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Betrayed Ch. 01

By: AngelCherysse



She's having an affair. I couldn't ignore it any longer; the evidence was right there on my monitor that Wednesday afternoon. I had felt so... tawdry – a word I had thought I would never use – hiring the detective to follow her, follow up on my suspicions. It was as though I was betraying her, betraying the trust, the faith I had had in her during our eight-year relationship, the last three as husband and wife. As the DVD played out on my computer screen, played out the scenes I had dreaded, I knew my faith and trust had been misplaced.

Susan and I had been high school sweethearts; the convivial, popular cheerleader and her intense, intellectual, fiercely-competitive Cross-Country star. She had broken up with Jeff Spencer shortly before we became an 'item'. No one exactly accused the supernaturally-attractive emerald-eyed Redhead of 'trading down'. In a culture that demanded performance, the football team was mired somewhere in the middle of the conference standings. Jeff, a bona fide heartthrob, had been a talented-enough quarterback. Yet he, more than any other person, was the focal point of the team's lackluster performance. Rightly or wrongly, he carried the stigma of an also-ran. Meanwhile, my team's 'Long Green Line' held back-to-back-to-back State championships and I was the undisputed fastest in State history. Still, they clucked, she had given up a hunk of U.S. Prime for a runner.... 

"Screw that," she had cooed dismissively. "I love a winner. You are going places and I want to go there with you."

We had attended the same college, lived together our senior year, then raced to the altar after graduation. We each strove to attain the promise of 'going places' in our respective careers. She was a rising star in Marketing and Public Relations, while I was on my way to having my own seat on the Mercantile Exchange. I ran five miles every morning before work. Susan worked out regularly at her health club. We maintained our peak physical tone for ourselves and each other, just as we had when we first met. Throughout, our sex had been magic. I was the tender, caring lover she had always dreamed of, the one who pushed all her buttons the way she liked them pushed, the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

"And you are the prettiest boy I have ever seen," she had added. "That's a big plus."

I wasn't certain how much of a 'plus' that was, but I appreciated the compliment. We had the idyllic life – or so I thought.

Susan worked in the Publicity Department of the local professional football franchise. She had a plumb position as an assistant director for the team's promotions. Guess who was now the rising star in the team's quarterback corps? You got it! After high school, Jeff had landed a scholarship with a Division 1-A school that had a real program. He had been all-NCAA, a runner-up in the Heisman balloting, Most Valuable Player in two bowl games and a first-round draft pick. I had had qualms about Susan and Jeff being thrown together again, but dismissed them as silly male insecurity. After all, that had been high school....

The increasingly-frequent, increasingly-lengthy absences had alerted me something hade changed in our relationship. When asked, she put it off on the demands of her career. It was the eye contact, or lack of it, that fueled my suspicions. She was loving enough when we were together, but I sensed an air of distance that hadn't been there before. Something had insinuated itself into our lives, separating us, and I had determined to find out what.

That amorphous 'what' was now playing out before me. They were together again, captured on disk by the most remarkable bit of electronic surveillance I could possibly imagine. In high school, Jeff Spencer's masculine physique had made him the object of female desire and male envy. Now, he was even more impressive: about six-foot-four to my five-eight, and outweighing me by at least sixty pounds of rock-hard muscle. 

Jeff was not making love to my wife. He was fucking her, banging her mercilessly like a piece of meat with his thick, ten-inch tool. I could almost smell the rut of their sex as I watched the video. There was little doubt Susan was loving every pummeling thrust. I could actually see her eyes roll up into her head as she came, see her body convulse, see her throat vibrate as she screamed. 

Mind you, I was really, really good at making my wife cum. I could tease her, inflame her, infuriate her for hours with my tongue and fingertips alone, until she was begging me for release. When I finally pushed her over the edge, she gripped my hair tightly, thrust my face deeply into her pussy, and shuddered through her orgasm for a long, long time. Still, any man knew this was different. I felt intimidated, angry, betrayed. More than anything else, I felt a sense of loss.

The detective had been exceedingly thorough; worth every penny. Once he had identified the offending third party, the surveillance had extended beyond the affair with my wife, tracking Jeff's habits as well. That investigation had paid off spectacularly. I shook my head in utter disbelief as I observed Jeff's extracurricular activities when he wasn't shagging my wanton wife. To put it mildly, he was no more faithful to her than she was to me. 

The thought of violence came to mind and just as quickly departed. I didn't hold any illusions about being able to pull off the 'perfect crime'. Any temporary satisfaction such extreme measures might render would be nullified by a lifetime spent in prison. Jeff's philandering had revealed a vulnerability that could conceivably be exploited to my advantage. It would take time to formulate an appropriate plan. For now, the two cheaters deserved each other. 

The lurid scenes of that follow-up surveillance sparked something else in me; a fascination for a world I had only heard about in vague, titillating references. It had existed around me since we moved to the city, yet I had never given it a second thought. Now, faced with it on the screen before me, I felt compelled to seek this world out. If I was going to have my vengeance on the pair, I reasoned, this was the place to start. Besides, what did I have left to lose?

***

My first visit to Ringers was a real head trip. It was Friday night, two days after my idyllic world had collapsed in ruin. I had had zero experience with female impersonators in my life. Now, within the tastefully-decorated confines of the city's most famous – notorious – F.I. "show lounge", I was surrounded by them. The first thing I learned was, these 'girls' are good at what they do. Granted, most of the performers lip-sync to Pop divas' recordings rather than sing. Still, the visual presentations are stunning. As far as the 'impersonation' aspect goes, many genetic females would be green with envy over these faux-femme fatales.

I spotted the girl right away, remembering her from the surveillance disk. It was as though Raquel Welsh had cloned herself. Now, that delectable doppelganger was perched on a high-backed stool at the bar, one stocking-clad leg crossed alluringly over the other, gazing out over the crowd with casual insouciance. I had difficulty picturing her with 'something extra' nestled between those alluring thighs. We struck up a casual conversation. Her name was Dianna. Absent the heels, I judged her to be about my own height. I was more than a little nervous. The gorgeous brunette smiled seductively and agreed to share a drink with me; the first of several. She was surprisingly approachable. Over the course of the evening, I found out why. 

Through my new acquaintance, I learned two more things about the scene. First, the term 'female impersonator' is woefully out of date. Most of these girls have long since crossed the line between impersonation and transformation and have no intention of crossing back. Dianna was a stunning example of that. Second, I confirmed that many of these girls made at least a marginal living via the oldest profession – mostly because no legitimate employer will hire them to do anything more meaningful. 

After several more drinks, we adjourned to 'someplace more private' to continue our conversation. Yes, money changed hands; she was good to give me her time and I wanted to make it worth her while. When she saw the amount I offered, she smiled bemusedly and declared she was mine for the evening. All I wanted was conversation. It wasn't going to be about sex. I was just gathering information.

She viewed with disdain the picture I had produced from my pocket. 

"Oh, him," she sniffed. "Yeah, I know that freak. He has dated me a few times – among other girls at the club. At least he's got the goods – and knows how to use it."

"Freak?" I inquired tentatively.

I instinctively feared for Susan's well-being, in spite of my anger at what she had done.

"Baby, they're all freaks," Dianna maintained. "Fine, upstanding, solid citizens, pillars of the community – until nobody is watching. They love to get down 'n dirty like everyone else, more than most. They're really into girls like me, too, but don't want anyone in their 'straight' world to know. As far as I know, he hasn't taken it up his punk ass yet, but he loves to do mine – and take it down the pipe."

That was more information than I wanted. It wasn't that much of a stretch to envision my beautiful companion in the arms of an admitted stud like Jeff Spencer. It was a stretch to picture the "man's man" sucking cock. 'Freak' seemed to be an apt description. Perhaps it was the liquid courage that was clouding my judgment. I found myself more and more attracted to this sensual siren with each passing moment. Still, her candor was... unsettling. For all her obvious allure, I was hung up on the secret lurking beneath. I desired and feared her at the same time. What did that say about me? Whatever I might have felt about what she was, I began to have misgivings about myself.

"I'm here," I pointed out. "Does that make me a freak, too?"

My beautiful companion cocked one eyebrow and smiled with amusement.

"Like you said," she replied, "you're here - aren't you?"

With that, she repositioned herself in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. If I could have seen the pores in her flawless complexion, I could have counted them. I could smell her cinnamon-tinged breath and the heady aroma of her perfume. Her prominent cleavage looked done rather than fake. I wanted to hide my erection, keep her from finding out how much she was turning me on. She knew better, and smiled triumphantly.

"You tell me, Sugar," she purred. "Aren't you feeling just a little bit freaky? Before you try to deny it, your friend is telling me yes."

She ground her bottom into my lap to confirm her point.

The girl's body was lushly proportioned, to be sure, but she wasn't all that heavy. Why was I out of breath? Why was my heart pounding? She took my confused silence as a tacit admission.

"That's what I thought," she continued. "Why don't we get more... comfortable? I mean, you've already paid for the time."

The intoxicating vixen removed her hands from my neck and began unbuttoning my shirt. I willed my hands to seize hers, stop her from doing what she was doing, what she was going to do. My hands refused to move. I was caught in the gaze of her big chocolate-brown eyes like a deer in headlights.

I don't remember undressing her, nor moving with her to the bed. I remember lying on my back with her astride me, feeding me a mouthful of tit. I had always thought Susan's C-cups were the best of the best. Dianna's were bigger, fuller, firmer – and demanded my attention.

That wasn't all that demanded my attention. I could feel her down there, feel something big where it had no business being. It snaked its way around my crotch, rubbing up against my own rock-hard dick. I tried to put it out of my mind, concentrate on her magnificent titties, but couldn't.

"You like that, don't you, Baby?" she trilled, "me rubbing against you like that, all up in your business. Your white-bread wife can't give you that; no GG can. I've got what you need, what you really want."

I didn't want this! I just wanted to know what a man like Jeff Spencer saw in her, why he would even cheat on a prize like Susan for someone like this. Instead, I was in bed with this, this... ho', trapped beneath her, sucking her tits like there was no tomorrow, feeling her fuckpole rubbing up against my abdomen. The really insane thing was, my cock was bigger and harder than it had ever been before in my life! What on earth was it thinking?

Then, she started in on me with her hand. The sensation of her long fingernails gently scraping the flesh of my inner thigh was exquisite torture. Before long, those fingers were finding their way higher, gently caressing my rigid fuckstick. Ohmygod, what a sensation! Dianna softly encircled my joypole and began to stroke it. I was going out of my mind with frenzied desire.

The talented T-girl had two hands. While her right hand worked my cock, her left hand found my right and slowly, firmly moved it into position on her rock-hard rod. No! No, no, no, no, absolutely NOT! I am not Gay! I do not want a man! I don't... I don't...don't...Jeezus, this is so hot!

It was almost a relief when she slid down my body and slipped my bone into her mouth. It was just 'normal' sex again, unburdened by thoughts of my partner's meaty surprise. Now I knew what it was like to be ministered to by truly talented lips and tongue! My hands went to her head unbidden. I just held them there, not attempting to force her face down on me. It seemed like... the right thing to do, one more connection between us. Connection? What was I saying?

That 'connection' was not long in coming. My fellatrix abruptly pivoted on my pole, straddling my head with her firm thighs. Suddenly, her more-than-formidable sex was inches from my face. By that time, I was on sensory overload. I just stared in awe as her meat dangled in my vision. Then, she lowered herself to me. I vowed I wasn't going to do it; I wasn't that way. I tried to resist, to keep my mouth shut. The attention she was giving my dong had my heart pounding and my lungs heaving. Her firm thighs gripped my head, smothering my nose. I held out as long as I could, but finally had to open my mouth to breathe....

