant reminder of her lust-filled obsession with him, a hunger I'd never be able to satisfy. My life with her would mean forever accepting my role as her cuckold as she sought out the kind of men who fucked her as Vicente had.

I had expected Amanda to first appear at the office, accompanied by Charles's look of smug satisfaction he wore after winning another new, more profitable contract. Instead, she appeared at our kitchen table the morning after I endured another of Juliet's sessions. She smiled at me, stood, and hugged me as though she had only been away for a few days.

"Mmmm, I missed you," she breathed, close to my ear. "Did you miss me too?"

"More than that," I told her. "I was afraid you might stay with him. I know how much you like him, and what he, um, does for you."

"Don't be silly, sweetie; I'll always come home to you. But I do love being with him. He's smart and funny, and so are his friends. I was surprised they took me into their circle as quickly as they did. They're all rich and so gorgeous. Every one of the women looks like a supermodel. Don't get me wrong; I love how I look, and how Nickolas has helped change me from a mousey housewife to a sexy woman men stare at and seem to want all the time. But I still felt a little out of place; I'm not a tall, leggy model with the kind of, well, elegance they oozed. I never really felt the women considered me 'worthy' of Vicente. It helped that the men constantly took me aside and tried to get me to fuck them. Vicente knew; he teased me about it, but I didn't need anyone else - he was always more than enough for me."

"I guess as the weeks passed, I began to think you belonged to Vicente for good," I admitted. "He seems to be the kind of man who gets a thrill from taking other men's wives. You'd be a very special prize to him, a sweet, loving, beautiful girl who isn't at all like those other clones. I'm convinced men don't know how special you are until they get a chance to know the real you."

"That's so sweet, baby. But Vicente isn't the man I want to spend my life with. His ego would mean he'd always put his needs before mine. He's the kind of fantasy man women think they want, then discover that pleasing him is all that matters to him. On the outside, he's a gorgeous man with an amazing cock; but inside, his mind is always calculating, almost predatory. You can see it in his eyes, even when we fuck. He knew exactly why I was there, and I knew he'd never want to keep me."

I was surprised at her humility as I watched her there across the table. I had never seen her more beautiful, so fit and full of life. She had managed to retain every remnant of femininity while taking her lean, firm body to the limit of physical perfection. Her lightly tanned, velvety skin lay stretched over the finely sculpted frame of a female athlete. Even her facial features were more defined, more elegant somehow, with eyes that were wider and brighter than before. The blunt, chin-length pageboy hairstyle Nickolas had preferred shimmered like individual strands of silk with every nod and turn of her head. She had changed the color from golden yellow to platinum blonde, giving her a stunning air of overt seductiveness. It was an attention-getter, which I was sure Vicente encouraged. How could she think Vicente wouldn't want her in his life?

"Well, you look absolutely incredible," I told her, smiling my best "husbandly" smile. "He'd be crazy not to want to keep you, but I'm relieved that you're back. So, are you? Back, I mean. Here, living with me again?"

I was almost afraid to ask, but her appearance had overwhelmed me. This sexy, stunning woman was my wife? In spite of the amazing new creature before me, it still felt right to be together. But how would I ever be able to keep her?

"I am, sweetie, here, where I belong." She raised her arms overhead and stretched, her fingers spread as though she might catch some familiar part of our marriage in the air around her. Her wide smile warmed me with promises that I had feared would never return. I could barely contain my excitement and relief.

"I'll take the day off," I said. "We'll celebrate. Anything you want - shopping for a new outfit at that upscale boutique you love, and then dinner and a show. Anything at all. Just tell me. It'll be our day. Together."

"That would be great, sweetie, but Charles expects me to be at work today. After everything I've done for him, he's offered me a position at the office. It's not much more than a glorified secretary, but he promised to promote me to his personal assistant once I learn the ropes. He actually likes my writing style. He's going to pay my tuition to become a paralegal while I work for him. It'll take a while as a part-time student, but it'll mean a better future for me than anything I can hope to find with my art degree."

"But, I never knew you had an interest in contract law, or anything remotely like a paralegal. I always loved your artistic side. You're so good at it. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I know; it surprised me too," she told me. "But the challenges of it, the little details, and learning how Charles finesses his clients; before I knew it, I was up to my neck in all of it, and I loved it. Plus, now I might understand much more of what you do - well, maybe not with computers - you know I suck at that. But I want to learn everything else, how you help organize and help run a company like Charles's. So, well, sorry, sweetie, but today's supposed to be the first day of my new job. You understand, don't you? We can always do the things you mentioned another day - just the two of us."

"So, does this mean keeping Charles happy the way you did in the past? Is that still part of the job?"

She was quiet for a few seconds, then simply shrugged her shoulders and told me, "If that's what it takes, then yes, I suppose it will be. Does that upset you? I thought you kind of got off on the idea of him fucking me. You did watch us a few times, and I know you came. I saw you. You were really excited."

"I can't tell you not to fuck him if that's what Charles demands. But I've been caged for so long, I really hoped we could have sex again after all this. Now that you're back home, could you unlock me? Charles got what he wanted; he owns both of us now, and we both help keep his business more profitable than ever. I need this, Amanda, even if you don't. I'd even agree to let you get the kind of sex you need from other men whenever you want. But I also need us to be husband and wife again, and that means in bed as well. Was I really that disappointing to you? Couldn't you let me make love to you now and then? How can you expect me to live with a gorgeous woman I love so much and never touch you?"

Amanda got up, circled behind my chair, and put her arms around my shoulders. I felt her lips close to my ear, then heard her answer in her sexiest whisper. "I'll ask Charles to return my key. Then, I'll unlock you. And then, I'll fuck you - so well - that you'll know yourself what a little slut your wife can be now. How about that?"

The cage bit into my throbbing dick within seconds when she reached down between my legs and fingered it lightly, even lovingly, I thought. When I moaned, she whispered again, "Oh sweetie, we're going to have such fun together...". I knew I had heard those same words before, but where? When I felt my cum surge against the end of my cage and soak my pants, I no longer cared.



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Working in the same suite of offices with Amanda had my emotions seesawing from extreme pride to gut-wrenching frustration. She had earned the respect of many of our employees after Charles had broadcast her success in Spain. She had become the consummate professional, putting in long hours and attending her classes with an urgency I had never witnessed in her. The men still stared, and she let them stare; I knew she still enjoyed it. But she never again followed them into the restroom for those little "rewards" Charles had passed out like candy in the past. Along with her new look came a concerted effort to climb the corporate ladder, whatever the cost. Those same women who had called her a slut and a whore now complained to each other that Amanda had become a slave-driving, arrogant bitch. It made me smile when I overheard them. I knew the truth was somewhere in-between. I couldn't help loving Amanda either way.

But there were other things that worried me. Charles was just as publicly affectionate with Amanda as he had been in the past. When they were together, there was always his hand on her lower back guiding her as though she was still his property. His hand would venture lower at times to caress her ass briefly, then drift upward along her body, stopping between her shoulders where he'd apply his trademark soft massage, just as he did to all the women he planned to seduce.

Amanda dressed appropriately, but never wore a bra. It wasn't always obvious until she stretched a certain way, or wore a lightweight, filmy blouse that refused to hide the suggestive contour of her nipples. But I always knew. Her new breasts were perched high on her chest - firm, perfectly round globes of flesh that only shifted with her most exaggerated posture. Had Nickolas demanded a larger size, the effect would have been outrageously slutty. Now, even if someone noticed, it was as if Amanda had every right to flaunt the obvious, that for her, a bra had become merely a needless option.

I probably noticed more than anyone that Amanda and Charles spent hours together in his private, inner office. My memory of it was as fresh as the day it happened - that first time Charles sank his immense cock so deeply inside Amanda that she could barely restrain a low, muffled moan. It still bothered me that she had given in to him so readily. I had watched, mesmerized, from the moment the bulbous head of his cock settled within the moist, flared lips of her sweet pussy, then through the next few seconds when she took all of him to the hilt as though she had waited for his cock her entire life. Each time they disappeared into his inner chamber, I was both as excited and outraged as I has been that first time so long ago. Yes, I had told Amanda I understood. We both knew we had no choice but to allow it. But remembering her moan the first time she took every inch of Charles's cock still shook me to my core.

As much as I had hoped Amanda had settled into her new office duties, there were days now and then when I knew she was still seeing Nickolas. The first time she slipped into a brightly colored, figure-hugging tube dress after her morning shower, I was suspicious. She had spent extra time in front of the mirror as well, fluffing her hair and making little pouty faces with her newly applied, fire-engine-red lips.

