Traded for Love (3 page)

He stroked my clit with his fingers until I was slick enough to lend him some of my wetness. Without wasting any time, he shoved the head of his cock inside my tight asshole. The burn was both amazing and painful. The frigid bottle contrasted sharply against the heat of his dick.

I clenched. He only chuckled and gave me more. Hissing and wincing, I let the pain roll over me like a wave. My experience was that the pain went away if I relaxed, so I did my best to do so. It was easier said than done with my nerves tingling and my skin stretched around the glass.

Using me as he had many times before, he began using my ass to pleasure himself. He gave absolutely no thought to my satisfaction. In the Master/slave transaction I was nothing more than an object, a sex toy. As he thrust into me, he continued sliding the wine bottle into my pussy, deeper and deeper until I began feeling my orgasm building again.

I was sure I'd never been so full, or so utterly stretched, before.

He was surprisingly quiet as he sodomized me, a fact I didn't pick up on until he slowed his pace.

Sitting back on his haunches, he withdrew the wine bottle and set it aside. Exposed and stretched, I hoped he would finish inside of me. The act of filling me with his come was incredibly intimate to me. It'd been how we'd created our daughter, how we'd cemented our bond. To me, there was nothing hotter than that rushing sensation of fluid inside of me, especially when it was from someone I loved as much as him, my husband, my Jack.

He cleared his throat and moved around to the other side of the chair and a part of me curled up and died. Maybe it was the hope that we'd get to share a special moment after having gone so long without one.

Instead of giving me an orgasm, it appeared he was only interested in being serviced.

His erection bobbed in front of me, and like the dutiful slave I was, I opened my mouth wide. His hips were eye-level with me, so I tipped up my chin, so my gaping mouth was at just the right height.

With his right hand, he reached down and closed his fingers around my wrists. Now I was totally immobile. His left hand guided my head forward and took my ponytail captive.

I flattened my tongue and shut my eyes.

He seated his entire length between my lips, pressing deeper until the tip brushed past my uvula and touched the back of my throat. My eyes watered and my gag reflex
almost
engaged. It'd taken me a long time to train it not to trigger, but I'd been successful.

My mouth responded naturally, generating lots of spit for him to glide effortlessly between my lips.

His pace quickened and his balls slapped rhythmically against my chin. I stole breaths every time he pulled out, but he was so fast that it was hard to keep pace with him. It became difficult to breathe as his shaft spent more time blocking my airway than I wanted.

I mentally begged for him to come. I was sure I couldn't take it anymore.

Finally, he shoved himself in as deep as he could go and sprayed his cum all over the back of my throat. I could feel it sliding down into my stomach, could taste the evidence of my own sluttiness on his skin.

Though I hadn't gotten to have an orgasm, I'd still gotten to experience part of him that I hadn't in months.

Tied to a dining room chair, my pussy freshly fucked by a frosty wine bottle, my ass sore and probably a little torn—used and bound, I realized I was happy to have been the object of his attention and affection, even for just a little while.

Maybe I should have been upset, because I'd known he didn't care about my satisfaction.
Instead, I was grateful
.

First Steps

(Emily)

Two days later, I was reading in the bedroom when I heard Katherine crying. I waited for a minute or two, expecting Donna to respond to her, but the baby kept crying. Having nothing particular to do, I went in to see her.

Donna appeared, almost knocking me over in the process. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. I was in the bathroom,” she said, flustered. A few strands of silver hair had fallen over her cheek and she tucked them away.

“It's okay, Donna. She's only been crying for a minute.” I checked the time on my phone. “It's almost time for you to go, isn't it?”

“I was going to make sure the baby had her bottle and a fresh diaper before I left,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. I'd always questioned the need for her black apron, which she wore over her soft polo shirt and black pants, but she insisted it helped her carry things when she had the baby in her arms.

“You can go ahead, honey. I'll handle it.” I smiled.

“I don't mind, really!” Donna said, rushing up to the crib before I could reach it.

I narrowed my eyes. “Is something wrong? Did Mr. Duncan get upset with you for something?” I asked, reaching in and picking up Katherine. I bounced my daughter in my arms and took her to the window.

“No, I'm just … very mindful of how I spend my time when I'm here. I don't want it to seem like I'm slacking off.” Her lip looked like it might start trembling.

“Don't worry, Donna. You're doing a spectacular job,” I said with a smile. “You can go now if you'd like.”

“Only if you insist.” She untied her apron and strung it over her arm. “I appreciate it. It'll be nice to get to the bus stop early,” she said.

“Would you like me to drive you to the stop?” I volunteered.

“No thank you, ma'am. I can make it. It's not too far.”

I smiled warmly. “Have a safe walk, then.”

I half expected her to bow as she stepped into the hall. She was incredibly obedient, just the type of staff member I would have expected Jack to hire.

The baby sniffed and grumbled. “Don't cry, baby,” I said softly, giving her a view of the window. “See? If you look across the river, you can see Rainey Park from here,” I said. “And look at the birdies on the water.” I pointed to a flock seagulls gliding above the East River. I loved that ours was one of the
few
houses on Roosevelt Island. Apparently, Jack's family had owned his palatial three-story house for decades.

Katherine laid her head against my shoulder. I used the edge of my sleeve to wipe away her tears. “Aw, you just missed mama, didn't you?” I cooed, taking her back to the floor. “Want to play?”

For the next few hours, I sat with her and, in vain, taught her shapes, colors and letters. She had already learned how to say basic syllables, though the way she strung them together was still nonsensical. She'd managed a 'mama' a few weeks before, but I didn't think she knew it meant
me
.