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmyg...umpf! I shuddered involuntarily as my mouth was invaded. If I hadn't been a little drunk, I might have spat it out altogether – or worse. She didn't force herself on me. Rather, she dipped it in just a little, enough to insert the helmet. My tongue touched it and recoiled. It was such a revolting, unnatural feeling. My mind raced. Unnatural? Was it any more natural for Susan when she had blown me? Was it more natural for Dianna, who was even then giving me a world-class blowjob? Being here with her, this way, it was becoming more and more difficult to think of her as anything but the beautiful woman she appeared. If I had no problem eating out my wife, could I reject a woman as attractive as Dianna just because she had an 'outie' instead of an 'innie'? 

I tickled it just a little with my tongue. I felt the tremor course through her body and was encouraged by it. I softly lathed the underside of the glans with the tip, then swirled my tongue around and around. She responded by pulling it out a little, then pushed it in a little deeper. She repeated this again and again, until the tip tickled my throat. I gagged involuntarily. She pulled back a bit and paused, then eased forward again. I coughed a little, but it wasn't as much a shock this time. Sensing this, the comely courtesan lifted her own mouth off my joyrod for a moment.

"Open your throat, Sugar," she cooed encouragingly. "Breathe through your nose. Don't fight it. Just let it happen. You know you want it."

I struggled with myself, attempting to remind myself, convince myself I did not want it. Yet I did nothing to discourage her oral assault. No one was more surprised than I when I realized my nose was being tickled by her neatly-trimmed pubic hair. A bizarre memory popped into my head; a flashback to my younger days of avid television watching.

I can't believe I ate the whoooooooole thing.

I was in no position to see Dianna's face. I sensed her smile. Perhaps it was just the way her mouth moved around my cock that made me think it.

The tidal wave of sensations and emotions was just too much to resist. I was caught up, overwhelmed, swept away in the powerful rush. My vision blurred. My back arched off the mattress. Blood pounded in my temples. I heard nothing beyond the intense roaring in my ears. My body spasmed as every neural synapse seemed to fire at once. I came in quarts, gallons, oceans – at least, it felt that way.

After a time, the ripples of passion faded. I felt weak as a kitten. Dianna withdrew herself at both ends, turned around, and lay down atop me. She kissed me deeply, something she had not done up to that time. As soon as I opened my mouth to receive her probing tongue, I knew I was in deep, deep trouble. She hadn't swallowed! Now, she was pushing the remnants of my own explosion into my mouth with her forceful tongue. I struggled ineffectually beneath her, drained of strength from my previous exertions. In the end, she had her way with me yet again. I swallowed my own spunk, eyes closed, yet mind wide open to the enormity of what I had done.

I rolled over on my stomach in shame. I had cum in buckets, but hadn't gotten Dianna off. Once again, I hadn't been able to satisfy my lover. I couldn't look her in the eye, afraid of seeing myself, my failure, reflected there. She stretched out on top, placing her hands over mine. Her cock was just as stiff as it had been inside my mouth, a constant reminder of my inadequacy. It nestled in the cleft between my firm asscheeks. Then, she shifted slightly – and it moved....

"No, no," I cried out weakly.

She controlled me easily, holding my wrists tightly, spreading my legs with her thighs.

"Shhhhh," Dianna whispered in my ear. "It's okay, Baby Girl. I know you're scared. The first time is always the hardest. I'll be gentle with you; I promise. Mama knows what you need. Mama knows best."

A real man would have resisted. A real man would have bounced her off the opposite wall, stomped on her head, then walked out in a huff. Then again, a real man wouldn't have been in bed with a shemale hooker while his wife was being fucked stupid by an ex-boyfriend from fucking high school.

I felt the finger first, coated with cold, slippery goo, making my insides nice and slick. I shivered a little; from that, and anticipation of what was to come. The finger was withdrawn. Then, a much larger presence made itself known against my puckered hole.

"Are you ready, Sugar?" she purred. "Here we go."

She was gentle with me, just as she had been with my mouth. I felt her push forward a little, pause, pull back, then push forward yet again. Even as I tried to relax my body, it felt like her helmet was going to split me in two. I moaned piteously, just as any virgin does at the moment she gives up her cherry. The deeper my lover entered me, the more intense the pain became. As bad as that pain was, it was the shock, surprise, awe of being taken that way that dominated my thoughts.

In time, she squeezed all of herself into me. I felt ripped apart. The tempo and intensity of her thrusts increased slowly, until she was pounding into me. Her balls slapped against my crotch. She dug her talons into my shoulders, yanking my body towards her in time with her thrusts. My shame welled up inside me: shame for not being man enough to satisfy my wife, shame for being cuckolded behind my back, shame for not standing up for what was mine, shame for being seduced, then taken so easily, so forcefully, by a shemale hooker. That shame boiled over, exploding within my mind in a blinding flash. I screamed – not to stop, but to fuck me harder. When she came, she flooded my insides with an intensity I imagined to be equal to my own. The shock of such a deed pushed me over the edge once more, this time without touching my own member.


Betrayed Ch. 01



I was completely spent, physically and emotionally. My humiliation knew no limits. What had Susan called me? The prettiest boy she had ever met. Obviously, a 'pretty boy' had no chance against a stud like Jeff Spencer in her eyes. Just as obviously, the beautiful boy-girl atop me felt the same way; she had just made me her punk bitch. Self-esteem? What's that? I threw on my pants, fumbling frantically with the zipper and belt, then swept up my other clothes in my arms and fled for the door. I heard Dianna call out good-naturedly behind me as the door closed.

"See you again soon... Freak."

I didn't go home. I couldn't; not now, not ever again, not to live, anyway. I certainly wasn't ready to face Susan, assuming she was even home. I got a hotel room that night, took a long, hot, thorough shower, turned off my cell phone, then crawled between the sheets. I slept, but in a tortured turmoil commensurate with my waking experience.

***

It was the Week from Hell. Granted, it had actually begun when I fled Dianna's apartment Friday night and extended through that long, lost weekend. On Monday morning, I called the office and took personal time. Later, when I was certain Susan would not be home, I returned to our Printer's Row loft and removed my clothes and personal items. The building was going condo; thank God I hadn't signed the conversion contract yet. I gazed around what had been our – my – happy home one last time, recalling memories of much better times. Then, I walked out the door. It closed behind me with a resounding click of finality.

I filed the separation papers first thing, citing "Open and Notorious Adultery". After viewing the DVD, my attorney assured me my case was a slam-dunk. Divorcing her financially was almost as easy, owing to some simple precautions I had taken along the way; separate accounts, asset protection, offshore holdings. With her own income, plus the assets of her millionaire boyfriend, she would have no need to come after my assets, much less legal standing to do so. My attorney had quipped all Susan would be able to do was bend over and spread her cheeks, something that didn't appear to be a problem for her. I inwardly shuddered at the reference. He promised to file the papers with the court clerk immediately and see to it they were served the next morning.

My cell phone began ringing around lunchtime Tuesday. Funny she hadn't bothered to call all weekend or Monday to see if I was all right. I guess she hadn't noticed I hadn't come home. Caller ID told the tale. I summarily rejected Susan's calls and instructed our office's receptionist not to put her through if she called there. My estranged mate switched tactics, and the cell's display came up "Private Caller". I wasn't about to be that easily fooled again, and let the calls go to Voicemail. 

On Tuesday afternoon I signed the lease-with-option on a nice two-bedroom in Streeterville, across the street from North Pier. It had a breathtaking view of Ogden Slip and the lake beyond. I liked boats and had always enjoyed watching all the pleasure craft tie up at the berths in the slip while their owners dined at the adjacent eateries. I was looking forward to the coming summer. It was nice to have something to look forward to again.

The next three days were filled with the loosely-organized feeding frenzy that is commodities trading. After work, there was the camaraderie of fellow traders and co-workers. The office grapevine had pronounced something was up between me and my wife and everyone avoided the subject. The condo was sumptuous, made more so by the furnishings I equipped it with. The neighborhood was young, gentrified, and hip. The evening crowds below hustled to and from the surrounding restaurants, clubs, and shops. 

Every night since the previous Friday had been long, lonely, and tortured. I couldn't not dream about Sex. It had dominated my waking thoughts, my life, for a week. In my dreams, I was walking naked down the middle of North Michigan Avenue. The street was lined with people: my wife and her lover, my friends, co-workers, complete strangers. Sex was going on all around me and I was powerless to affect its course or outcome. Everyone mocked me openly. 

Through it all, I was aware of one particular pair of eyes watching me intently, bemusedly, as though I was some form of entertainment – or a personal plaything. It embarrassed, humiliated me to know those eyes watched my every move. I hated them, feared them, yet desired them. I never wanted to see them again, yet couldn't bear to be without them.

Those eyes were brown, not green.

The call came Friday afternoon.

"How long were you planning to hold out?" Dianna inquired nonchalantly.

"Bitch," I growled.

"Always," she deflected gracefully. 

"Did you call to rub my nose in it – again?" I asked pointedly.

"Don't take me there, Lover," she snipped abruptly. "You could have left at any time. You didn't. Don't even try to tell me I made you do anything you weren't willing to do."

She paused a moment, as if re-considering her words.

"Actually," she continued in a much more conciliatory tone, "I may have sent you off on the wrong note the other night. I meet so many fr... I mean, I have a bad habit of treating all men the way I have been treated. You didn't deserve that. You were nothing but nice to me, a real gentleman. The fact you didn't leave makes me think I made an impression on you, too. Am I right?"

There was so much I wanted to say, how she had dominated my thoughts and dreams for the past week. I couldn't even put it into words.

"Well, at least you're not denying it," the bewitching brunette summarized. "For what it's worth, you are the most attractive lover I have had in a long time. I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I have been thinking about you all week. I was wondering; would you be willing to... let me make it up to you? On the house?"

I couldn't believe it. Dianna probably had sex with a dozen men or more a week. Yet, she was thinking about me? She wanted to see me on a personal basis? I may not have been the most perceptive man on the planet, but I sensed her offhand reference to it being a 'freebie' was as much to mollify her own doubts as mine. For all my earlier ambivalence, I realized I had been obsessing over her, too. I couldn't make the arrangements fast enough.

I was extremely agitated on the drive to her place in Lakeview. The traffic on Lake Shore Drive was so slow. If that wasn't bad enough, parking was impossible in her neighborhood. She buzzed me in and was waiting at her door when I reached the top of the stairs. She wore only garter belt, stockings, stiletto sandals, and a floor-length sheer black peignoir. She was exquisite, head to toe. Her eyes danced and she flashed an alluring smile.

"Hi again, Sugar," she purred. "Welcome b..." 

I cut her off with a straight arm to her chest. My momentum carried her backwards, across the tiny studio apartment. To her credit, she kept her balance beautifully in those skyscraper stilts, right up to the moment she fell backwards onto the bed. I was on her in a flash, then had her cock in my mouth a moment later. I teased, tormented, tortured her with my lips and tongue for over an hour, bringing her to the edge, then backing off, only to bring her close again. Finally, I allowed her to shoot her load down my throat. By that time, she was screaming, thrashing wildly, and pummeling my shoulders with her fists. It was something like ten minutes before she was able to take a deep breath and speak.

"Well," she exclaimed, staring at the ceiling. "So much for idle chit-chat. Does this mean all is forgiven?"

"Do you have plans for the rest of the weekend?" I countered.

"I guess I do now," she chirped. "I was going to work. A girl's gotta pay rent, you know."

"Don't worry about that," I returned. "I'm good for it."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" she asked cautiously.

"Let's work on it and see what happens," I replied.

She raised one eyebrow in that manner I found so attractive. Then, she began massaging my engorged, aching cock.

"Work on it, huh?" she teased. "Oh yeah, Honey; I'll 'work on it'. Tit for tat – so to speak."



Betrayed Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Shop 'Til You Pop

The sex was torrid and went all night. I worshipped every inch of her magnificent body with my lips, tongue, fingertips. She did the same to me. I took her from behind, entered her doggy-style. I fucked her pussy with long, languid strokes even as I was stroking her meaty clitty with one hand. I willed her to cum, dared her not to, challenged her to hold out against the sensual assault that always drove Susan crazy. Dianna did cum; loudly, passionately, and more than once.