"You're going to work like that?" I asked at breakfast.

"Not today," she answered, preoccupied with a small notebook in her lap as she plucked juicy segments from her grapefruit.

"Then what are you doing today?"

"Oh - Nickolas. One of Charles's 'missions'. Just staying in touch."

She was reading as she talked, waving her fork absently in the air as though it was explanation enough.

"He's taking you out somewhere?"

She still didn't look up at me.

"Nope - his place. We're staying in, I think. I love his pool, and he loves me in it. He always talks too much when he watches me swim. Stuff Charles needs to know."

"So, it's work? For Charles? Nothing else?" I asked, my angst rising, churning in my gut.

She looked up at me at last, squinting a little, trying to read me. Then a smile.

"What else do you think I might do to accomplish my 'mission', sweetie?"

Now she was grinning, teasing me.

"Um, I think you might fuck him?" I suggested.

She was still grinning at me.

"Oh, you do, do you? Do you think that might help me get the information Charles wants me to bring back?"

"I - I guess it might. But is it work, or because you enjoy it?" I asked again.

"Hmmm, let's see. Do I enjoy spending the day with a handsome, wealthy man, whose thick, reliable cock is constantly hard for me? I can tell you this - I really, really, enjoy my work. How's that for an answer?"

She closed the notebook and put it in her purse, smiled at me again, then stood and took me by my hand, pulling me tightly against her. It was almost as if she was naked; I could feel the subtlest contours of her body through the paper-thin dress. Her perfect breasts rubbed against my chest, her nipples anxiously hard and extended.

"It does still get my husband all hot and bothered when his wife enjoys a big, hard cock, doesn't it? When I take it in my mouth, and he cums? And I swallow all that thick, virile sperm until my tummy's full of it? I'm sure Nickolas would love that. Is that what you want me to do today? Remember, it is part of my job."

"I guess I thought you were done with that part - fucking Nickolas, I mean. Do you have to keep doing it now? Do you want to keep doing it? Are you still his girlfriend?"

Amanda pulled back a little and looked directly into my fearful eyes. Her smile vanished.

I've been many things for Nickolas - and I mean, many things. But 'girlfriend', the way I think you mean it, was never one of them. Nickolas 'owned' me, and he never let me forget it. He 'used' me: to show his friends he'd taken your wife from you, to exercise his power over me when his ego required it, and to test my capacity to withstand his tireless penchant for perversity. Nickolas doesn't grow tired of his women; he wears them out. He'd fuck me until I could barely breathe, then wanted more. So, he took more, snarling away while he was inside me, satisfied only when he saw that I was too helpless to respond, too weak to plead with him to stop so I could rest. He wanted me to become more and more submissive. I liked it at first, and when I gave all of myself I had to give, at times I thought he'd only be satisfied when he destroyed me with his cock. He was done with me when I couldn't do anything more for him. I was crumbling inside; I was mentally, physically, and sexually defeated. He accepted that as his prize and moved on. Another 'girlfriend' has taken my place, and she looks tired and frightened already. I doubt she'll last as long as I did."

I was stunned. I never liked Nickolas, but Amanda had never let on that he was such an unquenchable monster. The things he must have done to Amanda sickened me.

"And you're going back for more?" I objected. "Because Charles is making you?"

"I'm not going back for more, at least not more of that," she promised. I'm going back to get even. I'm the predator now because Charles has plenty of dirt to ruin the Waltzes, and Nickolas knows that. It's my turn to use him for a change. Actually, I can't wait; I know Charles has my back this time."

"So, it is work then," I said, cautiously.

She offered a few little nods as she looked into my eyes.

"You'll feel much better if you think of it that way, sweetie."

"But you're still going to fuck him, aren't you?"

She turned to go, paused, looked back over her shoulder, and told me, "The best jobs are the ones with great perks. We both know that, right?"

I had never stopped craving her new body, but watching her tight, round ass and sculptured legs as she left had me shaking for relief. Following the lines of her legs down to the bright red heels, I noticed the familiar, glittering "Waltz" emblem dangling from her ankle. It was the last thing I saw before she disappeared through the door on her way to the Waltz mansion.



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I found Ken's note hidden away in the file folder he knew I'd see that morning. It was just one paragraph to let me know he was leaving. He had taken my warning to heart about what was coming, and had found a job far enough away to make sure Chrissy and he weren't implicated in Charles's questionable business dealings. He had wiped every bit of personal information from the company database, asking that I delete the most recent backups after they fled. My heart went out to him when he confessed that Chrissy had wanted to stay, and threatened divorce if they didn't. She had a change of heart after Ken broke his promise to me and told her about my concerns, and the former employee found with a bullet hole in his head. He blamed Charles for ruining their sex life, possibly forever. Chrissy had become sullen and frigid, overcome by guilt and anger. Ken was sure their sex life, and probably their marriage, was over. He thanked me for my confidence and honesty and hoped that Amanda and I would survive unscathed. He had doubts that he and Chrissy would.

My next concern was how I would tell Charles, but I wouldn't have to wait long. Charles burst into my office an hour later, red-faced, with Ken's formal resignation letter in his hand. I had seen him upset, and even angry, but never that furious.

"That little fucker!" he yelled as he paced in front of my desk after shoving the letter in my face. "Fuck that little fucker! And his stupid, skanky little wife too! Ohhh, he won't get away with this - when I find them..."

I took the letter and read it as though I had no clue, then f o r c e d a look of surprise when I looked up at him. "But he was doing a great job, Charles. This just says he found a better opportunity with another company. What are you so worried about? Did he take something he shouldn't have?"

Charles stopped in his tracks and faced me. "I don't even know yet!" he barked. "That's for you to dig into, and make it quick. God knows what he has. Oh, he'll pay for leaving like this - not even a day's notice! And I can make him pay, too. I'll post pictures of that ditzy little wife of his sucking and fucking me on so many sites that they'll never be able to show their faces again, anywhere! I'll be surprised if that greedy little whore even stays with him for long after the fucking I gave her. You should have heard her whining - 'Oh please fuck me again with your big cock, Charles - my husband's is so tiny I can't even cum with him.'"

I let him rant for a while, shaking my head as though I understood, and even agreed. I promised I'd look into what he might have taken immediately, and he left, gasping and snorting. I thought he might have a heart attack. Why was he so worried? Maybe a few of those federal agents were getting a bit too close for comfort.

Within the next hour I had rigged our backup server to appear it had been fried by an electrical surge that took out our backup power as well. I'd have to resurrect an old employee database from before Ken was hired. After that, I had made him vanish into thin air. Charles might find them if he cared to look long enough, but at least I had given them a head start. I'd miss Ken, but not Chrissy. If he had any sense, he'd leave her to someone like Charles. I wondered if she'd ever have enough money and cock to keep her happy.


***

***


Amanda returned to her office work most days, and I was relieved to see that her time with Nickolas was limited to just an occasional visit now and then. The worst mornings were when I'd see the Waltz emblem and anklet just above the black, strappy heels she wore for "special occasions". She didn't have to tell me how she was about to spend her day; I knew all too well. But she always came back to me by the day's end.

At the office, Amanda strutted with such authority that I was certain at least part of her time with Nickolas had become her work. That she now had the upper hand when she was with him, somehow made her sex with him more exciting to me. I'd think of her showing off her body there, poolside, manipulating him, promising him anything, if only he'd tell her another story about where he'd been and his adventures abroad. I imagined his cock was her reward for another of Charles's 'missions', and frankly, I was fine when I thought of her naked there with her legs splayed, inviting him to slide his thick cock inside her. As long as Nickolas gave her what she needed and nothing more, why shouldn't she enjoy a juicy, self-indulgent cum, surrounded by the lush, luxurious confines of the Waltz estate? Well, as long as she came home to me afterward.

She never stayed with Nickolas through the night. She'd come home, shed the dress she had worn for him, and shower immediately before dinner. I had a sense that she considered them 'work clothes', and felt awkward wearing them at the table with me. Or, maybe she needed to cleanse her body of Nickolas's overindulgence in musky cologne and the dank, voluminous remainder of his semen leaking from between her legs. Either way, I took it as a courtesy, careful not to flaunt the side of her work she knew I obsessed over. If I wanted the dirty details, I had to let her know.

"So, how was your day with Nickolas?" I asked.

"Ugh - not as productive as Charles would have liked I'm afraid. Sometimes he just sulks and barely talks to me at all. It always takes more to coax him out of one of his moods. I did what I could. I'm exhausted."

"I imagine a guy like him has lots of problems," I suggested. "Wealth like his must be high maintenance."

