Chapter 2

The house was one of many hidden behind dense hedges and wide iron gates along the endless avenue. Finding it was painfully slow. The camera's cold, glass eye found them, internal elements shifting with precision, then stared unblinking at them through the windshield for what seemed like hours.

At first they sat in silence in the waiting car - her heart racing with forbidden surrender to another, his with apprehension, and finally terror. She was delicious in the cool evening light. He had never seen her so radiant - the creamy white skin of her neck gracefully arched over a tempting hint of heaving breast revealed at the border of the modest neckline.

The dress was delivered earlier that day, a plain black box with a single red rose attached. Steven was curious but quiet upon its arrival. She placed it on the bed unopened, smiled, and put her arms around his waist.

"He always dresses me. Oh, it's not what you think. No garter belts or lingerie, none of that. He puts me in the most tasteful clothes, something different each time. Very chic. Very expensive. Afterwards he takes them from me and destroys them."

"He thinks that little of you?"

She smiled, resting her head on his chest against a bounding heart.

"No - he thinks that much of me. Each time, I'm what he wants me to be. Each time is special. And after, it's gone forever. Me, the place, the time, the dress - it's his creation, unspoiled, and forever unshared by anyone."

Her words still echoed in his head as they waited in the dark car. The dress fit her like a glove, a black, velvet glove. He marveled at how the fabric could be so thin, and yet so opaque. It moved as though it was a part of her, revealing fleeting lines of breast, hip, and thigh with the slightest motion of her body. Down the front, a single row of soft, tiny, black buttons, an inch apart, ran from neckline to ankle. He had watched her button each one, an agonizingly slow process. She had taken her time, smiling up at him after every two or three, as if to say, "Imagine how long it will take him to get to me, to open me up, to peel me like a piece of wet, juicy fruit."

The heavy gates swung inward on smooth, silent hinges. He hesitated, his foot hovering above the pedal, now uncertain whether he could guide the car through the entrance, then along the densely wooded drive that would take her to him. She sensed his reluctance and turned to him. He fought for breath as she leaned closer, her trembling body draped in exquisite ebony. The fine, delicate swirl of her ear bore sparkling clusters of emeralds that flirted with the light between perfectly placed strands of hair. She took his hand. Her smile was weak but genuine.

"Now that we're here, I can't ask you for this. I can't bring myself to utter the words, to sound so selfish, or to hurt you."

Her eyes were liquid and wide with sympathy. But was there a fleeting hint of excitement in the flicker of her dark lashes?

"I can only tell you that it's happened, that it's something I can't escape. Something in me needs this, something so powerful I feel I'll self-destruct if I don't see it through. I don't understand it. I can't answer your questions. But I can love you. Is that enough?"

He flinched when she squeezed his hand lightly, then took the wheel and drove through the open gates without a word. She turned away without apology, looking straight ahead as he drove on. The tear he waited for never came. He knew the road ahead was the only way to keep her.

The gates vanished into darkness behind them as the car crept along a broad curve, lit only by muted lamps hugging the driveway at regular intervals. He heard her small sigh as she settled back into the seat, her eyes now staring miles into the night. Guessing her thoughts tortured him as he peered ahead into the blackness. Was she already with him? Did she know his plan? Was she eager to escape his costume for the night, to be naked and used in a game of their making? Or was it the anticipation of the unknown - something that would push her far past boundaries not yet crossed?

The house rose like a glowing fortress, awash in the blue-white of countless lights spread over the sprawling grounds. The hulking Georgian manor, spacious entry court, and winding drive were carved out of the surrounding dense vegetation that contained the light within it, keeping the property in near-daylight long after sunset. A wide portico supporting six massive ionic columns dropped to the level of the circular driveway through a series of gleaming white marble steps that sparkled under the intense light. He stopped the car in front of them, peering into the rows of tall, arched windows lining the front of the massive two-story structure. Taking his hand again, she looked as though she belonged there - elegant, beautiful, a precious gift to be enjoyed, treasured, possessed.

"Wait for me?"

"I'd rather not. I - I don't think I can..."

"No, my love. I'm not asking. He is."

"But, he never said anything about having to watch you with him. I couldn't take that. Isn't this enough?"