Throughout the night, she teased, taunted, tempted my puckered hole with her fingertip, searching for an opening in more than the physical sense. My mind had struggled with exactly that the past seven days. Why had I allowed it to happen the first time? My shame and humiliation came back to me, reminding me. I was a cuckold, it said. After last weekend, I was also a sissy; Dianna's punk bitch. True, I had been a little drunk then and hadn't seen it coming. Now that she was making the overture once again, when I was in complete control of my senses and no longer taken by surprise, what would I do? 

Complete control? What a joke! For more than a week, I had been presented with evidence heaped upon evidence that my personal life was completely out of my control. Cuckold. Sissy. Punk Bitch. Okay, Lance; get a grip. A commodities trader deals in options every day. What were my options? I could continue to fight; that was the American Way. I could persist in my scorched-earth campaign of spite, malice, and revenge. Susan certainly deserved that for what she did – but did I? Was I ready to allow my thirst for vengeance to consume me, even as I sought to devour her? I could just walk away from everything in my personal life and start over; flip that old Etch-a-Sketch over, give it a shake, and Presto! Start with a clean slate. I had my career, a spectacular income, a new home, a future. What did that future contain?

Again and again, my thoughts returned to Dianna. She was more woman than I had ever known before in my life. A lot more than ANY woman, Buddy; think about it.... I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind all week. I certainly couldn't now, with her body pressed intimately against mine. It felt good. It felt right. Being with her presented a tantalizing third option: what if I neither fought, nor ran? What if I just... gave in? She had certainly indicated she wanted me that way. Hadn't I cum in buckets that first time? Hadn't she? Had not my surrender to her been the most intense personal and emotional connection I had had with any human in my entire life? Where was the harm in just letting go, and seeing where the current took me? Cuckold. Sissy. Punk Bitch. Those were just words....

I responded to my own soul-searching by spreading my legs just a bit. Dianna took that cue, then took me. 

We watched the sun come up over the lake, then slept like the dead until noon. It felt good to shower with someone again. It felt better to have sex in the shower. We reprised our reciprocal roles; she took my meat, then I took hers. Being with her this way, I didn't feel the guilt or shame of becoming a 'switch-hitter' I would have felt – had felt - even a week before.

As we were toweling each other dry, she kissed me tenderly on the lips. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Lover," she purred sweetly. "I generally don't do holidays because I don't have anyone really special to do them with. Thank you for making this the most special day I have had in a long time."

Damn! With all I had had swimming around in my head in the past week, I had completely forgotten what day this was. I didn't even have a card for her. The thought just suddenly popped into my mind. I somehow knew she would ask the question and wanted to be prepared for it when she did. I dashed into the bedroom, grabbed my cell phone, dialed the number I knew by heart, and started pulling strings....

Dianna followed me into the bedroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her lush physique. She embraced me and kissed me warmly. Then, she gazed into my eyes with a twinkle in hers.

"So," she began teasingly, "what's next? I mean, what do you do for an encore after this?"

"Gee, I dunno," I teased back. "I mean, what can I do to keep a gorgeous woman like you coming back? I had given a thought to taking you out for dinner tonight; someplace really nice. I don't know what you have in your closet, so I suppose I'll just have to take you shopping."

Her eyes lit up like klieg lights at a Hollywood premier. She hugged me so hard, I thought she would crush my ribcage.

"Oh, Baby," she breathed lustily in my ear. "You know how to push all a girl's buttons. Let's go get dressed."

Our first task was to retrieve my clothes from wherever they had landed in Dianna's frenzy to disrobe me the night before. A problem became immediately apparent as my enchantress gingerly held up my briefs - or what was left of them - between her thumb and forefinger. They were still drenched with pre-cum from the long anticipatory drive from the office. Then, in the heat of passion, she had literally ripped them from my body. She silently arched one eyebrow quizzically and smiled bemusedly. I returned the smile and shrugged my shoulders just a little. She laughed.

"I guess I'll just have to do without," I observed.

She pressed her body against mine and gently massaged my cock with one hand.

"While it would be hot to have you so... accessible inside your pants," she cooed, "I think we will try for something a bit more modest for now. If you oozed that much last night, before you even got here, you would ruin that beautiful suit today. I promise you that."

She went to her dresser drawer, rummaged around for a moment, then returned.

"These will do the trick," she chirped with a grin.

I beheld the pink satin bikini panties with ruffled lace trim which she held against my crotch with two fingers from each hand. My mind swam in a confused tangle of thoughts.

"That's modest?" was all I could think to say. The look in her eyes was pure seduction.

"You like the way I look in my panties, don't you?" she asked in a tone of faux innocence.

I could hardly deny it.

"Well, being with you all day, thinking of you in a pair of my panties while we shop, will drive me to distraction. That's really hot, Sugar. Do it just for me... please?"

Just give in, and see where the current takes me.... 

She helped me into the panties, sliding them up my toned, hairless legs, and nestling them snugly around my hips. Gazing directly into my eyes, she reached her hand into the panties, cupped my manhood, and tucked it down and back between my thighs.

"Now that I think of it," she postulated, "we are probably going to need a little extra protection. Wait here."

She glided into the bathroom and returned a moment later with several folds of toilet tissue in her hand. She reached inside my panties and positioned the tissue under my cockhead.

"There, that's much better," she mused. "We girls always do that to protect ourselves from leaks."

Removing her hand, she cupped my pantied crotch from the outside and massaged it gently.

"I have a hunch you are going to be leaking heavily today, Sweetie," she whispered in my ear. "At least, you will if I have anything to say about it."

Next, she had me help her into a heavily-boned, lace-up black satin corset.

"If you are taking me someplace special," she purred, "I want to make sure I look special. Corseting is so sexy, I just can't help but feel like the most beautiful woman in the world."

I couldn't imagine her looking or feeling like anything but. After she showed me how to fasten the front busk for her, she placed both palms against the wall, leaned into it, and taught me how to pull the laces a little at a time from the top and bottom, working towards the middle. After some effort on my part, I had the garment laced as tightly as it would go, then tied the laces off and tucked them in the way Dianna instructed. 

My companion displayed the most gorgeous hand-span waist I could imagine. Her full, firm breasts stood out prominently. Her hips and tush were spread out even more provocatively than before. She made the picture even more erotic by rolling a pair of suntan stockings up her shapely legs and attaching them to the corset's garters. She made a show of donning a semi-sheer black chiffon blouse, waist-length, snug-fitting lavender suede motorcycle-style jacket and micro-miniskirt, and matching open-toed, lavender suede platform mules. The high stiletto heels arched her legs and caused her to thrust out her tush and braless breasts alluringly. The jacket was left unzipped, yielding a tantalizing glimpse of her prodigious charms. She made up her face accordingly; a bit heavier than I normally associated with daywear, but attractively so and totally in keeping with the personality of this exciting woman. She rummaged around in her closet for a few moments, returning with a matching lavender suede clutch purse and an oversized black leather Capezio bag. 

"Two purses?" I questioned.

She gave me a quick buss on the lips.

"You're taking me shopping for a dress for tonight, aren't you?" she inquired bemusedly. "What do you intend for me to do with what I'm wearing now; throw it out? Forget that, Lover; I adore this outfit. Plus, I think it looks really sexy on me. Don't you agree?"

At least one part of my anatomy certainly did. She pressed her body against mine, cupping my angry manhood with one hand. Her silent, knowing smile spoke volumes. I had to get us out of here before hormones took over and we had to start from scratch. Makeup essentials and her identification went into the clutch; her bulky wallet and keys went into the bag. Then, she flashed me a dazzling smile.

"All set," she chirped. "Let's go. I can't wait."

I'm sure for Dianna, a hot day of shopping meant visiting the little shops along Clark Street or maybe Century Mall. Her eyes glazed over as we pulled into the underground lot at Water Tower Place. She affirmed she had been there before, adored its atrium design, brass and marble ambience, glass elevators, and seven levels of snob-appeal department stores and specialty shops, but had never been able to afford much more than looking. I avowed we would do a whole lot more than that before the afternoon was over. My black Yves St. Laurent trenchcoat was stored safely away in the trunk; I wouldn't need it until we returned. I took my companion's arm in mine and steered her towards the elevator alcove.

Lingerie shopping came first. While Dianna alone might have drawn the interest of the sales staff, Dianna in the company of a man wearing a designer suit and tie drew them like flies to honey. My lover allowed the associates to steer us to the appropriate displays and locate her preferred styles, sizes and colors. She demurred on their offers of assistance in the dressing room, avowing her boyfriend was all the help she needed. Before I could utter a word, she scooped up garments in one hand, my wrist in the other, and headed for the changing room. 

When she said I would be all the help she needed, it was no idle boast. I was fastening hooks and adjusting straps the entire time. Each time she tried on a different set, she admired it in the mirror and asked what I thought. What could I say? She made everything look good. I had originally anticipated finding something just for that evening, but she found matching three-piece sets – bra, panties, and garter belt - in Winter White, Navy, Emerald, Hot Pink, Lilac, Crimson, and Black. She liked them all so much and they looked so good on her, how could I make her choose just one?

Of course, my decision was heavily influenced by Dianna rubbing my crotch suggestively each time she asked my opinion. The sensation of her ministrations on my satin-and-lace-encased manhood was indescribable. My cock was so hard, and stayed that way.

"You know," she cooed, "you seem to like me in this corset so much, I just might have to wear it more often. That, and all those garter belts, means, I will also need..."

"More stockings?" I inquired, smiling. "I think I can arrange that."

I slipped out of the changing room and located the associate we had been working with. After a brief interval, I returned to my girlfriend with two dozen pair of assorted ultra-sheer hosiery. By the time we returned to the check-out stand, Dianna was wearing a lilac lace underwired push-up bra, matching bikinis, and Jet Black seamed stockings with French heels under her outfit. I was sporting a raging hard-on inside my satin panties.

"I'm in a 'red' mood today," she whispered in my ear. "I feel really hot when I'm with you. Let's find something to match; something scorching."

It took another hour and visits to several high-end retailers to find the right dress. There were several she liked or I liked. We finally found one we both liked. It was a dazzling red sequined sleeveless sheath with a halter neck. The deeply-plunging sweetheart bodice revealed a breathtaking amount of cleavage. The scooped back just hid the upper edge of her corset. The hem hugged her thighs tightly, just covering the tops of her stockings. Dear God, it was exquisite on her! 

We spotted the display in the window of a jewelry store. It was a set; diamond-and-ruby pendant earrings, multi-tiered necklace and multi-strand bracelet. I looked at her; she, at me. Our shared smile told the tale. It was my turn to grab her wrist and whisk her inside. The gems were perfect, exquisite on her. The associate, perceiving a ripe opportunity, withdrew another box from a drawer beneath the display case and opened it. Within lay a single-strand diamond-and-ruby bracelet that obviously was meant to complete the set.

Dianna stared at it quizzically for a moment, then at her other, un-adorned wrist. I knew immediately what the second span had been intended for.

"May I?" I inquired of the associate.

"Please," he consented, beaming his delight.

I lifted the delicate strand with both hands, knelt before Dianna's feet, encircled her trim left ankle and deftly clasped the clasp. She trembled slightly at the intimacy.

"Oh, Lance," she gushed, "it's perfect – just perfect."

The platinum card was out in a flash and the beaming associate began tallying the sale. The smile on Dianna's face froze as she watched the figures add up on the invoice. She grabbed me by my lapels and pulled me aside.

"They're... real?" she whispered hoarsely. "We can't... I couldn't...."

"So... what," I responded earnestly, "this whole, magical experience should be fake, just like my sham of a marriage? Dianna, we are going to do this; if not for you, for me. I'm not expecting you to commit to me for a lifetime. This whole weekend, starting from when I walked through your door last night, is shaping up to be exactly that; Magic. When it's over, I want to be able to look back and say: 'This was real.'"