After she didn't reply for a few minutes, I went fishing.

"So, what's it takes? To coax a guy like him out of his mood?"

She shrugged her shoulders, still picking at the huge salad in front of her.

"Oh, it's always something different. Stuff you probably don't want to hear about."

"I, ah, wouldn't mind, really," I assured her. "I might even enjoy it."

She looked up at me and grinned, searching my face for some clue that I was serious.

"Oh, you would, would you? About the man who practically fucked your wife into a coma in the past?"

"But all that's changed now, right?" I reminded her.

"It, definitely haaas..." she teased, unable to hide an evil grin.

Amanda put down her fork, reached across the table, and took my hand. She turned my palm up and traced slow delicate circles over it with her finger.

"Sometimes it makes him happy to photograph me by the pool. So I pose for him, mostly with my top off. He's in love with these breasts he bought me. It's an ego thing - he likes to think he owns them. I know he shares the pictures with his friends, but it's harmless. More ego-stroking, showing off the boobs he bought for someone's wife who fucks him."

She stopped, then dug her nail into my palm and pressed until I flinched.

"That's you, you know," she went on. "The husband of the wife who fucks him? The 'cuckold' is what he tells his friends."

I was lost for words for a while. He tells his friends? All that? While he shows them her picture?

"I - ah - guess I am. But hearing it...that he tells them that...Jesus!"

"I thought you knew Nickolas, sweetie. At least a little of who he is. That surprises you?"

"I know him well enough, and no, it doesn't surprise me that he'd think or say that, but to all his friends? While they stare at pictures of your breasts on display by his pool? Wow."

She began to caress my palm with her fingers again.

"Mmmm - it's kind of hot though, isn't it?" she whispered. "You let him have my body, and he buys your wife bigger boobs so he can show me off to his friends?"

My hand was shaking, and my dick had leaked precum until my pants were soaked with a sticky pool of it.

"That's - that's what works?" I croaked. To, um, brighten his mood?"

Amanda folded my hand gently between her open palms and stared into my eyes.

"Only sometimes, sweetie. But when he's really in a funk, it's more work for me. Maybe you can guess what that means?"

"God, Amanda, don't you have my key here somewhere? If I could only..."

"Masturbate while I tell you how far I go to please him? Oh, how I'd love to see that, sweetie, but I'm sorry. Charles still has your key. And I doubt he'd be very glad to hear from you after the day he's had. But if you listen closely, maybe you can remember all this later, when I get the key from him."

We sat staring at each other for minutes, unable to decide who spoke next. Finally, it was me who broke the tense silence between us.

"The - the work? The times when it's, more work for you?" I begged.

She began to draw random figures on my palm, so lightly, so carefully plotted - just a touch with a single fingertip, and then a slight brush of her nail.

"The head is so big and round and hard, like a ripe plum," she began. "I lick it at the very center, and a drop of precum rolls onto my tongue. It's bitter and sweet at the same time, and I draw it inside and swallow. The tip of my tongue goes deeper, penetrating him, prying open the little slit that will deliver his cum. That always makes him shiver.

"I open my lips over the purple, spongy head, stretching, trying to reach the flared rim behind it so I can feel the entirety of it fill my mouth. It's so hot there, throbbing, pulsing, still leaking, sometimes flowing with precum. When I explore it with my tongue, he moans for the first time, and I know I have him. He'll place his hands on my face, softly tracing my lips where I've taken him inside. He sighs then. He always does with my lips sealed around his cock. He touches where we join, where my mouth captures him, proof to him that he owns my mouth, and more of me to come.

"I push on, open my throat, and take more of him, proud that I allow his angry, swollen head past where I might resist. But I don't. It's his turn to push then, and he does, sometimes cautiously, sometimes not. I feel his fullness as he delves deeper, filling me almost like he does my pussy. But I can't keep him there as long, so I work him, knowing his limits. He spills soon. At first a warning trickle, then a thick flood of cum and sperm as I struggle to consume it. In fifteen seconds, it's done. I suck him on his way out, milking those final drops onto my tongue again and swallowing. He'll be mine for a little while then, weak and compliant, until he wants more of me; there are other parts of me he wants to use. But his mood is nearly gone. And then I can rest a little before he's there between my legs, opening me, pushing inside me again."

I sat in silence, stunned that Amanda could recall those moments she spent with him so vividly. She had made it her work, to pry the most privileged information from Nickolas, secrets that he guarded with his life. But there was also an element of deep satisfaction in her voice, as though the pleasure it gave her was her own personal reward.

"It isn't all work then, is it, Amanda?" I asked, finally. "Is it just his cock, or are you attracted to him as well?"

She patted my hand, smiled lovingly, and answered without hesitation. "You know my past with him, sweetie. I love you, but you were never enough for me. I think you've accepted that by now, haven't you?"

I felt my face redden, and nodded, wishing more than ever before that I could have been the lover she secretly dreamed of. I had learned my instincts in bed had been less than perceptive. I wasn't suited to be the aggressor, her Alpha male fantasy. I had assumed, much too late, that my soft, loving touches and gentle thrusting were all that a wife expects. I hadn't known at all what Amanda needed. How could I have been so clueless for so long?

"I wish I had known," I confessed. "Maybe, I could have..."

"Shhh," she whispered, still stroking my hand. "It just isn't who you are, sweetie. Trying to be something you're not wouldn't have been the answer. Besides, there's the other thing too."

"Other thing?"

She glanced down at my lap, then looked back into my eyes again. "You know what I mean. I don't blame you. There's nothing you can do about what you were born with."

I knew what she meant alright. I felt sick. There was nothing I could do to compete with those men, the ones whose cocks she had become so obsessed with.

"We were so young back then, and I was so inexperienced," she offered, now staring into her own lap. "I fell in love with you in the shop that day. My 'Prince Charming'. As time passed, I took it for granted that sex was merely my obligation once or twice a week. I didn't mind though - it was...nice. It was all I knew. But these dreams I had, over and over, the ones that woke me in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, and drenched between my legs? I'd remember them. I tried not to think about them - but I couldn't help it. I did, every day. They were so filthy; beast-like men, carrying me away, ripping my clothes, crouching between my legs with these monstrous erections. I was so frightened, but wanted them so desperately at the same time. I always woke in a panic before anything more happened, but during the day, I needed to know - what might have happened, what it might be like to be...filled...with one of those ravenous beast's cocks."

Eventually, Amanda looked back across the table at me. Her expression was one that begged me to listen, to understand. Her voice was a soft, pleading, confession of everything she had never told me. So, I just listened.

"Then, much later, Eric began to pay attention to me, and I began to notice him - things about him I'd never tell you. I'd stay at the window when you didn't suspect, watching him sweat as he mowed his parents' lawn. He wasn't like the beasts I dreamed about, but he was so young and strong and tanned, and um, available, I suppose. I'd look forward to the days when he'd be there, pushing the mower in circles, wearing nothing but a pair of faded cutoffs. I finally found the nerve to approach him one of those days. You were traveling, and I told myself I was just lonely. We talked for a while. He was so nice to me. I had put on that halter top you like so much - I guess I knew he'd look, and he did. After we talked for a few minutes, I could see he was hard, and I was flattered it was meant just for me. It was so huge - I'm pretty sure he wanted me to notice. I ran back inside and masturbated that day while I watched him finish mowing. I was sure that would be the end of it. But it wasn't."

"I probably knew you had a thing for him, Amanda, even back then," I admitted. "But he was just a good-looking college kid with a crush on my wife. How could you not be flattered? I thought it was kind of cute, really. Then I could see you were spending more time with him, calling him over to help with your laptop, asking for little favors I knew you could do yourself. That's when I began to fantasize about it - the two of you together. I didn't want it to happen; it just stuck in my head after I'd seen you with him more and more often. It wasn't about whether his cock was bigger than mine, or that you felt neglected - I was so clueless about any of that. But the tickle was there, that the two of you might, well, fuck, while I was away, even though I was sure it would never happen. You'd never do something like that. God, I was so wrong about everything."

Amanda smiled warmly and tightened her hand over mine. "I suppose I recognized what you were thinking, sweetie. I could see it when you thought I didn't notice how you stared at my body while Eric and I were together. At first, I thought you were just proud that another man would find me attractive. To be honest, I did begin to wear clothes that I hoped would make him stare at me the same way. Then I began to see more and more of these articles online about men who share their wives, and I began to fantasize about being one of those wives. Sometimes, when we made love, I'd close my eyes and imagine you were Eric. Those orgasms were like nothing I had ever felt before.