"He doesn't want you watch us. In fact, he won't allow it. I'm his and his alone when we're together. But you must show that you're willing to share me, to give me to him whenever he wants. Bringing me here to him, and later returning me to our bed is the only gesture he demands. You have to give me willingly. It's sex, not love. I love you. I always will. Please show him you'll wait."

She was out of the car before he could answer, making her way up the rows of steps. As she turned just briefly to glance back at him, he noticed the flush across her face, and her hardened nipples straining against the delicate fabric.

She rang the bell at the door. He watched her as she waited patiently, hands at her sides, the slim curves of her body on display in the finest detail under the intense light. Even so, the black dress clung to her body in ways that would have made her unrecognizable to him from the back, had she not just left her place beside him minutes ago.

The door opened. She took a step forward. His arms encircled her, one at the waist, the other moving up her back until his fingers dug into chestnut curls, pulling her closer. She lifted her chin and opened her mouth to him. He covered it with his, suddenly pleased that her response was so eager, that she would so savagely invade his mouth while her husband watched. His hand moved lower, palm now gliding over the hard flesh of her ass, naked under the wisp of black cloth. She moved close against him, her legs closing around the muscle of his thigh. Her hips tilted into him, then again, and again, as the kiss became more frenzied.

Steven watched them from the car, the kiss, his caresses, her thighs clutching the stranger's leg, hips grinding against him in heat. And when he thought he could watch no longer, they stopped. Two large hands appeared on her shoulders. He was speaking to her. She was nodding, slowly, mechanically. His hands disappeared again, retreating down the front of her dress, busy, doing what? From the back it was difficult to tell. His hands reappeared on her shoulders, this time pulling the dark material to the sides, then down, over her arms, until her bare back glistened in the floodlights. Elyse stood before him, naked to the waist, her hands now busy below his belt, her actions also hidden from her husband's sight.

She knelt, now on her knees below him, her hands still busy, still hidden from her husband by waves of shining hair. Her small fingers closed around his cock, smoothly running the length of it as the tip grew wet before her eyes. She closed her lips around it, the ball of flesh hard and warm against her tongue. She welcomed the familiar taste of him, and let him know with eager but careful teasing, sucking and licking just as he had taught her. But this time it was different. She was wet, and loved the feel of him in her mouth as she had on each occasion, but now she felt her husband's eyes upon her. Would he allow her this one passion? Was he strong enough to accept her physical need for another and be party to it as well? She loved Steven desperately. He nourished her soul. But Simon fed her cunt, and her mind refused to consider having to choose, should it come to that.

Steven watched them from the car, stomach tied in knots, glancing away each time doubt began to overcome him. Although he saw nothing but his wife on her knees in front of him, her flexing back naked in the night air, agonizing images filled his head - her lips sucking greedily at the stranger's cock, her hands busy, milking, coaxing the semen from his body into her waiting mouth. He fought the temptation to escape, to turn the key and drive away. But he knew her well enough by now to recognize the genuineness of her love for him and her need for this stranger's hold on her.

At that distance, it was difficult to make out the man's features. The skin of deep bronze against the crisp white shirt, shining jet-black hair pulled back, bound into a short tail, all suggested a man of Latin descent. And the voice on the phone; he thought he detected a slight accent beneath the intimidating, articulate voice. His display of total control as Elyse knelt before him, her naked breasts offered to him as Steven imagined her caressing a stranger's cock with her lips and tongue, all against the backdrop of the brilliantly lit mansion presented a surreal and painfully erotic scene that mesmerized him. As much as he needed to look away, he found he could not.

After a minute, maybe two, the man reached for her, pulling her gently to her feet. His hands appeared again, this time lifting the dress back over her shoulders, methodically fastening the open buttons, one by one. The demonstration was brief but effective. Elyse understood the intent all too well, but wondered whether the show of power was excessive, considering the emotions her husband must already be juggling. She also knew that power was everything to Simon, power and control. He would insist on an offering, a sacrifice, from her husband from the start. To witness her submission from behind, with few details, forcing Steven to imagine her mouth on Simon's cock, to ask himself if her nipples hardened when she touched her lover, to agonize over what Simon saw as he looked down over her bare shoulders and firm, young breasts - all this was what he would demand. Simon took her hand, and as the mansion swallowed them she warmed inside, knowing she had not heard the engine rev or the car speed away into the night.