"But Baby," she protested, "I'm not real. You don't know anything about me...."

I shushed her with a fingertip to her plush, inviting lips.

"Eyes of the beholder, Baby Girl," I responded softly. "You're real to me. This moment in time, if only a moment, is real. Let's enjoy it together and let tomorrow take care of itself."

Her second assault on my ribcage was more impassioned than the first. Still, she took great care in folding the receipt and insisted it went safely into my wallet.

The shoes happened by pure serendipity. We were on our way to Mrs. Field's to buy some Nibblers to tide us over until dinner and saw the exquisite sandals in the window of a specialty shoe store. They were nothing more than thin soles and series of narrow, red sequined straps, revealing rather than concealing the foot and wrapping, then buckling around the ankle. All of it was perched on pencil-thin five-and-one-half-inch stiletto heels. Dianna almost ripped my arm out of its socket dragging me into the shop. There was no question these were the right shoes for the dress, or that they were ideally suited for Dianna's mesmerizing strut.

My companion was no slouch when it came to makeup. In fact, she could have gotten a job in Hollywood anytime she chose. Still, this was an afternoon of pampering, so I had made an appointment for her at the salon next door in the Ritz Carlton to do her hair, makeup and nails for her. She was fussy about the right 'look' and insisted on changing into the dress and heels to achieve the right effect. In honor of the occasion and my all-too-willing assent, she had the nail technician do a full set in an ultra-glamour length, ruby-red with gold nail art, and gently curving downward. Her toenails were done to match. Her street clothes had gone into her shoulder bag. The jewelry went on, along with a few spritzes of perfume, and she was done! My already-stunning escort had become an otherworldly blend of elegance, glamour, and pure carnal desire. 

The bewitching brunette insisted on a final 'walk-through' of the mall – specifically, to show off. We used the enclosed skywalk to return to the mall, which turned out to be a Godsend. Winter still held its grip on the Windy City; snow was whipping sideways on the side streets that intersected Michigan Avenue, as it so often did. I strode determinedly into the mall, my gorgeous companion in tow, and headed for one final, impromptu stop.

Don't ever let anyone tell you differently; Silver Fox is stunning on an attractive brunette. The instant the associate held up the coat, Dianna began trembling like a leaf in a Nor'easter. She didn't slip into it so much as the coat enveloped her in its comforting warmth, all the way to her trim ankles. The glazed look in her eyes was better than Sex; it lasted longer. She looked down and around, trying to take it all in. When she lifted the right sleeve, she noted the attached tag and read it. I steadied her as she shook uncontrollably.

"Baby, you could by a car for this!" she protested.

"Don't be silly," I quipped. "What would a coat do with a car?"

She punched my shoulder for that.

"Besides," I continued, "I already have a car. You don't have one of these. At least, you didn't until now."

Full-length couturier Silver Fox coat: if you have to ask, you can't afford it. Look of utter adoration on the face of the recipient: priceless.

Dianna was torn; whether to wear the coat or drape it over her arm for our final walk-through. Sheer wretched excess won out. She left it on, open, and draping slightly off her shoulders to allow a mostly-unhindered view of what was underneath. Imagine the absolute silence of an empty shopping mall in the dead of night. Now, picture that same silence on an early Saturday evening, in the midst of seven hundred gawking shoppers on multiple levels of an atrium, gaping unabashedly at the vision on your arm. Okay, it wasn't absolute silence. One could plainly hear the unmistakable click-click-click of Dianna's heels echoing through the atrium and an occasional wolf whistle. I can only imagine the exhilaration she felt at that moment.

There was a polished marble bench against the wall, near the alcove leading to the public restrooms. My delectable companion placed one taloned hand on my chest and thrust me back against the wall, right next to the bench. She spread her fur coat, lifted one sandal-clad foot and rested it lightly on the bench. She took my right hand in her left and guided it to her panty-clad snatch. In the meantime, she used her right hand to massage my own rock-hard, panty-clad bone. She leaned forward, placing her lips right next to my ear.




Betrayed Ch. 02



Rob and I couldn't stop laughing as we ran across the car park of my Father's church, just getting revenge for years of humiliation gave me a feeling of elation. Rob drove me back to my unit and I invited him in. "I wish that I could have seen the look on his face when he realised what was happening. My only concern is for my Mum, she will be the one that he will take his revenge on because she's there, then he'll take it out on Andrew, he'll blame him for encouraging me to rebel against him, but then he's a big boy and can handle it. He'll save his most virulent anger for me, when and if our paths should cross. I'm not looking forward to going to work tomorrow, the up-side will be to hand in my resignation. Then I'm going to have to find another job quickly because I now have rent to pay.

I hadn't asked him if he wanted anything to eat, I just assumed that he would. I was buttering bread ready to make sandwiches. "Look I can't stay, I have to get home to my girlfriend or she'll think all the wrong things, I did tell her what I was doing this morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought, you know, I owe you for your help and this was my way of repaying you." It was a feeble attempt at salvaging my embarrassment but it was the best that I could do.

"Sorry, I should have told you that I'm spoken for."

"That's alright, I'll crawl into my hole and die."

"No you won't, the new you is much stronger than that." He pecked me on the cheek and left.

After he'd gone I finished making the sandwiches because I had realised that I hadn't had breakfast and suddenly I was hungry.

I had made myself a cup of coffee and just sat down to eat my lunch when there was a knock on my door. I opened it to be confronted by a battered Mum. "Oh Ruth, what am I going to do? Your Father was so. . . I've never seen him so angry. He shouted a lot of nasty things at me and his language, it was filthy the things that he called me. He hit me, several times and very hard. I don't know what to do."

"Sit down Mum, can I get you something to eat, a cup of coffee maybe? When you've calmed down, we can talk this thing through. We need each other right now."

"Thank you for this, I have nowhere to go to and no-one to help me. I can't use the church, I can't go back there, and the thought of having to show my face there again is just too horrible to contemplate. I don't know how your Father is going to explain that video, and, quite frankly I don't care."

"But that's the problem Mum, you do care. You may not think so right now but it's in your nature to care. I bet that when I suggest that you go to the police you'll tell me that you can't do that to your father. Mum you have to stand up to him, you'll be surprised how good it feels to eventually get up the courage to do it for the first time and after that it gets easier."

"But he's a good man." Her tone, and the fact that she touched the bruise on her cheek, told me that even she doubted that statement but felt that she had to defend him. "He's a good Christian."

"Mum, he's not even a good Christian. If you were to look at what it means to be a good Christian you will realise that the supposed core of the Christian doctrine is all about love, unconditional love, and part of that is to respect people's differences and not to impose your values on others. Father imposed his values on you for all of your married life, oh he told you often enough that his values were the only true values, and I have no doubt that he believed that, but not everyone agrees with him. You saw that video up there on the big screen, is that the behaviour of a man who should be followed, is that the behaviour of an awesome man of God. His actions in that video are reprehensible and I don't know what the outcome will be, but whatever that is he deserves it."

"But this will destroy him, destroy his work, his church."

"Mum, he has destroyed himself, and if the church supports him it is worthy of destruction."

"But he's your father."

"Mum, he stopped being my father when he failed to realise that the rules, his rules, that he imposed on me were destroying me as a person. Now that I've found the real me I'm not going back to what I was. I am a strong person now, can't you see that?"

"Yes, and I'm proud of what you have become, but Darling, don't let your anger blind you to the good qualities that you've found in yourself, rise above your anger and be the person you are meant to be."

I was just about to answer, there was a slight pause while I tried to think of my answer, when the phone rang. It was Andrew. "Ruth," That was as far as he got before I hung up. The phone rang again. "Ruth, please don't hang up. Is your Mum there?"

"Yes she is." My tone was meant to convey the message that I didn't want to talk to him. It didn't work.

"That's a relief. Your father has been on the phone, he's in a real mess. I can't get any sense out of him, he's babbling about being ruined by me and sobbing that he can't find your Mum and doesn't know what to do. I was tempted to tell him to pray." 

"Did he happen to tell you what happened in church this morning?"

"No, what happened? Wait, don't tell me, the whole church didn't happen to see a certain porn video did it?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God, no wonder he's in a state."

"You're lucky that you weren't there."

"What do you mean? You don't think that I had anything to do with the video do you?"

"Andrew, I know what I saw."

"Do you? Look I'd like to come and see you, I need to clear the air about something."

"My Mum's here, remember?"

"I don't care, in fact it will be better if she was there. I'll be there in ten minutes and I'll explain everything." Before I could tell not to bother he'd hung up.

"Who was that?" 

"Andrew Hudson, he's coming over to discuss that video that was shown at church this morning. Before he gets here I need to tell you that I was responsible for it being shown."

"I thought you might have had something to do with it, and I applaud you for it." I couldn't believe my ears, she was supporting my destruction of her husband's reputation. "He had it coming to him after what he said to you in church two weeks ago, oh he actually admitted to me that he directed that message at you. We had an argument about it and I told him the he would have to earn my respect all over again. To say that he wasn't happy would be an understatement. He has blamed Andrew Hudson and he really must be upset to call him looking for your address in search of me."

"This is a new person sitting here, Mum, I never thought that you had it in you to stand up to him like that."

"Ruth, if you thought that what he did made you angry, it had nothing on my anger."

"But that night, you supported him."

"No I didn't, I was just trying to calm you down and explain my position. I didn't like my position any more than you did, but I had to think about how I'd approach the problem. I didn't have your resources, if I had I'd probably done something similar. He needed to be taught that you can't just ride roughshod over people's feelings like that."

"What are we going to do?"

"Would it be possible for me to stay here until everything settles down and we can talk some sense into your father?"

"You can stay as long as you like. What will he do about the church, I don't think that he'd want to be there now that this has happened, and he's been doing it for so long he doesn't have anything else to fall back on."

"He can always make a career out of porn, I hear it pays well." 

"Mum!"

"I know, I shouldn't have said that and I'm sorry, I just had this moment of stupidity."

"What are we going to do about the fact that he has assaulted you? You just can't let him get away with that, he needs help."

There was a knock on the door and I let Andrew in. He kept his distance from me and made no attempt to show any kind of affection. "What was it that you wanted to say about that video, and don't try to convince me that it wasn't you I saw standing there playing with your cock?"

"It wasn't me and I can prove it."

"This had better be good."

"Okay, think back to the man that you claim is me."

"Y-e-s." I wasn't sure where this was going but I let him continue.

"Can you recall everything about his cock? Do you have a mental picture of it?"

"Yes."

"Was it circumcised or not?"

"Not I think, yes, I'm sure that it wasn't"

"Now remember back to the last time that we made love."

"Yes." I had a smile on my face because it had been a very pleasant moment.

"My cock, you got up close and personal with it as I recall, is it circumcised?"

"Yes, yes it is!" He had a smile on his face as if a weight had been lifted from his mind.

"Would you like another look to confirm this?" He asked. I was shocked to see that Mum wasn't at all shocked by this conversation.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. But who was that I saw, he's the spitting image of you?"

"That is my cousin. The gene pool runs deep on the male side of the family and I have several cousins that could pass for my brother and this particular reprobate is one of them."

"But that was Celia in it too, wasn't it?"

"Yes, unfortunately. She doesn't do that sort of thing anymore. That video was made several years ago when she needed money and my cousin talked her into making some porn videos. How your father came to be in it I didn't know but I've spoken to her about it and she remembers it, she said that he wasn't very good."

"He was on one of those evangelical conferences and there were rumours at the time that some of the pastors had a little extra-curricular fun. This fun has returned to jump up and bite him." Mum said. "I heard about it and he confessed and swore me to secrecy."

"Well it's out in the open now. How do you think that he'll handle it?"