"I began to make up these little fantasies after that, mostly during the day, at work. In my favorite one, you were away on business and I was taking a long, relaxing bubble bath. I'd hear a knock at the door downstairs, but I was half asleep and didn't bother to answer. Suddenly, Eric would be standing at the open door of our bathroom, staring at me in the tub. I'd smile at him and spread my knees apart, but he couldn't see more than my breasts and nipples there above the soapy water. Neither of us would say anything. I'd watch him undress, he'd climb into the tub with me, and we'd fuck so violently that the floor would be soaked with puddles of water. He would be so rough with me, so confident that I'd let him have me. He didn't care about you, or that we were married. He just knew I'd be unfaithful to you, and that I wanted him to fuck me."

She stopped for a while to let me take all of it in. I could feel her hands on mine, holding it tightly, as though she hoped I'd accept her confession without insult or anger. I was assaulted by so many emotions; all I could do was stare at the face of my beautiful wife of so many years. I thought of all the changes we had weathered, how the woman before me had become someone completely new, and yet I could still feel her love as she stared back at me.

"Did it ever happen?" I asked, finally. "Before that night at the window? Was it a secret the two of you kept from me?"

"No - never, sweetie! It was always just a fantasy, until later, when you knew - or, I guess I let you know that night. You know all the rest, I promise."

I couldn't get the image of Amanda and Eric fucking in our tub out of my head. I wondered what I would have done if I had caught them there splashing in the soapy water, Amanda moaning for more, Eric's cock pumping in and out of the sex-starved wife of his clueless neighbor.

"In your fantasy, you watched him get undressed?" I asked, now drowning in thoughts of Amanda's dream. "Will you tell me about that? How he did it? What he looked like? What you were thinking?"

She smiled again, brought my hand to her lips, and kissed it.

"I hadn't seen him naked then, but I would recall what he looked like, all sweaty in those ragged cutoffs. I'd imagine him unzipping his shorts, dropping them, and standing there, teasing me with his erection bobbing in front of me. It would be as thick as my wrist, pointing straight up at the ceiling. It was so unlike yours that I'd gasp and tell him how huge he was. He'd love that, and tell me I could have it, all of it. I would wonder if I could take all of it, if it would hurt me. But in a way, I wanted it to hurt, just a little, at first. Then it would fill me up, make my belly bulge with the shape of it. It seems ridiculous now, but in the fantasy, it would be everywhere inside me, touching and caressing places that had never been touched. Then, the things he'd make me say - I'm not sure you want to know how I..."

"It's okay, Amanda. Tell me. If there was more, I need to know."

She released my hand and dropped her arms to her sides, her gaze fixed on the tabletop as she spoke.

"I imagined he'd make me beg, and I would, sweetie. I'd beg him to fuck me harder, over and over, so many times I couldn't begin to count them. He'd want my ass, and I'd beg him to fuck me there too. He'd carry me to our bed and we'd do it there, on my belly, with my legs spread as wide as I could for him. Then, he'd want me to tell him - oh, sweetie, this will be hard for you - to tell him he fucked me better than you ever did, that your wife deserved better sex than I ever had with you. And, I would, sweetie. I'd tell him you couldn't make me cum without licking my pussy, and that I deserved his cock instead of yours. But it was all just a fantasy, sweetie. I was frustrated, and horny, and so desperate for sex. I didn't mean it, not really. I wanted all that from you, but you never gave me that. Never. Now that you know, you don't hate me, do you?"

"Amanda, I already know. I've known for months now, not because you've told me all this, but because I've seen it with my own eyes. And I'm still here, aren't I?"

She sniffed a little, and I was sure she might begin to cry.

"But, it sounds so hurtful, so filthy when I say it, sweetie - that I actually felt that way toward you before any of it happened. In time, it seemed much easier to just, well, do it, to play it out and see if you'd want to play too, like the husbands on those websites."

"But you suspected, right? That watching you and Eric together was, um, arousing to me? I can see how having sex with Eric could become part of your fantasies, and that you hoped I'd 'play too', as you put it."

Amanda looked up at me again and brushed a tear from her eye.

"It wasn't just that. I began to want it, so I looked online for, I don't know... excuses? Permission? Some kind of optimism that it might work? I found all of that, and more - websites and forums for swingers, 'hotwives', and 'cuckolds' - things I never even knew existed. The more I read, the more I began to live in that world. I wanted Eric. I had to have him. But I wanted you to want that too."

"But, why didn't you just tell me?" I asked. But honestly, I knew Amanda well enough to know why.

"Tell you what? That I wanted to fuck another man? And that he was our next-door neighbor's college-age s o n? My fantasies were one thing, but I didn't want you to leave me because of them. Maybe you had a few fantasies too, but I was pretty sure you didn't want to give my body to him - not really. I was sure it was a step too far. So I kept the fantasies to myself for so long that eventually, I thought I might cheat on you with the first man I saw who wanted me. I didn't want to cheat, but I was losing control of myself.

"The 'cuckold' thing intrigued me. I read all these posts by guys who wanted their wives to dominate them and fuck other men. But the posts by wives were even more captivating. They were confident, intelligent women who flaunted their infidelities in front of their approving husbands. Who was I? A successful man's wife whose only achievements were a bored salesclerk in a struggling clothing boutique where my husband 'rescued' me, and one of three 'gofers' in an upscale art gallery where my degree had never earned me the position I'd hoped for. I wanted to be them, or at least a woman with their, um, convictions. I still wanted Eric, but I wanted even more - the absolute, uncompromising control of my sex life, with men who were, well, not like you at all in bed.

"I read more about the men these wives chose, the men who fit their fantasies perfectly. The name shocked me at first. 'Bull'. But it fit in a way that struck a chord in me. Bull - a virile, dominant, rutting man with a huge cock and an infinite capacity for sex. A Bull would assure a husband bent a knee to his wife's needs. A Bull would 'take' a wife's body and satisfy all her physical needs; all while leaving her love for her husband intact. Could this have been too much to ask of you? But, oh my God sweetie, I wanted it so badly my panties were soaked before I finished reading it. Yes, I wanted Eric, but Eric wasn't my fantasy Bull; Eric would have to wait."

"So, that's when you found Charles, or rather he found us," I suggested. "I still don't understand though; he isn't especially handsome, and he doesn't have a young, fit body like Eric's. He's older than you by at least fifteen years."

She shook her head slowly, still unable to look me in the eye.

"I don't quite understand it either, sweetheart. It's that word again - 'Bull'. He's rich and powerful, and simply took liberties with me no other man had ever dared to take. And, he did it right there in front of you, while you watched and did nothing to stop him. That was a sign to me, a very powerful one. Here was an important, wealthy man who wanted me enough to send both of us that message, without a moment's concern or fear that I'd reject him, or that you'd try to stop him. But there's something else about Charles, something I think men don't see. He has this magical ability to get into my head, to make me want to do anything he asks of me, no matter how outrageous or dangerous it might be. I know you didn't see it, but I melted inside the very first time he ran his eyes over my body. He was making love to me, then and there, and no one, not even you, could see it. No one except me."

"So, you've put yourself in his hands now?" I asked. "You've given him your body? For how long? For as long as he wants you?"

"Something like that. Charles taught me how to be one of those women I read about, that I could have the kind of sex life I read about. He gave me that kind of sex, and still does. When I found it excited you, I hoped that you'd follow along. I thought you might become one of those men I read about who wanted more and more, um, in-your-face control, and even domination. And, Charles did everything he could to push me in that direction. I worried I might have been too insensitive at first, but it felt so rewarding to have total control of my marriage for once. And, then it got you hard. The more Charles fucked me, the easier it became to play the kind of wife he wanted me to be. It was just that - his cock was so fucking amazing. I had to do whatever he wanted if I wanted more of it. And I did want a lot more of it. I still do."

Nothing she told me was a complete surprise. I knew Charles's games well, and knew he'd do anything to get whatever he wanted. What I didn't know was how long he intended to 'want' Amanda, and how she'd react if or when he discarded her for another vulnerable, neglected wife. Would she stay with me? Find another Bull? Keep me caged?

"The cage," I said. "Was it his idea or yours?"

"I didn't know much about them, really. It never occurred to me to make you wear one until Charles demanded it. But still, it was an element that fit those posts and stories I read, so there was a kind of appeal to it. It meant controlling my sex life, and more than that, controlling yours. I know it was far-fetched, but I hoped you might even find it hot.