She hadn't said 'dada' yet, but Jack hadn't seemed disturbed by that fact. Katherine was my pride and joy, and though I did love Jack, she was most of the reason we were still together. I had needs, like any other woman, and Jack wasn't fulfilling them.

Maybe I just need a hobby, I thought, handing Katherine a colored plastic ring. Though I spent a good amount of time with the baby, I didn't do as much mothering as most women did. I had Donna to do a lot of the daytime stuff for me. This left me with lots of free time.

It occurred to me that I could pick up a part-time job. I'd begun to feel that my social life was lacking, and a part-time job, even if I didn't need the money, would give me the opportunity to meet people. My only obstacle, it seemed, was Jack. He had put a stop to many of my “low class” practices after he'd married me.

He dressed me in expensive clothes, showered me with designer handbags and shoes, but in reality none of that meant much to me. Every time he loaded money into my personal bank account, it felt wrong somehow.

Kim had once said “everything has a price”. It wasn't until we'd been married several months that I felt … paid for. The guilt and frustration that came with that sentiment was two-fold.

On one hand, I was young and had never lived on my own or supported myself. I lived with Kim, working part-time jobs, and then all of a sudden I was wealthy. Well …
Jack
was wealthy. Since I got married, I didn't have the opportunity to take care of myself, so I didn't know
how
.

On the other hand, Jack told me it was a dominant partner's
job
to support his sub financially. Being unfamiliar with the lifestyle, I hadn't questioned him. I rarely did.

I was somehow stuck in the middle of it all. Nothing I owned had been brought into my life by the power of my own hands, unless one counted Katherine.

Then again … even
then
, of course, Jack had played a part in it.

As I helped Katherine put colored plastic rings on a stand, I shivered inwardly. I didn't like to think of mine and Jack's early sexual encounters. It was difficult to think of those instances in a positive light. There'd been so many times that I'd said “no” and he'd continued doing things to me anyway. Initially, I'd dismissed the roughness with which he'd handled me. I'd given in because I felt it was part of the bargain, and in return for obeying him, I got his love.

And I used to feel like that was enough.

As time went on, he had to use less and less force. This, he'd told me, was because my training had progressed. Apparently, it was natural for me to resist at first.

All I knew was, if I thought about our first few times too much, I didn't react as one should when thinking of something pleasant. I got nervous, unhappy, and often tried to shake off the memories before they fully took hold of my emotions.

I'd never told him. Why would I have? After all, he was in control of everything. He'd done a good job of convincing me that there wasn't a single action he'd taken that he hadn't calculated. There were some days I wondered if he knew I had suffered and simply thought it was going “all according to plan”.

Suddenly my mind snapped to the person called Julia. I wondered who she was, and what part she'd played in his life. Was she an older, forgotten part of his “plan”, or had she been a recent addition?

It was too painful to think of. She'd introduced a lot of doubt into my life.

Add it to the pile
, I thought sadly.

A gurgling noise brought me to attention. Katherine had crawled away and had used the toy box to pull herself into a standing position. She'd done a lot of that lately. The pediatrician had mentioned that her legs were developing well and her muscular strength had increased at a speedy rate in the past few months.

Then she did it, she turned to me, and took three steps toward me. I watched in awe as she steadied herself, smiled, then crashed to her butt on the carpet. She clapped her hands together.

My heart should have swelled. I should have burst into tears of joy and announced it on every social media account I had, but I couldn't fully enjoy it. I was proud of her. I loved that little girl with all my heart, but negativity surrounding Jack seemed to pollute every bit of happiness in my life—even the memory Katherine and I had just created together.

I scooped her into my arms and feathered kisses over her cheeks. “My talented girl,” I whispered. “You walked!” I held her close and buried my face in her downy black curls, closing my eyes and inhaling that fresh powdery scent so particular to babies. “I'm so proud of you. You're the only beautiful thing in my life, my sweet girl … my Katherine.”

After giving her a bath, I laid her down for the night. Lovingly, I watched as she fell sleep. Just as I clicked off the light and stepped into the hall, the front door opened and closed.

“Emily?!” Jack called out.

I peered over the second-floor bannister and into the reception area. “I just put the baby down,” I said quietly.

He came up the stairs and met me on the landing. I noticed he was unseasonably happy.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Let's go into the office and I'll tell you.”

We passed the bedrooms and stepped into his personal study. He closed the double doors behind us. “I had a conference this afternoon with J.B. Stratford,” he said, so excited that his face lit up.

“Who's that?” I asked.

Jack frowned. “Don't you remember me telling you about the mayor's campaign manager?” He shook his head. “Well, anyway, that's him.”

“That's great!” I said with a smile.

“He's agreed to meet with us tomorrow for lunch to talk about possibly picking up my county executive race.”

“Us? Both of us?” I asked, uncertain.

“Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?” Jack asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I just haven't had time to get my nails done this week and my hair is a mess.” I frowned, pawing at the stray locks that had dislodged from behind my ear.

“So get up early and get all that done. We can't have you less than perfect. You're more or less just there to look pretty, after all.” He chuckled.

Though I assumed he'd meant the words flippantly, they'd stabbed me in the heart. I made a quick recovery, and was somehow able to conceal that I'd been wounded. The worst part was that I knew he was partially right. When he told me he wanted to run for office, I'd panicked. At this point it was better if I just smiled and nodded. I knew next to nothing about politics or how people obtained office. The most I knew was how the president was elected, and that was only because of school.