"Probably plead guilty as charged and explain that it was a moment of human frailty that saw him involved in it. He'll probably claim that the video was shot without his knowledge or permission." Mum said. "But then he'll be lying, you see when he came back from that conference he told me all about it, how he'd been seduced by a beautiful woman and had sex with her. He said that he was with a group from the conference at a restaurant and Celia was a waitress there. One of the local pastors knew her and introduced her to the others and when they had finished their meal your father had accompanied her back to an apartment where all of this took place. He was worried at first that she would blackmail him by threatening to tell the church about it, but the pastor that had introduced them told him that it was all taken care of. He was told later of the video and that it was destined for the overseas market and would not be released locally, and that was why I was so shocked when I saw it."

"That was of course before the Internet porn websites that make such videos freely available to download. He must have known of its existence because he got paid for his participation and he will have to rely on me not revealing the payments that he's received over the following two years from this video." Andrew told us. "I noticed these payments when I was going through his old tax returns for him. At first he told me some tale about it being royalties from a book that he'd had published until I pointed out to him that the money was coming from a video production company and not a publisher or literary agent. He told me all about it."

"I don't know what to think any more." I said to them. "Here was this man that I thought was the embodiment of an ultra conservative Christian pastor, and you've just revealed that he has had a human side to him all along. If he'd shown that to me earlier none of my revenge would have happened, and I would have thought him a better person for it."

"Yes but he didn't show that to you, he acted just like many people who become 'born again', they take a position that is diametrically opposed to what they did before they changed. Only in his case his lapse occurred while he was a pastor and that made his new position even more conservative. When you're heavily associated with a church like his you see it all the time, but in most cases the novelty wears off and the people return to something like their previous character. In his case, because of his position he had to maintain the rage so to speak, and he made it really hard on you." She told me. "For that I'm sorry, sorry that I didn't have the guts to stand up to him. But you've turned out very well and we have Andrew to thank for that."

My opinion of Andrew was swinging back to where it was on Thursday before I'd seen the fucking video. I was back to thinking that he was a good guy after all. "I disagree," Andrew said, "You laid the foundations for Ruth to become a very capable young lady, all that I've done is to put icing on the cake, to pretty it up, you deserve the credit."

"Look it's getting late and we haven't eaten, what do you say we order in a pizza?" I interrupted before this got too soppy.

"Sounds good to me," Mum said, "I don't know when the last time I had a pizza was."

Pizza ordered and a bottle of wine produced, we sat and waited. Mum took her first sip of wine. "This is nice, I don't know why churches forbid us to drink wine, Jesus drank wine."

"The ban on wine has nothing to do with scripture, it is more to do with the Calvinistic attitudes that we have inherited from our ancestors and stemmed from the early King James Bible." I explained.

The pizza arrived and we sat at the kitchen table and ate it. Mum licked her fingers and looked at us. "Should we put him out of his misery or make him suffer a little while longer?"

"I think that we should let him know that you're safe and taking a time out from him for a day or so. I hope that he'll progress through the blame stage and come to terms with why all of this has happened. If he presses the issue we should tell him that you've sought refuge at a Women's Shelter, he'll have visions of you being at the mercy of the hairy legged feminists that seem to run these places, and of you not being the same person when you return."

"You haven't quite let go of your anger yet, have you?" Mum asked.

"Not quite, but I'm getting there."

"You will, it was never in your nature to stay angry for long, that's one of the things that I love about you." Andrew said, bringing a swift glance from Mum.

"When you say 'love' do you mean love?" She asked.

"Yes, I love her, and when she told me to get out of her room, and her life, I was devastated, believe me, I thought that my world had come to an end. I can't compete against Mills and Boon's heroes."

"You do a pretty good job." I reached for his hand. Another, this time slightly longer, glance from Mum.

We talked until the bottle of wine was empty and the question of whether Andrew was to stay the night was reached. "If Andrew stays, is he going to sleep on the sofa and you and I share your bed, or do I get the sofa?" Mum asked.

"I could always. . . ."

"Don't worry, I'll take the sofa." She said. Andrew smiled at me and thanked Mum. "I realise that people today have no compunction about making love before marriage and I'm in favour of it." She caught my shocked look. "Don't be so shocked, the marriage laws that the church adheres to have less to do with cementing a loving relationship between two people before they take the plunge, as they are to preserve some archaic property laws based on a marriage contract drawn up between both sets of parents. This involved dowries and a proof of virginity as evidence that the bride was not in breach of that contract, and a steady market in sacs of blood to fool the husband. Love has nothing to do with it, don't get me wrong, I'm no advocate of wholesale fornication to test the sexual prowess of the other party. To me, making love is an integral part of the joining of the physical and spiritual relationship between two people." Andrew stayed.

We left Mum at my apartment to go to work. On arrival we were confronted by a mob of the voracious media, all vying to get the scoop. "Miss Williams, can you tell me, did you have anything to do with the video shown in your father's church yesterday?"

"Was I on it?"

"No."

"Then why do you think that I had anything to do with it?"

"What I meant was, were you responsible for the video being shown to the whole church?"

"I was not responsible for the content of the video and neither was I responsible for it being shown."

"So you deny any involvement in it being shown?"

"No." She was getting exasperated at my evasions, but then she hadn't yet asked the one question that I couldn't deny.

"Were you involved in it being shown?" 

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You'll have to ask my father that. Now if you'll excuse me we have work to do." Andrew ran interference for me as we pushed through to the staff entrance.

"You handled that extremely well." Andrew said as we entered his office. "If that had happened a month ago, you would have turned around and run, screaming, for the car park. You told them what they wanted to know but told them nothing, they were after a scandal and, while they have a whiff of one, you've not given them one."

"I was scared, if you hadn't been there I would have run."

"I don't think that you would have, you might not have handled it as well as you did, but you would have tried to respond because that's who you are." All the time he told me this he had his hands on my shoulders and as he finished he kissed me, softly, gently and lovingly. He knew exactly what I needed to hear to calm me. I kissed him with a little more force just to let him know that I was grateful for his love and support.

Celia was angry on the phone. "Where the fuck did your little friend dredge up that video from?"

"A friend gave it to her, apparently it is on one of those free porn sites under the title of 'Old Dude Fucks MILF While Husband Watches'. He had made the same mistake that she had, that it was me playing to role of the husband instead of Cousin Tim. You weren't to know when you enticed Pastor Williams into your studio that it would eventually find its way to his daughter at a time when she was less than happy with her father. She ran it for the church to get back at him for years of humiliation. It worked by the way."

"So what happens now between you and her?"

"Everything's fine between us."

"You're kidding, how did you manage that?"

"Just pointed out that it wasn't me playing your husband."

"So what will happen to her father?"

"We don't know yet, we're playing it by ear."

It was Wednesday when we agreed to meet with Father in a neutral location, Andrew's Lawyer provided his conference room for the occasion. Father began aggressively. "Whatever did I do to you that would make you do that to me?"

"I can understand your anger with me because of the video, but in my defence, I was still angry with you for the humiliation that I suffered at your hands in church. Now we can sit here and yell and scream at each other and achieve nothing other than making each other even angrier, or we can calm down and talk this thing through like rational adults, which is it to be." This stopped him in his tracks. He had come to this meeting thinking that he would be able to browbeat me into submission and I'd shown him in a gentle and non-aggressive way that I would not let that happen. 

He looked at me for a moment or two before he realised that he would have to change his approach. "I'm sorry, but I've been under a lot of strain over the past few days. Everything that I've ever worked for has come crashing down around my ears and I don't know what to do."

"I have been thinking about this, and have discussed it with Mum and Andrew. It will require you to confess to making a huge mistake many years ago, to which you have repented to Mum and God, and from which you have moved on into a better place. You have devoted your life to the service of God and the church, and want to continue with that work."




Betrayed Ch. 02



"I don't think that I can go back to the church, I feel that I have let them down in a big way."

"I don't expect you to go back without the way being cleared for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I will ask the church to allow me to make a statement admitting to allowing my anger to tarnish my reason, resulting in me making the decision to show the video without fully understanding the truth of the matter. This will give them the opportunity of deciding whether they are inclined to forgive you and allow you to continue. I think that it would be asking too much for them to let the situation to return to normal straight away, there may be some form of penance involved and you should accept that with great humility. Let's face it, your whole life depends on it."

"I suppose that you're right, but it will be hard."

"Now I'm prepared to do my bit but I need to be sure in my own mind that the incident on the video happened only once and that there are no other video's out there. Will you give that assurance?"

"It only happened once."

"And that you have not betrayed Mum with her or any other woman since then?"

"Yes, you have my assurance on that score."

"Good. Now, before I allow Mum to even think about going home with you I want your assurance that there will be no repetition of your assault on her. In return for that assurance she has agreed to not go ahead with having you charged you with assault."

"I promise never to lift a finger against her ever again."

"And to give your assurance to never again use emotional, or psychological, force against her."

"You have that assurance."

"Okay we have a starting point for negotiations. Let me make it perfectly clear that I will not be returning to live with you and Mum. You may come and visit me at my apartment after you have been accepted by the church as a pastor, and have shown Mum that you have mended your ways and are no longer a threat to her physical, emotional and psychological security. Do you understand and accept these conditions?"

"Yes."

"Good. Tomorrow I will contact the church and seek permission to speak to the congregation. I'll have to explain the reasons for my actions and probably give them an assurance that there will be no repetition. After I've spoken to them they will contact you and meet with you and outline the conditions under which you will be allowed to return. If I were you I wouldn't expect an easy ride, you'll have to earn their respect, just as you'll have to earn Mum's and my respect. Do you understand and accept these conditions?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any comments to make?"

"You have changed, I never expected to sit here and hear you speak in such a confident manner. There was a time, not that long ago, when this would have been unthinkable and, back then I wouldn't have let you speak to me in such a manner. But you have changed, and I now realise that I am also going to have to change, and I almost hate to admit it, but I might have to seek your advice on the changes that I'll have to make. I am proud of the woman that you've become despite me."

I met with the church Elders the next day and they gave permission for me to address the church. This left me just Friday and Saturday to prepare for it. It wasn't just what I was going to say that I needed to prepare, but a demonstration that involved Andrew would need some work. I left that up to him, I had to tell him what I was doing before he agreed to assist me and it took a little persuasion of the loving kind, actually it didn't take that persuasion, I just wanted to do it and he wasn't going to stop me.

I sat in the front row, where Father would normally have sat, while the opening concert took place followed by the video commercial that told all and sundry what the church had done in the past, was doing in the present, and planned to do in the future. As this drew to a close I rose from my seat and mounted the stage. I could hear the puzzled noises from the people in the auditorium. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have asked to be allowed to address you for a couple of reasons, not the least of which is that I was responsible for that video being broadcast on the screens last week. I apologise for the very nature of the video and my excuse is that I believed that I was justified in having it shown."

"You see I thought that two of the men that I thought that I could trust implicitly had betrayed that trust in a humiliating manner. I was angry, so angry in fact that I used that anger as justification for my actions. One man was my father and the other man I believed was my boss and a man well known in this church, Andrew Hudson." I pointed to the door at the back of the auditorium and Andrew walked in wheeling a wheelbarrow full of large stones that he emptied just in front of the stage. He mounted the stage and lifted a cut-out, courtesy of the store's Promotions Department, of my father and stood it in the centre of the stage. "I was so angry in fact that I forgot the teachings of Jesus and," I took the mike from its stand, stepped down from the stage and bent to pick up a stone, "and I cast the first stone." I threw the stone as hard as I could at the cut-out of my father, hitting it in the middle of his face, snapping its Styrofoam neck. His head fell to the floor bringing gasps from the audience. Andrew picked up his effigy and stood it up before running away from it as I hurled a stone at it, hitting him in the heart. "In my anger I metaphorically killed these two men."

I paused while this sunk in. "I have since learned the facts behind the video and I apologise unconditionally to the men involved. To my father, your Pastor, who has admitted that this was an indiscretion that happened before I was even born. He has repented that indiscretion and sought forgiveness from my Mum and from God. God we know has forgiven him, and my Mum likewise has forgiven him. To Andrew, the man I love, who, based on a momentary glance when I was very upset, I wrongly accused of participation in the making of this video. I have unreservedly apologised to him and he has accepted my apology."