"I have to confess, I do like seeing you wear it, how your penis looks so, um, hopelessly sad and useless in it while I'm getting Charles's monster cock. I don't know why; it seems so cruel sometimes. Still, I never imagined I'd be able to deny you an erection; thoughts of controlling your penis so completely still intrigue me. I never suspected Charles would keep the key, but he convinced me that it would keep me from giving you what he called 'pity-fucks'. After a while, even that was hot. He owned both us and our sex lives. If I hadn't been getting his cock all the time, I never would have agreed to give him the key."

"But you will get it from him like you promised, won't you?" I begged.

"He doesn't want you to fuck me, period, sweetie. But I think I can persuade him to let me keep it again if I can convince him how I love 'teasing' you with it. Actually, I'd love to watch you cum after being locked up for so long. It could be my little gift to you after he fucks me - listening to my dirty story about what he did to me while you cum in your hand. And I promise, Charles will never know."



***

***



Amanda and Charles spent more and more time together at work. I became obsessed with keeping track of how much of that time they spent hidden away in his inner office. There were days when I couldn't concentrate on my work at all as I imagined Amanda bent over his desk or riding him on his chair. I watched them so closely that I always found some tiny detail that revealed they had fucked after Amanda opened his door and strutted quickly to the elevator on her way to one of her classes. Often it was an extra button undone, or sometimes even a bit of her blouse that she had failed to tuck into the back of her skirt. My cage held me in nervous excitement every day as I waited for Amanda to unknowingly display another sign that they had fucked.

Amanda had become bolder with her choice of outfits around the office. She seemed to be less concerned about showing off her breasts beneath silky tops and sweaters with plunging necklines. It was subtle at first, but as she spent more time at the office, more and more people noticed. I wasn't alarmed; the clothes were expensive, classic choices that flaunted her figure, even if they did hint at the evolving sexual siren Amanda had become.

I never knew if she had chosen the clothes herself, or whether Charles bought them for her.
Still, some days I couldn't help staring when the strappy heels were replaced with skin-tight, thigh-high boots. Instead of her usual feminine, silky blouses, she wore fitted tops that snugged her belly and pushed her breasts up into an open V, teasing onlookers with a glimpse of the firm, round flesh straining to escape. She knew I'd be staring on those days, and was sure to spend a little extra time in my office. I was a little stunned at first.

"That's a new look. It's, um, kind of sexy for the office, isn't it? You'll have all the women talking. Are you seeing a client today?" I asked, assuming it would be Nickolas.

She acted as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. "Nope - Charles bought the outfit for me a while ago, and he's been asking when I'd wear it. I know, I know - I look a bit like a dominatrix. But Charles has been after me to wear it for him, and I couldn't keep avoiding it."

"I guess I'm surprised 'dominatrix' is a look that appeals to Charles," I told her. "He always has to be 'in charge', doesn't he? I thought submissive women were his thing."

She leaned forward, rested her hands on the edge of my desk, and looked into my eyes, grinning. The exposed curves of her breasts made my mouth water. "Well, my dear husband, do you think I look 'submissive'?"

"I, um, think you look like you get whatever you want these days, Amanda," I answered. "Do you? There, in his office every day?"

She could tell I wasn't upset or jealous, just aroused at the thought of them fucking on his desk.

"I do, sweetie," she whispered, after glancing back over her shoulder at my open door. She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. "I get his long, thick cock in me every day. And when I do, I think of you, here, knowing he's taking your wife's pussy. And you're so close, just a few doors away, wanting me, while your boss makes me cum sooo hard."

Then she stood and backed away, her smile purposely fading a little as though she knew it would keep my imagination rampant with images of her hungrily taking Charles's huge cock. "Well, I have class in an hour, so I'll have to run, sweetie. Have a nice day..."

I was used to her teasing, but was shocked that she'd go to her class in the outfit. How many young college studs would see her? Hit on her? Maybe even think she was a hooker? I thought about what I had told her, that she looked like she could "get whatever she wants". I remembered how she "wanted" Eric back then, and that she had let him fuck her after just a little flirting. She had been my "innocent" little wife, then had chased him shamelessly until she invited him to put his cock inside her. She still didn't know what had happened to Eric; I couldn't bring myself to tell her. Anyway, she needed to look genuinely shocked when the Feds closed in and ended Charles's control over us.

She stopped in my doorway as she left, dropped her pen, then bent at her waist to retrieve it. The tiny leather skirt rose to reveal her amazing bare ass and the moist, swollen cleft of her pussy. As she plucked the pen from the carpet, she paused and peered at me from behind the column of black boots and perfect thighs. She smiled, then trailed her fingers slowly up along the back of her thigh. When one of her fingertips pressed lightly into the moist folds of her exposed pussy, I moaned quietly, not caring who might have heard me lust after my own wife.

Amanda feigned surprise, then stood quickly as though her coy flirtation was accidental.

"You're such a bad boy!" she said, grinning and wide-eyed. "What would your boss do if he caught you looking at me like that?"

Amanda swayed her hips once or twice as she strolled out through my door, but never looked back. I knew the men there lusted after her; I was used to that. But I needed her; I needed to fuck her so badly that my hands shook and my breath came in short, ragged gasps. I desperately imagined the day when we were free of Charles and this place, a time when I'd be free of my cage, and the delicious creature I had just seen would be mine again. I wanted her naked in bed with me, her incredible body against me, on top of me, under me, any way she wanted. I'd do anything for her - lick her to orgasm, give her to other men when and if she needed them, even just jerk off while she whispered dirty stories of her past as she nuzzled me on my pillow. But most of all, I wanted the men who now owned her gone. Charles, Nickolas, Vicente - those men who threatened to take her from me with their big cocks, money, and power.

Bowing to Charles and my envy of these men was exhausting. After Juliet was added to the mix, at times I genuinely feared I didn't deserve Amanda, that a future with me would be just as disappointing as it had been in the past. I was coming apart, at my breaking point, with only the bleak future of continuing as Charles's yes-man and Amanda's outed cuckold. Amanda couldn't see it, but Charles wasn't just grooming her to stay on as his assistant; he'd use her body as a bargaining chip, client after client, year after year, until eventually, he'd replace her with a younger, sluttier substitute. But I knew trying to convince Amanda would only lead to an argument about my jealousy getting in the way of her new "career". We had both put ourselves in Charles's hands. Amanda was addicted to the cock she had always dreamed of, and day after day, it seemed I was fighting a losing battle to reclaim her as my loving wife and partner.

Don Jetman

Thank you for the continuation of this story! Excellent work and thank you for sharing it.
I'll sometimes wait for several chapters to a story to be posted before I continue reading. Personally for me I find this works best for me with this story. I can get a good hours worth of reading and a "good" hours worth of rubbin my little Nubbin!
Many have posted that Juilete is their favorite character, I'm still rooting for Amanda. I'm a real fan of the " Loving Cuckold" relationship theme so I'm hoping for a happy ending for Amanda and Tom.
Again an excellent well written story, I know you sacrifice and invest a lot of personal time to bring a little enjoyment to us cuckolds. I just want you to know it is greatly appreciated!

I agree absolutely, thanks so much
.
Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

For me, it's most fun writing Juliet because she's a wild card. Amanda is more likeable, but also more understandable and familiar to many of us. We recognize the archetype and its origins - the neglected wife whose hunger for the kind of sex she's always fantasized about blossoms (or bursts?) into reality when she meets the 'right' man. But who is Juliet? How did she become this fearless predator, a driven, bisexual fembot who derives pleasure from enticing her victims to submit to her rampant perversions? At what point in her life did some event occur that twisted and shaped her into the dangerous seductress she's become? Is she driven by past anger, neglect, or revenge? Can she possibly be devoid of any trace of human empathy? If not, where is she hiding it, and why? And hell, gorgeous villains are always the most interesting...

Don

Fabulous

Don Jetman

But who is Juliet? How did she become this fearless predator, a driven, bisexual fembot who derives pleasure from enticing her victims to submit to her rampant perversions? At what point in her life did some event occur that twisted and shaped her into the dangerous seductress she's become? Is she driven by past anger, neglect, or revenge? Can she possibly be devoid of any trace of human empathy? If not, where is she hiding it, and why?
Hmmmmm only a great and awesome author such as Don Jetman has the answer to these questions!!! And, I'll wait patiently for those answers!!!

Don Jetman

I have been reading some of your past stories, and I want to say you have a unique way of writing that makes a reader actually become one of your characters and totally become part of the story. I really enjoy your stories!

A huge "thanks" to everyone who's stayed with the story. Finally, here's Chapter 30.