"What I have learned from this is that we should not act without first getting the facts, and if we decide to act we must remember the teachings of Jesus. I invite any of you who is without sin to come forward and pick up a stone and throw it at me or one or both of these cut-outs." No-one took me up on the offer.

"For some little time now I have rebelled against some of the rules that my father has imposed on me, like what I should wear and how I should not have my hair cut. I rebelled to the extent that I moved out of home and have found my own apartment. I have also changed my appearance and, while I like how I now look, my father, because he thought that he was protecting me from the worldly body images that he thought are an abomination, got angry with me. We had words and I was humiliated by his reaction to the changes that I'd made. It was while I was still suffering from this humiliation that I first saw the video. I have never been so angry in my entire life and it was that anger that led to what you saw. I was wrong to let my anger spill over like that, to the point that I was incapable of rational thought. I was wrong to give in to the temptation to harm those that I thought had harmed me."

"My father and I have had a long discussion on these matters and he has conceded that, not withstanding my actions of last Sunday, my new look hasn't changed me as a person. He has agreed that I should keep this look." I struck a pose and moved my hands down my sides to display my new look. This brought a round of applause from the crowd. "He has also agreed that he should have had faith that I wouldn't change the way that I interact with other people, and I agreed that on this subject his teachings have taught me well. We are now getting on better than we have for a long time, although I'm not moving back home," I grabbed Andrew's hand. "I have a good reason for this decision." Another round of applause. "Before we leave the stage I'll invite my Mum to come up and say a few words."

Mum rose from her seat and, with head held high, stepped onto the stage. I handed her the mike.

"My friends, Ruth and I have had quite a few long discussions about what has transpired over the past few weeks and she has given me a new confidence in myself that I'd thought long dead. It is with this confidence that I am able to tell you about what has happened. Many years ago William was invited to attend a church conference. He was new to the ministry, it was before he came here, and relied on others to lead him in the right path. Unfortunately he was led astray and committed those acts that you witnessed last week. On his return home he confessed all to me and promised that it would never happen again. I accepted his confession and I am confident that he has kept his promise to me about a recurrence of the sins of the flesh of which he was guilty. On looking back I have come to realise that it was in that time of forgiveness that I conceived my beautiful daughter Ruth." More applause. "I have forgiven my husband and I ask that you forgive him as well. While I think that he truly repents his sins, I also think that there should be some sort of penalty, something like serving a probationary term as Associate Pastor before being restored to his role of Senior Pastor. If you agree to that proposal the church should begin immediately to seek out a suitable candidate."

"What about you, Ruth?" Someone in the front row shouted out. This brought on a chant of 'We want Ruth, we want Ruth.'

I stepped forward and held up my hand for silence. "While I'm flattered, I don't have the knowledge and skills to be a pastor, you will have to look elsewhere."

"I agree," Mum told them, "While I'm impressed at the change in Ruth, I agree that she is not ready for what you've proposed. Maybe in the future she might take that step, and if she does, I will support her whole heartedly." She put her arms around me and hugged me. "I am so proud of her." We left the stage and the service resumed. 

The Elders contacted Father and several meetings were arranged to thrash out what would happen next. Mum went back home on the Tuesday and both of them had dinner with Andrew and I on Friday evening. After the meal, and as we sat around talking over cheese and coffee, Andrew asked father for permission to marry me. He had made no mention of his intentions and it caught me a little by surprise. "No way!" I cried.

"What do you mean no way, don't you want to marry me?"

"It's not that, you've really sprung it on me. I know that you want to marry me, I've known for a while, but the normal thing is to ask me first."

"We've been skirting the issue for days now and I got the impression that you were all for it, so I did what I did on impulse."

"Okay, you're forgiven, and I agree, I'll let you marry me."

We were all at church on Sunday and Father was right on his A game. "I have sinned! I have been led from the paths of righteousness by the temptations of the flesh! I am not proud of what I did those many years ago and for years I have lived in fear that my mistake would be discovered. Little did I know that the person who would bring this to your attention would be my own daughter. I fully understand why she did it and I deserved her wrath, for I have to admit I was very harsh when I admonished her for the change from what I perceived to be a pure young woman into a woman of the world. I was wrong to do that, not so much because she went against me in so doing, but because I didn't take into consideration her feelings. She has told me that for years she suffered the taunts and ridicule of the people of the world because of her appearance and I realise now that this is what has held her back from reaching her full potential as a woman. I was guilty of being over-protective, but that has changed and I am truly proud of the woman that she has become despite my best efforts."

"I too have been guilty of relying too heavily on those who I trusted. I was at a church conference and, as I was new to this church world I allowed myself to be led by those with more experience than me. It was one of those pastors who introduced me to that woman and encouraged me to forsake the vows that I made to my wife before God and succumb to the temptations of the flesh. I was not aware that this episode was being filmed and that film was to be release so that voyeuristic perverts around the world could witness my shame. I was wronged be someone I thought I could trust and was lured into the perfumed den of a harlot."

"From this I learned a lesson, and that was just how easy it is to yield to the temptations of the flesh. It took a stronger man than I was at the time to withstand the powers of temptation, so I learned that I should support those who repent of their sins of the flesh and help them to regain the paths of righteousness. I have done this on many occasions and the men and women that I have counselled have seen the error of their ways and returned to a blameless life." 

"I am no better than any one of you, nor do I hold myself to be better than you. I am not a paragon of virtue, nor do I expect you to be one. All that I ask, all that God asks of me and you is that we try, sincerely try, to live the virtuous life that is favourable in his eyes."

"Knowing what you now know of me I do not expect you to say; 'He is human after all,' and all will be forgiven, and then we can all get on with our lives, our church lives, as if none of this happened. I fully expect to have to perform some form of penance before I am allowed to walk amongst you again as your Senior Pastor. I willingly submit myself to the will of the people. If it requires me to fall on my sword, then so be it. If it requires me to serve a time working with those less fortunate than you and I, the homeless and destitute of this city, then so be it."

"Ladies and gentlemen, my future is in your hands, and whatever I am required to do I will do with a fullness of heart. I bow my head before you and commit myself to my fate."

He stood with bowed head as the audience reacted, at first hesitantly and then enthusiastically. Mum mounted the stage and hugged him before leading him to his seat.

The church Elders reacted as he'd expected, his penance was to serve under another Pastor for a period of three months and, if his record remained unblemished, he would be welcomed back as their Senior Pastor. They even began to organise the re-ordination ceremony as if it was a foregone conclusion.

Andrew had to go home to his house that afternoon because Celia had rung and asked him to. She insisted that he go alone and that concerned me. We well along with the planning for our wedding, Father would officiate, and I had thoughts of something happening that would upset our plans.

He arrived home with a worried look on his face. I knew that something was very wrong and I hugged him. "What is it? What has happened?"

"I want you to ask your father where he spent Sunday night two weeks ago, and every night until your Mum returned home?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he tells you he spent those nights at home he's lying to you. He spent them with Celia. I didn't know about it until she told me all about it last night. They have been lovers on and off ever since that video was made and he ran to her when it looked like his life as he knew it was going down the gurgler. He checked his voice mail by phone so that he could answer calls and keep appointments, but he and Celia have been at it big time."

"You're sure of this, are you? I don't want to go running off and causing all sorts of problems unless I'm absolutely sure of the facts. Look what happened the last time."

"She has sworn out a Stat Dec (Statutory Declaration, same as Deposition) to that effect. It seems that now he's been forgiven by the church thanks to you, he doesn't want to slip up again, so he dumped her, and you of all people know what happens when a woman gets angry with a man. Hell hath no fury etc."

"Talk about being betrayed. I trusted him when he told me that it only happened the once, I believed him and told the church that, and they believed me. What do I do now?"



Betrayed Ch. 02 (Complete Revision)



I have completely revised this story from the original that had been submitted.

====================

Angela was trying to think how she ended up in this place. She had been walking down the street to her next appointment. Paris gave her greater freedom to sell her body to men and women to inflict pain. Angela sought her own sexual release through pain; the reason her family had disowned her. Well, and the fact that they found out she had lied about Master Michael. 

Her mind reflected back remembering that it was nearing dusk and soon the city would be awash with lights. It was a quiet time when she felt a sting on her arm much like a bee and then nothing until she woke up here with Master Michael and now a new Master; Master Samuel. 'I must be in Paris yet; probably the basement of some old house'.

Angela squirmed on the blanket in her cage and every time she shifted position, her sore skin flamed like fire. She smiled enjoying and relishing in the pain; the sexual release it gave her and was determined to outlast the both of these stupid men; then she felt guilt at her thought. Even as Master Michael had peeled the wax strips off her pussy she had almost succeeded to orgasm. 'Yes' she thought 'I am still a pain slut'. Then a new thought imbedded itself in her mind; just maybe the both of them would be what she needed.

Why had Master Michael never mentioned his brother? She had found no evidence in his house that he had any family. They seemed to be close; hell; she couldn't tell them apart and that excited her too. What if she begged forgiveness? Would they be willing to grant it and give her another chance? Too many questions and she shook her head trying to clear her mind so she could concentrate on the pain once again.

Angela was thirsty and looked at the bowl of water he had left her. She laughed to herself as she looked at the bowl of water 'Urine; I've drunk it straight from men and women. He's a fool' she thought, but then felt a pang of guilt at her thought once again. She swiveled over, lifted the bowl, drank it all and sat the bowl back in place. Her fingertip touched the bowl and she once again smiled thinking he had touched it too and it was 'his' urine that she drank and it pleased her. She stretched out her legs and laid her back against the cage. She felt the welts along her skin; he had not broken the skin and she actually laughed out loud before she realized what she had done. 'No care; they're not here'; she had not seen the camera.

The more Angela touched her sore skin and muscles, the greater her need became and the more she wanted to orgasm, but wished it was him making her do so; his touch, his pain and even the feel of his cock within her. She finally drew her legs up, spread them wide and started to slap her sore wet pussy lips as hard as she could feeling her clit respond to the pain she inflicted; then she started to masturbate roughly thinking of his fingers and hands; striving to seek the release that burned within her all the while thinking of his face, his hands and also those of Master Samuel. 

Angela tilted her head back against the bars of her cage and smiled again. She laughed out loud remembering that she had almost cum when he caned her, but Master Michael kept stopping intermittently and she had almost begged for him to let her cum. She remembered their time together and his abilities to bring her to the best orgasms she had ever known. She wanted to have him use her, to feel his body against hers once again and to be owned and possessed by him; them.

Master Michael had awakened in her the hunger that she had denied, but craved for so many years. Then she had become afraid of what her family might do if they found out about her. That was why she had called the police; why she had lied. They found out anyway; she couldn't hide her own desires for long and then they had disowned her anyway. 

Now she regretted her actions that her fears had brought about. Angela should have told her Master as a good sub would have; she should have come clean and told everyone the truth on the witness stand. Now wished she had as he had always been able to provide her the best release she had ever known. She had searched since his incarceration to find someone else to give her that release, but failed. They could inflict pain, but it wasn't the same; her heart ached for it to be him.

Mike and Sam were in the monitor room observing her; both with identical angry scowls on their face. Mike was the first to speak, "She's played me like a fool again," he said as he pounded his fist down on the desk. 

Sam stood up and placed his hand on Mike's shoulder, "Easy. We didn't know she was a 'pure' pain slut in the truest sense and now we do. She craves it like a drug. We can use this to our advantage Mike."

Mike sighed and let the anger flood from his body. "You're right. We can use pain as punishment and never let her reach orgasm. Her need for an orgasm will be what we need to control her. Let's get back there and restrain her hands and legs to prevent her from having what she craves," and he turned to exit the room; Sam followed.