Chapter 30


An hour after Amanda had left my office, I heard a commotion in the common area near the elevator. I raced to my door and watched as a group of six federal agents ordered everyone to stop working and line up along the far wall. I had never seen so much fear and panic in one place. Many of the women were openly crying as the agents collected their personal information and questioned them. I had hoped the Feds would warn me about their final raid, but now there was no escape.

I stared, horrified and humiliated, as I watched two agents drag Charles and Amanda from his office. Amanda was in her bare feet, her boots gone, her blouse undone and open to her waist. I recognized the female agent who escorted Amanda as the woman who had visited me in our home weeks before. She rolled her eyes as Amanda struggled, desperately trying to hide her bare breasts, now fully exposed by the yawning breach at the front of her fitted blouse. Charles's shirt was unbuttoned, his belt undone, and his zipper partly open, revealing an occasional glimpse of the purple, bulbous head of his inexhaustible, raging cock. He cursed the hulking agents who grasped him by the arm, threatening him with insult after insult. Then it was my turn to join them when the agent I recognized from their past visit with me ushered me from my office to the waiting line of my terrified coworkers.

Charles, Amanda, and I were the only ones spared any kind of immediate interrogation. The three of us were cuffed, paraded past the others, and led into the elevator by three armed agents. Amanda's blouse was still unbuttoned, and her cuffed hands at her back left her breasts exposed and thrust forward through the opening. As she cried there in her bare feet, I couldn't help wondering if her panties were laying on Charles's office floor.

Charles wouldn't shut his mouth. When he wasn't threatening the agents, he was promising Amanda and me that he'd have us set free within the hour; that he'd "protect" us from any arrest or prosecution. The agents never said a word, although I saw them sneak constant glances at Amanda's exposed, quivering breasts.

When the elevator doors opened, we were put in separate cars and driven from the site. I had cooperated with the agents, and even confessed to some embarrassing details. Now I felt angry and betrayed by them. Amanda had no part in any of the illegal activities the agents claimed to be following. In a way, her only part in any of it may have been fucking Charles's clients, but she hadn't taken money directly from any of them. I couldn't imagine having sex with his clients would be considered a crime compared to the offenses Charles and the men he dealt with had committed.

Once at the FBI's field office, we were taken to separate rooms to be interviewed. I was determined not to say a word until I knew more, and I was worried that Amanda was alone, half-naked, and terrified. Finally, the two agents who had visited me in our home appeared and sat across from me. They opened a folder and arranged some documents on the table between us, then began to explain.

"You've cooperated in the past, and we're grateful for that. Everything you've given us will help put Charles away for a very long time. We believe you suspect how dangerous he and his friends may be to you and your wife, so we're here to offer you a safer future than the one you feared.

"These documents describe numerous activities Charles has initiated or is a part of: the sale of weapons and classified information to foreign unfriendlies, human trafficking for sexual exploitation and debt bondage, federal tax evasion, and finally, m u r d e r in first and second degrees. Your knowledge of these implicates you but doesn't necessarily make you and your wife prosecutable suspects. That option is at our discretion, if you continue to work with us."

I scanned the documents before me, each outlining one of the charges. "So, what do you want from us?" I asked. "Amanda knows nothing of any of this. I'm the one who cooperated with you from the start. No one wants Charles put away more than I do. I'll do whatever you ask; just leave Amanda out of it. She really doesn't have a clue..."

The female agent looked up at me and sighed. "You do know that your wife was gathering privileged client information for Charles, don't you? And that she gave clients full access to her body to accomplish that? It seems you both were guilty of prostitution at a certain point; you both profited from it, didn't you?"

My hands shook with both fear and shame. Would they really prosecute Amanda and me for sex crimes? After everything I had done for them? After my embarrassing confessions that Amanda actually loved the satisfaction she received from fucking them, and that it had excited me to watch?

"I - I told you all this before," I told her. "Yes, she needed sex with other men, and I allowed it. But it was Charles who used it for profit. Yes, he gave us lots of bonuses and raises, but he also held it over our heads. At first, it was rewarding, even exciting, but then we became his slaves; we grew to like the, um, sex part of it - both of us. Then he threatened to expose us, to release pictures and videos of Amanda everywhere, to our friends and families. Eventually, we had no choice; he owned us."

"So, you never attempted to stop Charles from using your wife as his whore? From giving her to his friends for their erotic perversions, merely to ensure his business transactions favored him and his company?" she asked as she took copious notes.

"I thought I was giving Amanda what she needed. It was something she had wanted for, well, years after we were married. It made her happy, I mean, even before she began to spy for Charles. She had these sex fantasies, ones I couldn't make real. She needed someone, um, more aggressive, like the Alpha males in her dreams. I just wanted to make her happy..."

I remembered the woman's classic face, staring at me there in our own home. She was just as attractive now, if not more so. I couldn't help glancing down at the pristine, white blouse where her jacket parted; the full, round shape of her breasts seemed to burst through the opening, both teasing and threatening me in the same instant. When she spoke, her voice was cold and accusing, without a hint of sympathy for Amanda and me. But beneath her lack of empathy, her insinuations prickled like a bed of anxious thorns. She seemed more obsessed with our sex lives than Charles's past crimes. Now and then I began to realize how delicious our sexual history was to her. It rose up into her abrupt, accusing conversation like tiny fingers, lingering on a word here and there, unable to resist the perverse sensations they delivered. I had seen her face flush in the midst of the interrogation; she had left the room immediately only to return a few minutes later without explanation. I had felt my own sexual tension build along with hers, and I wondered if her panties had been wet from some kind of seething, unrestrained arousal. I shivered when I imagined there was a touch of Juliet hiding just under her skin.

"Well, she must have been deliriously happy with all those men," she went on, her sarcasm now completely unchecked. "And you were equally 'happy', giving her to them for sex? You never feared she might leave you for one of them, if the sex was that satisfying to her? I mean, you've already said that she wasn't satisfied with her sex life at home, for various reasons. Certainly, she might find one of these wealthy, vigorous men attractive enough to leave you for him."

"I worried about it - sure - I always did. But she always came back to me. She told me she loved me, again and again, in spite of all the other men. She wanted to stay with me - she just wanted sex with them and she knew I'd allow it."

"So, you were convinced Amanda went to them for their sexual prowess, the kind of performance you were incapable of, and not for the rewards you'd later receive from Charles? I suppose that might be understandable; after all, before your employment by Charles, she was, what was it? A kind of clerk at a struggling art gallery? We might agree that her physical attributes far outweighed any kind of competence in the business world Charles inhabits. That made her more of a prostitute than a secretary or assistant then, didn't it? Even though she may not have been introspective enough to be aware of it, that's really all she was, wasn't she?"

"But she didn't do it for the money!" I argued. "It's not that she didn't enjoy our new lifestyle, but Charles had this hold on her, from the minute they first met. He wanted her, she was infatuated, and I needed the job. He gave her what I couldn't, in and out of bed, so it all seemed to work. For Amanda, it was all about Charles's confidence and power, and, well, how well-endowed he is. Much of it still is. She has no idea what kind of monster he is. If she did..."

The agent stopped writing and looked up at me. "Well, she does now. She was genuinely horrified when we told her about Eric's death. Apparently, she had feelings for him. Did you know that? That they were more like lovers than merely a young man just out of college enjoying the opportunity to have sex with your wife now and then? She's in tears, right now as we speak."

Was I mistaken, or did I notice a sick twinkle in her eye when the agent told me about Amanda's reaction to Eric's death? Amanda was alone, frightened, and grieving, and I couldn't be there to help comfort her. I could only hope the agent with her was more sympathetic than my interrogator was with me.

"He was our neighbor and friend," I assured her. "We watched him grow up and play in the yard next to us. There was always a bond between them, early on. We were like family. Like me, his m o t h e r traveled a lot for work. Amanda became a second m o t h e r to him while his was absent. Amanda would help Eric with his homework, and he began to depend on her. They spent so much time together when he was younger. I was proud of her for taking him under her wing and caring for him. Why wouldn't she be devastated when you told her about him?"

The agent paused, looked up at me again, and frowned. "So, were you 'proud' of her when they started to have sex together?"

"That wasn't until much later, after Eric graduated from college. By then, he had become a good-looking man, and Amanda had been frustrated with our sex life. I knew how desperately she needed something else, but we were still very much in love. It was as though it was destined to happen. I can't say I wanted it, but I thought about it when I watched them together. When it finally happened, I was there in the room. Watching Amanda's joy was intoxicating. Something in me wanted her to have that joy whenever she wanted it. If I couldn't give her that myself, I could at least give her permission to enjoy it. I still don't know why, but I became aroused by it. They were a perfect couple in bed; he was so fit, with the muscle and stamina of the men in her dreams. I was taken by his confidence; the way he excited her, how he handled her body. He did things to her I had never imagined she'd let me do. They were, just, beautiful together, and Amanda loved me so much for it. You try to make it sound disgusting - it wasn't. Maybe she even loved him - I'm not sure. But I know she loved making love with him, and I was happy for her."

It seemed to shut her up, and she stopped taking notes as well. Then she shrugged and pushed the stack of documents toward me.

"You may think we're here to make your life difficult. We aren't. We're here to change your life, if you'll let us. To do that, you'll testify that Charles and the Waltzes are guilty of each of these federal charges. Eric's ****** is a state matter, so you'll also give them what you know."

"But, we'd never be safe," I warned her. "Charles and the Waltzes have people everywhere who would do to us what they did to Eric. Charles would release the pictures and video of Amanda and me into the wild, and we'd never be able to show our faces in public again. Facing these people in court would be terrifying. We'd never work again. If we lived, it wouldn't be much of a life."

"We can give you new lives, if you'll help us put these people away for a very long time," she promised. "You'll have new names, of course, and you'll be living in a new location, one we choose so we can help to keep you safe. Your possessions, your home, your cars, and everything except a few personal items will be confiscated and used as remuneration for your part in this. You'll have to start over, completely from scratch, but you'll have each other - that's what you claim matters most to you, isn't it?"

I thought of Chrissy, and how she would have refused losing everything to keep her and Ken together. Would Amanda even want me under these conditions? Could she forfeit her prospect of becoming a wealthy man's invaluable business partner? A wealthy man with the huge cock she craved?

"I'm not sure Amanda will agree to it," I told her. She'd be giving up so much - the new house she loved, and, um, sex with those men..."

"She's already agreed," she informed me, after a deep sigh. "I don't know why you'd want her, but she's willing to stay with you under the conditions we're offering. I'm not sure how, but I suppose you'll find a way to make it work. You probably deserve each other."

I had more than one sarcastic answer in my head, but thought better of using any of them. The sooner I could avoid more of the bitch's questioning, the better off both Amanda and I would be.

"Just tell me what you want me to do," I said, finally. "But only if you promise to keep Amanda and me safe when it's over."

She pushed the documents closer, handed me a pen, and told me, "Just sign them. Some include an admission of your and your wife's guilt, but we'll waive that part as a favor for cooperating. You won't have to face them in court; we can go forward ourselves from here. They'll never see the paperwork, and it'll be securely locked away after their trials. We have plenty of witnesses who were victims of the Waltz's sick games, and a few who won't mind seeing Charles spend a few decades in prison. Then, there's the IRS..."

So I signed them, all twenty-two pages that listed the crimes I had helped report to the Feds. I paused at one near the last of them. It outlined the men Amanda had manipulated on Charles's behalf, describing her part as selling her body for profit and gain, under the duress of having her sex videos made public. I looked up at the agent who waited patiently there with a satisfied smile.

"The videos; you'll destroy them, won't you? We won't be able to hide if you don't. Someone will recognize her, share them online, and they'll find us, even after we have new names. You can't let that happen...please?"

"We have them - don't worry. They'll disappear, I promise. But, you should know that some are likely already in the hands of a few anonymous collectors who secretly paid for them with things of far greater value. We can take them down as we find them, but doing that before they're shared with a wider audience won't be easy. I'm afraid it's a price you may have to live with."

Great. Now my fear of being killed was just a bit more horrifying than having Amanda's videos leaked and her becoming this mysterious, cock-hungry porn queen. My hand hovered over the signature line as I imagined what might be in the videos that might be leaked; Amanda fucking Charles, Eric, then Vicente, then Nickolas, and me there masturbating as she moaned and begged them for more. When I hesitated and looked up at her, she frowned for a second as though she could read my mind, then told me, "And no - you can't have copies."

Bitch.

"What about Juliet?" I asked. What happens to her? Will she do time as well?"

I thought I saw her flinch, quickly stifling what appeared to be a silent chuckle.

"For what? Making your little porn movies? Seducing your wife? None of those are prosecutable offenses. Actually, she's disappeared. She seems to have dropped off the face of the planet, at least for now."

I stared at her, horrified that Juliet might be out there, free to find us and invade our lives once again.

"We have plenty of information about her though; even her history back to her c h i l d h o o d. Did you know she was an MD, and a psychiatrist? Yes, well, until they revoked her license a few years ago. It was hushed up back then - very dark stuff. She spent a short time as a patient in a psychiatric institution - until they assumed she was "cured". No doubt she'll surface sooner or later. You will let us know if she does, won't you? She's kind of a unique 'lab rat' to a certain institution that would appreciate knowing her whereabouts."

After I finished, they dressed me in a bright orange jumpsuit and ushered me down a long hallway to a small bay of holding cells. When I turned to see Amanda and her escort following me, I could see they had given her a jumpsuit that was a size too small; it clung to her curves even though unzipped to her waist, showing her off in a way that had the agent's eyes traveling over her body with obvious arousal - I could see a hint of his erection at the front of his pants. To me, she looked very small, and very frightened.

I peered into the last cell and found Charles there, crouched on the edge of his bunk with his head in his hands. I couldn't stop myself from yelling at him.

"You said you'd protect us, Charles! Instead, you've ruined us - destroyed us!"

He looked up at me with dead eyes, as though he didn't know me, then lowered his head again slowly as I passed him. It wasn't the Charles I had come to know - the confidence and arrogance were gone, replaced with a stark hopelessness that made him appear helpless and weak.

After passing through another security gate and down two flights of stairs, I was led to an empty office with the usual furnishings, a desk, and a few chairs. Minutes later, Amanda was ushered in as well. We were given seats and then left alone. Soon two men joined us, one with a sidearm, and the second with an officious, stern expression that gave no clue to what our future may be. He sat at the desk, shuffled through the papers I had signed, then looked back and forth at us without saying a word.

"Your paperwork is in order," he said, finally. "You probably thought you were both headed for prison. The jumpsuits were necessary to assure our remaining guest you'd be residents of a cell like his when this is over. He was naturally suspicious that you had a part in his arrest. Now, hopefully, he's less so. Parading you in front of him in those jumpsuits was just the beginning, a demonstration of your impending stay with us. Your surprising little outburst put the icing on it, so to speak, so good for you on that. Now, what remains is to give you new identities and an inconspicuous place to live. Oh, those jumpsuits are no longer necessary - you can take them off and leave them here."

I was relieved when they had put the jumpsuits on us over our clothes. My cage would have remained an unending joke with the Feds. They had allowed Amanda to button her blouse and had given her a pair of sneakers to wear, but under the jumpsuit she still looked disheveled, and to my eyes, freshly fucked. I was sure her panties were still there, soaked with his cum, thoughtlessly discarded on Charles's office floor.

"I have your new birth certificates, social security numbers, and driver's licenses here, so you can take them with you. I'd suggest learning and practicing your new names for your own safety. We've packed a suitcase for each of you with clothes from your closets and essentials that should last until you reach your destination. Your house, cars, and most of your possessions have been confiscated and dispersed to help assure your anonymity in your new life. Expect a few deliveries of some of your personal possessions at your new location in time. You'll have a new home, fully paid for under your new names, and one car, again titled under your names. The rest is up to you. We know enough of your history to have arranged an assortment of job interviews for both of you. Choose one that appeals to you, and it's likely you'll be hired. We've also deposited one hundred thousand dollars in a new account at a bank near you. Consider it a reward for your cooperation. It's our final compensation, so spend it wisely. You'll find your new life quite different from the opulence Charles has afforded you. Any questions?"

Amanda and I looked at each other, then back at him. It was too much to absorb within the few minutes he'd allowed.

"So, we're free? We can go?" I asked.

"A charter flight is standing by to take you to your new location where an unmarked van will deliver you to the house. The driver will have the house and car keys and will hand them over when he drops you.

"Just one last thing; it's up to you to keep your heads down. We do what we can, but we can't watch out for you night and day. Keep to yourselves for a while. Keep your mouths shut. Practice using your new names at home so you don't create suspicion in public. And if you ever knowingly go to work for another 'Charles', you'll be in a cell beside him for a very long time. Now, your plane is waiting."

We were led through an outer door and along the perimeter of a fenced walkway until we boarded the small plane that sat waiting for us. Once aboard, Amanda turned to me, threw her arms around me, and began to cry.

"Oh God, sweetie! They killed him! They Killed Eric! Why would they do that? Why?"