Angela's self inflicted pain was building her orgasm, but she was no where near to release when she heard them enter the room. She gazed into their angry faces and then stopped laying her hands down along the sides of her body. She knew what she had to do and without thinking about herself for a change; she tucked into a kneeling position and hung her head.

"Please Masters, may this unworthy slut speak?" she requested.

Sam and Mike were a bit startled by her words, but Mike was the one to speak, "What do you have to say that would be of interest to us?"

"I would like to beg forgiveness and tell you that I will accept all punishment I have coming for what I did to you. If you can't forgive me ...," and she let a sob escape past her lips, "... can you help me? I should have told you of my fears; my indecision and let you help me. I was afraid, of my family and my building desires for more and more pain. Confusion led me to the actions I had taken. With all my heart, I wish it had never happened!" and she started to cry in earnest.

Sam looked into his brother's eyes and knew that Mike still cared for this little bitch. He placed a firm hand on Mike's shoulder again before he spoke. "Why should we listen to more of your lies slut?"

His question strengthened Mike's resolve, "Forgiveness? It would take a long time before I can give you forgiveness for what I've been through and suffered. Why should I bother?"

Angela bent over hugging herself and cried at his harsh words. "I'll do anything ... anything Masters to be given another chance. I will stay with you always, even in this cage if that is your wish and to die here if that is your wish also. Please Masters, please!" and Angela started to cry in earnest. "Will you kill me then if you can't help me? I don't know what to do? I'm so lost and alone."

Sam motioned for Mike to step out of the room so they could talk without Angela hearing their words. He looked at Mike questioningly and waited for him to gather his thoughts and reply. 

Mike looked pensive and then sighed heavily. "I don't know whether to believe or not. She could just be saying that because we caught her. Maybe some kind of test?" and he looked at Sam.

"Hmm, maybe a test would be in order; if she passes then we can proceed from there, but if she fails then we'll talk about what to do with her," said Sam sternly. "Right now, let's secure her arms and legs." Mike nodded his head in agreement and they stepped back into the room. Angela had not moved and was still crying bent over in her cage.

Angela barely heard them as they re-entered the room. One of them opened her cage, but she didn't know which one it was. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She eased back again on her ass and spread her legs apart.

Mike grabbed her leg by the ankle restraint while his brother handed him a clip. Soon her ankles were restrained against each side of the cage. He backed out, stared at her a moment and felt his cock begin to get hard, closed the door and relocked it. 

Sam flipped back the top of her cage and they restrained her hands against the sides of the cage as well. The top was flipped back into place with a loud clank. Angela looked hesitantly up into their faces.

"You will not cum slut until we let you. You have just added to your punishment tomorrow," said Mike.

Angela hung her head, "Yes Masters. Thank you Masters."

Sam and Mike exited, resealed the room and went back upstairs. "How about a drink Mike?" said Sam knowing his brother was in a quandary about Angela and the feelings he obviously still had for her.

"I'd like that," said Mike. He followed Sam up the stairs and into the living room.

Ellen and Cindy were dusting the room when they entered. They both stopped and immediately came over and knelt down.

Sam smiled, "Ellen, fix my usual," he said and crossed over and sat in his lounger.

Ellen immediately got up and went to the bar.

"Cindy," said Mike, "My usual is bourbon neat." He crossed over and sat on the couch.

Cindy immediately got up and went to the bar.

Ellen crossed swiftly, carrying the drink, handed it to Master Samuel and knelt by his chair. "Would you like us to finish dusting Master Samuel?"

"No. Stay where you are," commanded Sam.

Cindy came swiftly with Mike's drink, handed it to him and also knelt by his leg.

Mike smiled down at her head and then laid his hand on it, "Release my cock and show me how much you worship it."

Cindy smiled and crawled in between Master Michael's legs. She eased off his shoes, undid his pants and lowered them off his body. She laid soft sensual kisses up and down the length of his hard cock; placed the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue around while gently applying suction. 

She removed her mouth and licked up and down the length of his shaft concentrating on its sensitive underneath. Mike spread his legs wider and moaned softly as her tongue and mouth caressed his scrotum. Cindy placed one of his balls in her mouth and gently swirled her tongue massaging and warming it before doing the same to the other. She tongued her way back to the head and greedily took it into her mouth enjoying the hard hot fullness of it. With expert ease, Cindy slowly sucked Master Michael's cock into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat before sucking it further into it.

Mike grabbed her head and started to slowly thrust into her hot mouth. Cindy moaned sending small vibrations along his shaft building his desires further. He grabbed her head and started to fuck her mouth faster and faster as her mouth clamped down tighter around his shaft. He closed his eyes feeling his balls finally tighten signaling his climax. He thrust one final time and released his load of cum into Cindy's waiting mouth.

Cindy kept Master Michael's cock in her mouth until he was finished and then softly removed it smiling broadly. She gently redressed him and then leaned her head against the inside of his thigh sighing contentedly. Cindy had known Master Michael for only a day, but loved him as much as Master Samuel. She would do everything in her power to please him.

Mike opened his eyes and took another swallow of his drink then looked down at Cindy. "You please me greatly my little slut," he said as he reached down and caressed her hair and gently brought her face up to look into her eyes. He could see her love and willingness to obey in them. "As a reward for pleasing me, I will let you choose how you will cum tonight."

Cindy's face lit up with his praise. "Master Michael I only seek to please you; would you let me cum with pain this evening Sir?"

Mike smiled at her request and Sam actually laughed across the room. Cindy blushed and once again laid her head against the inside of Master Michael's thigh. 'It's so good to be here' thought Mike as he closed his eyes and laid his head back; soon he was in a light sleep. Master Samuel stood and quietly whispered, "Leave him." They all left the room to let Mike nap.

Mike's sleep was disturbed by images of his captivity. His mind replayed his first week in prison when he had been grabbed in the shower by five men. He had fought the best he could, but they were all stronger and outweighed him by at least seventy-five to a hundred pounds. 

He had been made to suck each one of their cocks to hardness, then each had raped his ass and he was left on the shower room floor in pain and humiliation. Mike remembered his relief at being found by one of the prison guards, but then had been brutally taken by him also. Afterwards, the guard had laughed at him and left; Mike had struggled to get to his knees and then his feet. Mike had said nothing through the ordeal or afterwards knowing it would go worse for him if he did. 

Mike woke up with a strangled scream and in a cold sweat; Sam was sitting next to him and gathered him into his arms. Mike got himself under control and looked into his brother's caring eyes. He then related to Sam the ordeal that had brought about his dream. 

"I wish I'd had the money sooner to help Mike," he said. "It took time and investments before I had enough to bribe the warden to keep you safe."

"I know Sam; I know. I'm just glad I had you or I would still be in there," said Mike.

"It took your lousy excuse for a lawyer eight months to track me down in the Bahamas. I was so angry for what you had been through that I wanted to hunt down the whore and kill her. Once I finally visited you and could see the anguish in your eyes, I knew that would be too good for her," confessed Sam.

"You could tell?" questioned Mike.

Sam smiled, "You might appear to be calm and collected to everyone else, but, to me, your eyes always tell me what I need to know. I knew you were suffering, but couldn't say anything; I knew they were listening on the phone."

Mike finished the bourbon he had left on the side table. "I'm a bit hungry; how long have I've been out?"

"Only a couple of hours; Ellen and Cindy almost have dinner ready. Shall we go select a wine?" asked Sam.

"I think I just want some more bourbon with mine if you don't mind Sam," and he stood up. Sam nodded and they left the room.

The dining room table was already set when they entered and sat down. "Sam; tell me about this house?"

Sam smiled, "It use to be a ranch, but was foreclosed. I bought it and a hundred and fifty aches surrounding it. Eventually we'll developed it I think; as a further investment. The locals basically know that I'm a wealthy recluse who values my privacy."

"That works, but wouldn't it be better to hire some bodyguards at least to ensure that?" asked Mike.

"Already in the works; I'm just waiting for the contractor to build a barracks and guard station. The contractor starts in two days. I hired a company whose office is two states away. Told them that I didn't want local help; that if they hired anyone local then the contract was off; they prefer my money," explained Sam.

"The guards are hand selected mercenaries and we can count on their cooperation in all matters. They already requested a perimeter fence to encircle the property. How do you feel about that?" asked Sam.

Mike looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's not like it was at prison Sam. I'm free now and if it secures the property and adds to our safety, then I'm for it."

"Cindy!" called Mike.

Cindy came swiftly and knelt down by both Masters.

"Get me my usual," said Mike and then noted her hesitation. "It's Master Michael Cindy."

Cindy smiled, "Thank you Master Michael, right away," and she stood up.

"Get me mine too Cindy," said Sam.

"Yes, Master Samuel," and she left quickly for the living room and bar.

Cindy returned shortly with both drinks and set them down and then knelt at their feet. "Shall I go back into the kitchen Masters?"

"Yes Cindy, finish helping Ellen," Mike said.

Cindy rose swiftly and left the room.

"She's very well trained Sam; thanks," said Mike.

Sam nodded his head and took a swallow of his drink, "I didn't train her initially."

Mike looked at his brother, "Who?"

"I found an international organization that deals in submissive exclusively. They do all the initial training and then they are released to a Master, we just basically imprint our desires and needs," said Sam. 

Sam looked intently at his brother, "After what happened, I just felt it was now the safest route to take."

Mike smiled and then his face grew serious, but he couldn't voice what he was thinking. Sam knew the time was right to say it. "They can take her if you want. It was an option I was going to bring up." 

Mike nodded still dealing with his thoughts and emotions. "Let's see how she does with the test before I decide anything."

"What did you have in mind?" questioned Sam.

"Loyalty, let's see if she truly meant what she said," said Mike. "We'll discuss it after dinner and work out the details. Even if she passes the test, it doesn't mean I'm not going to punish her further for each of the days I was confined. This just means we'll get more creative in how we punish her for what I went through," anger still infused his words. "She'll suffer like she never could even imagine. For three years, all she is going to know is that cage, room and punishment." 

"Okay. I assume you already have some idea what you want to try so I'll listen. I don't trust her myself," said Sam.

Ellen came out of the kitchen, "Do my Masters wish to eat now?"

"Yes, bring it out," said Sam.

Mike studied the liquor and then took another swallow. "This is a large house. Have you considered on getting a couple of more subs?"

Sam smiled and then laughed lightly, "Getting two more slaves is a good thought. Variety is always a good thing; maybe later. Anyway, we should consider on how we can develop this land; any ideas?"

Mike laughed and shook his head, "Not a clue. Hey, how about a resort that caters exclusively to our lifestyle?" and he laughed again.

Sam didn't laugh and said in all seriousness, "Why not? It would give Masters the freedom and relaxation they are seeking."

At first Mike thought his brother was kidding, but noted his serious expression. "It's worth looking into indeed. I'm sure they would like somewhere to go at a modest cost."

*****

Cindy and Ellen were ordered to stay in their rooms. Sam and Mike proceeded to set up the test for Angela. Mike went down alone into the cellar and then into the room. He left the door open as he crossed over to the cage. "Wake up slut," he yelled and kicked her cage.

Angela lifted her drowsy head and looked into his eyes. She was sure that it was Master Michael. "Yes Master Michael," she responded. He smiled.

Mike unlocked the door to her cage and undid the clips that held her ankle restraints in place and then backed out. He lifted the top and removed the clips restraining her hands. "Crawl out," he said.

Angela bent her sore body and crawled over to him.

Mike reached down and helped her to stand and walked her over to a toilet. She used it and he handed her some toilet paper. "Today we will start on your punishment for last night's transgression of touching yourself and seeking an orgasm."

Angela stood and prepared to kneel in order to crawl over to him. She heard a sound and lifted her head immediately. He clutched a counter and then fell forward to the floor. 

"NO!!!" she screamed and rushed to his body. She ran her hands along his face calling his name, "Master Michael, please no ... Master Michael, don't leave me please!!!!"