I sat her down and belted myself in beside her. Telling her wouldn't be easy.

"From what I know, he was stealing private information from Charles, things he could trade for a lot of money. He left with no notice; he just disappeared. It looked very suspicious, and Charles knew just what he had done."

"So, you knew?" she said, still weeping.

"I suspected, but then the Feds let me know. That's when I began working with them to bring Charles down."

"Charles? Charles killed him? Are they sure?"

"He either did it himself, or had someone else, possibly the Waltzes, do it. I don't know. I don't even know if the Feds know yet. I think they suspect Nickolas."

Her face went pale. She fell back in her seat as the plane ascended, her hands clutching the armrests, her eyes glued to the window beside her. I could imagine what she was thinking. She had fucked the very men who may have killed Eric, and she had not only enjoyed it, she had craved it, even lived for what they gave her. She had obeyed them, let them ravage her body, and even let them cage me to make me the helpless cuckold husband they insisted she'd agree to.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" She asked, finally, never looking back at me.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't. The Feds insisted I keep everything to myself, and Charles would have had us both killed if he suspected I knew. I was protecting you; protecting both of us."

"But, I was fucking these men! I let them do all these things to me - anything they wanted. My God - I came with them, so many times. How could I have not known? It became an addiction - and now it scares me that I might not be able to go back to who I was."

"You were never in any danger," I told her. "Those men adored you. They couldn't get enough of you. It would have been worse if you knew and inadvertently alerted them to the investigation. I really had no choice; it was part of the agreement to keep us out of prison."

She sat quietly for a long time before talking again. It appeared she was deep in thought, maybe recalling how she was treated by them. Finally, she asked me, "Was Vicente part of this? I knew he was no angel, but please tell me he isn't a m u r d e r e r."

"I just don't know, Amanda. I'm not sure if the Feds do. I'm guessing it was more likely Charles or Nickolas. I always thought there was something more sinister about Nickolas. The entire Waltz family are shady characters. You can take some comfort in knowing you helped take him down with the information you milked from him. The Feds told me most of it was in Charles's files on the server at work. They had access to it for a year or more."

I kept glancing over at her, imagining her fucking Charles in his office just hours before. Her blouse had partially opened again, unbuttoned halfway to her waist. She was naked under it; her breasts and nipples were partially exposed, but she hadn't seemed to notice. When I looked lower, the tiny leather skirt had ridden higher, and I glimpsed a streak of dried semen along her inner thigh. There were no other passengers on the plane with us, so I was sure modesty was the last thing on her mind after what we had been through. Still, it shook me a little to hear her go on about Vicente. Would her preoccupation with him be permanent? Even as we spoke, I imagined it had made her forget that she was still half-naked.

I questioned whether I'd ever be freed of the nagging ambivalence whenever I'd see her like that. I had always adored Amanda's petite, flawless body - not that I didn't admire how her body had evolved to that of a stunning siren. But it had been Nickolas who had transformed her, along with her eager participation.

She had always joked about wanting bigger "boobs" when she'd wear a low-cut dress.
"Just enough to show some cleavage," she'd tell me. "You'd like that too, wouldn't you? All men do...would that make you jealous? If I'd show off my boobs a little?" The rest came with Nickolas's diet and workouts at his gym. Amanda had said he had been a relentless trainer at first, but that soon the high she got from the hours of intense exercise made her want even more when she saw how her body responded. She really was Nickolas's creation now, one I both lusted after and regretted, but it was a creation I'd need to learn to live with during our new life together.

I began to recall the photos of Amanda and Vicente from her first visit with him, how she beamed at him, and how he seemed to broadcast his lust for her. She may have been Nickoias's physical creation, but I could see she had become a woman who seethed with a new thirst for sexual adventure and satisfaction. I couldn't help staring at those perfect legs stretched out in the seat next to me. My heart nearly burst from my chest when her bare thigh brushed, then nestled against mine. At that moment, I didn't care that Vicente was her fantasy man. I didn't care that he fucked her like a wild beast with a cock ten times bigger than mine. I didn't even care that she may want to see him again. All I felt was the pain from my hard-on as it desperately tried to escape from its cage.

"I know you liked him, Amanda," I added, finally. "I think Vicente liked you too. I was aware enough of that to be jealous, but in a strange way, it also excited me that he pleased you. I even imagined him taking you while I held the replica of his cock he sent you."

Amanda turned toward me, peered into my eyes, and paused for a few seconds as though she was unsure how to answer or whether to go on. Then, she did.

"At times, I wished it was a real life with him, sweetie. I knew he wouldn't want me forever, but life with him was so exciting. He was full of surprises, in and out of bed. Yes, he did have a dark side, but he was always careful to shield me from what was behind it. While I was with him, I thought I had found my perfect fantasy man, even if it didn't last. I loved every day with him, and at the end of the day, I hoped there would be at least one more just like it. I didn't love him, not really; but I thought I could have."

"So, do you think it's over then?" I asked fearfully.

"Is he in trouble too? Can they even arrest him while he's living in Spain?"

"I have no idea," I told her. "I don't know if he's a suspect or not, or if he is, whether Spain would allow him to be extradited. He's a wealthy, powerful businessman with many high-level connections. He may lay low for a while, but I doubt he'll pay for his connection to Charles with prison time. I imagine it would be quite a while before you could see him again, if you wanted to; I'd rather you didn't though."

"I - I'm, not sure. I will miss him." She had turned away and was staring out the window again; what was she thinking?

"You'll miss having sex with him, you mean? I've seen the copy of his cock he gave you, so I guess that's understandable. Aside from his size, was he that good? I mean, better than anyone you've had sex with?" I almost added, "Even me?", but just couldn't get the words out.

"He - was, sweetie. He was a gorgeous man, with such a beautiful cock. It wasn't just its size. It was just so pretty when it was hard; it was so thick, and curved upward just enough that it fit inside me perfectly. I had never seen a cock with a head so big; I might have imagined it, but I always thought I could feel the presence of the flared shape of it, moving far up inside me, stroking and stretching me. There was this place inside me that would make me shiver and finally cum when it touched me there. After I told him that, he knew how to make me cum whenever he wanted. He'd avoid it on purpose sometimes, making me wait, making me beg, making me say the most obscene things. When he'd do that, my god, my orgasms were so deep and long and powerful. No man has even made me feel that way.

"But as much as I loved that, he also made me feel loved and sexy when we fucked. He made me feel like I was his, like I belonged to him. Then later, I could tell it was probably the way he was; he could make any woman feel that, but only when it suited him. Then I'd come back to earth for a while, convinced I'd always just be a plaything for him.

"The thing was, it wouldn't be long until I wanted to be his again; he'd take me out and show me off to his friends, and I was flattered that they all hit on me. They all wanted me. Then he'd take me back and fuck me, and I'd fantasize about what it might be like to have a life together. It was a constant roller coaster of emotions, but I don't regret any of it. Would I see him again? Would I fuck him? Honestly, I can't say. Maybe; but it would be dangerous, right? We're not the same people now, and they expect us to avoid everyone in our past. I'll have to learn to be "Kaitlyn", and calling you "Billy" will be just as hard. Let's not think about Vicente for now. We'll have enough to get used to when we're settled."

The plane dipped below the clouds and began to circle the city below us. Amanda took my hand just before the wheels touched down, squeezed it, and gave me a cautious smile.

"Will we be okay, 'Billy'?" she asked.

"Maybe I'm the one who should be asking you that," I answered. "Are 'we' okay?"

Amanda had turned again to watch the city rise up beneath us.

"We are, sweetie," she answered quietly. "Maybe a fresh start is just what we need."

What an amazing story, from start to finish I was engrossed and loved how the characters developed.
Thank you so much Don ❤️🙏🏼 x

What a wonderful final chapter, Don! Thank you so much!

xoxoxo xoxoxo


Christine

Thanks so much, everyone -

Ah, but there's at least one more chapter...


Don

Ooh! 👀
I can't wait Don ❤️🙏🏼 x

I wanted more of Juliet.

Thanks again everyone! I couldn't resist one last followup chapter to show where they "landed".

fredderf: Juliet's still out there, waiting for the sequel...

Don

Sequel?!? 👀😎❤️ x

No guarantees at this point about a sequel, but I liked "Juliet" too, too much to abandon her. But, she's out there in the wild, not in prison like the rest, and she's intelligent and relentless. An MD, and a former psychiatrist, her personality is partly based on a popular fictional movie character, although she's not a cannibal! She just may be able to find the happy couple in time, and have a little "fun" with them.

Don