Panic filled her and she looked around and shot straight through the door yelling for help. She found herself in the kitchen and still screaming for help.

Angela came to the entryway and found the door ajar, but passed it. The next room she entered was a living room and she was still screaming for anyone to help her. She ran for the stairs and Master Samuel was at the top. "Please Master Samuel," she cried with tears running down her face, "Please help, it's Master Michael, something's wrong. Oh God! Please help him!" and she turned to run back to the cellar. 




Betrayed Ch. 02 (Complete Revision)



Master Michael was standing in the doorway when she turned around. She rushed to him and collapsed at his feet and tightly wrapped her arms around his legs, buried her face in the fabric of his pants and cried. "I thought I had lost you!" and she heaved and cried more. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Mike looked up at Sam and smiled briefly. Sam nodded his approval now knowing that Angela did have feelings for his brother, but he still didn't trust her even though she had bypassed the open door leading to freedom to keep searching for help for him.

Mike looked down at Angela hoping his feelings were not misplaced that he might be able to save her, but to also punish her for what he had gone through. She would pay and he would slowly reclaim her, but, if not, he would consider the alternative option discussed the night before.

"Release your hold of me," he said sternly. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up to look into his cold eyes. "You will not touch me unless I say so."

Angela released the hold she had on his legs, "Yes Master Michael." The relief was evident on her face that he was alright.

"All you did was pass one little test; there will be others. At any time we may just get rid of you, it'll be our choice," he said coldly.

Angela swallowed hard and she stared into his angry eyes.

"Crawl back downstairs where you belong; your punishment awaits you and I guarantee that you will not like it nor will you cum," he said.



Betrayed Ch. 02



"Tell me, Lover," she whispered, "am I the most totally fuckable playtoy you have ever seen in your life?"

She punctuated her question by darting the tip of her tongue into my ear, then biting oh-so-gently on my earlobe. The moment, the public venue, the completely uninhibited display of raw sexual intensity was more than I could control. My only verbal response was a series of guttural grunts. The rest of my answer came in a spontaneous flood of jism that filled my panties. Dianna felt each successive jet with her fingertips. She smiled slyly and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she smirked. "Now, let's get you into the bathroom and cleaned up before you stain your suit." 

My escort grabbed me by the lapels and unceremoniously dragged me into one of the two restrooms. The regular stalls were too small to suit her, so she pulled me into the spacious Handicapped stall at the end of the row and slammed the latch closed.

"Strip," she commanded, "and hand me your panties."

I took off my shoes, pants and the soiled panties, handing the latter to her.

"All of it," she barked authoritatively

I hastened to comply, stripping out of my socks, suit coat, shirt, and T-shirt.

"That's better," she purred smugly.

Dianna pushed me down onto the toilet seat, then straddled my lap. She held my soiled panties up over our heads, watching the cum slowly settle towards the edge. The folds of toilet tissue had been no match for the deluge of creamy spunk from my cock. She shifted her gaze to meet mine.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she smirked, "that is one very large load. These panties were really expensive; I would hate to just throw them out. We can put them in one of our plastic bags and take them home, but not like this. They would ruin whatever else was in the bag. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have thought twice about sucking you off and none of this would have happened. But you just spent a really obscene amount of money to get me looking like this. It would be a shame to ruin it before you even take me out and show me off. What are we to do?"

She glanced again at the panties, then at me. Then, she pressed them into my face, smiling. I silently lapped up, then sucked my cum from within the panties I had been wearing only moments before. The flavor was slightly more bitter than Dianna's cum, but not altogether unpleasant. She scooped up as much of the cum on my cock and in my pubic hair as she could, then made me lick her hand clean. Then, she leaned over and kissed me deeply, sharing the aftermath of this most intense experience with me.

"Mmmm, that was wonderful," she intoned melodically. "You are so kinky."

She blotted up the remnants with toilet paper, then dropped it into the bowl between our thighs.

"That will do for now. But we still have to find you some underwear. What am I talking about? We have a whole bag of underwear right here!"

She rummaged through one of the bags at her feet for a moment. With a broad smile, she snatched up the lilac panties she had only recently been wearing.

"Here we are!" she pronounced triumphantly. Let's see these on you."

Dianna rose gracefully from my lap, helped me step into the new panties, then slid them up my thighs. She gently tucked my private parts down and back, added a few folds of toilet tissue, then nestled the panties snugly on my hips.

"There, good as new!" she exclaimed.

Then, she just looked at me for a moment, lost in thought.

"You know, Baby," she pronounced, smiling mischievously. "I was thinking; you got me all dressed up for you. Now, I want you to dress up a little for me. Fair is fair."

"Define 'dress up a little'," I replied.

She traced one fingernail lazily down my naked chest.

"I was just thinking it would be a shame to wear just the panties when it is part of a complete set," she responded. "This is something I would really like to share with you."

"Complete set?" I gulped. "You mean...."

Dianna nodded her head. Then, she reached into the bag, withdrew the matching lilac lace bra and dangled it before my eyes with one finger.

"Aren't I missing something really important?" I asked bemusedly. "Actually, two things?"

"Indulge me, Sweetie," she responded. "Please?"

Before I had a chance to answer, she spun me around, placed the bra around my chest, hooked the closure in back, slipped the straps over my shoulders, then turned me to face her once more. I looked down at my flat chest and the large, empty bra cups.

"It loses something in the translation," I observed dryly.

"I can fix that," she responded brightly.

She rummaged through her shoulder bag for a moment, the fished out a pair of lifelike silicone breast forms.

"You carry those around with you in case of emergencies?" I asked sarcastically.

She shrugged her shoulders just a little.

"Ya never know," she smirked. "I wore these before I got my own titties. Now..."

"Dianna, I don't think I can do this," I interrupted warily. "I mean, the lingerie is one thing, but this...."

She kissed me again softly.

"Do it for me, Lover," she intoned breathily. "It won't really show under your suit, and thinking of you all night, all dressed up for me and me alone is gonna make me so hot."

Just let go....

"Well," I replied cautiously, "if this is what you really want..."

She hugged me tightly, then inserted the oversized prosthetics in my bra cups. They fit snugly against my chest wall and filled out the voluminous bra cups perfectly.

"Oh, thank you Sweetie! You are the sexiest man I have ever met. Now, let's get the garter belt on you."

In a flash, the matching garter belt was fastened around my trim waist. The empty garter tabs flopped distractingly against my thighs. I gazed at my charming escort with obvious confusion written all over my face. That mischievous smile on her lips spoke volumes.

"Oh, that looks fabulous!" she murmured appreciatively. "I can't wait to see a pair of stockings on those long, shapely legs of yours."

Clothes or no clothes, I think most guys would have been running for the exit by that point. I guess I wasn't most guys. This was merely the latest in an endless stream of erotic experiences with the most bewitching woman I had ever met.

Dianna selected a pair of black seamed stockings like hers, then taught me how to bunch each one up into a doughnut, slip it over my foot and roll it carefully up my leg. She smoothed them into position with the palms of her hands, showing me how to align the seams arrow-straight. Dianna snaked the garters through my panties, then showed me how to attach my stocking tops to the four garter tabs. Then, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Oh, God, that is so hot! You are going to drive me to distraction all night. Now, hurry up and get your suit on. I'm famished!"

While I was dressing, Dianna scooped up my soiled panties and rinsed them out in the sink. Returning to the stall, she stuffed them into the plastic pouch in which the stockings had been packed, resealed the tape, and dropped them into the shopping bag. Once I was together, she adjusted my tie, taking time to gently caress my thrusting new tits through my suit coat. She kissed me lightly on the lips, winked, then led me out of the stall. She paused at the sink to wash her hands, then freshen her lipstick. She bent over the countertop, ostensibly to get a better view of her task in the mirror. I knew full well it was a calculated move for my benefit. Even through the heavy fur coat, I could visualize her long, shapely, stocking-clad legs and broad, firm, shapely bottom. I stepped up to her, pressed my groin against that tempting target, and massaged her bottom with both hands.

At that moment, a pair of women entered the restroom. While the door was open, I noticed the torso-in-a-skirt symbol on the door and realized Dianna had dragged me into the Ladies restroom. I didn't think they could see my lilac lingerie and stockings under my suit; at least, I hoped they couldn't. Still, their looks of scorn for my invasion of their sanctum sanctorum were obvious. Their appraisal of the fetching vamp at the vanity, allowing herself to be pawed so shamelessly, was no better. Dianna glanced at me in the mirror and winked in obvious pleasure. She tucked her lipstick back in her purse, turned, beamed a dazzling smile, and slipped her arm through mine.

"I think we're done here, Sweetheart," she cooed. "We will leave these ladies to their business – and wishing they were me right now, with a lover like you."

We made our way to the parking lot. Dianna strutted regally, like a queen on the arm of her king. I didn't want to dwell on the irony of that comparison, nor the fact that my lingerie and bouncing breasts made me feel anything by kingly. The bags went into the trunk and out came my trenchcoat. I opened the passenger door of the silver E500 for her. She slid appreciatively into the seat, looking up at me with a smile that spoke volumes. After I seated myself, she snuggled up next to me and gently massaged the back of my neck with her crimson talons, sending shivers down my spine.

As we made our way up the Avenue through the early-evening traffic, she furrowed her brow in thought.

"Sugar," she intoned in a seductive tone. "How much time do we have before our reservation?"

"A couple of hours. Why?"

Her manual ministrations switched from my neck to my inner thigh. I could almost see the wheels turning in that devious little mind.

"You have indulged me so shamelessly already," she began. "Would you grant me one more request?"

"I can't imagine not giving you anything you asked for," I responded.

She squeezed my thigh and smiled coyly at that.

"I may remind you of those words at a later time," she trilled. "It's just that... well, this whole outfit is so perfect, from the skin out – except for one little detail."

"What would that be, Baby?" I inquired.

"I know this sounds petty," she continued, "but it really deserves a red corset, not a black one. I know, I know; no one will see it. But you and I will know, and that you made me absolutely perfect for you, on this most perfect of evenings."

"It sounds wonderful," I agreed, "but where can we find one this late on a Saturday?"

"I know just the place," she exclaimed. "He's a specialty custom corsetiere on the North Side. I get all my corsets from him. In fact, I'm his favorite model when he does shows. If we can call him, I'm certain he will be more than happy to see us."  

For sheer eroticism, this was something I couldn't pass up. I lent her my cell phone and she dialed the number from memory. She spoke animatedly to the person on the other end for a few minutes, then terminated the call with a smug smile on her lips.

"He will be waiting for us, just as I promised," she pronounced. "I'll give you directions."

It took a while; the address was a three-flat brownstone in Rogers Park. The wiry, bespectacled man with the mustache and goatee hugged Dianna warmly. She introduced me to her friend Paul, who led us to his basement workshop/showroom.

"You look more ravishing than ever," Paul extolled. "When you described what you were wearing, I remembered I had something that would be perfect. You remember; you modeled it for me in the last show."

Dianna's eyes grew as big as saucers.

"It's still here?" she gasped. "I had tried so hard to put it out of my mind. I loved it! It almost killed me when you told me someone bought it right off my back."

"The woman who bid for it changed her mind," he replied. "It's been sitting here for months, just waiting for someone who could do it justice. To be honest, I always thought you were the one. Ah, here it is...."

'It' was a heavily-boned, butter-soft, lipstick-red calfskin corset with underwired demi cups. I helped my companion out of her coat, then unzipped her dress and carefully removed it. Paul took over, helping her remove her bra, corset and panties, then helped her into the new corset with exquisite care. I felt no jealousy at his intimate contact; the erotic appeal of the process was a joy to behold. Her stockings were affixed to the eight garter tabs. Then, he helped her into the matching thong which laced at the hips. Finally, he turned her to face me for my approval. She looked absolutely ravishing in corset, stockings and heels. Her full breasts were gloriously thrust up and out by the diminutive shelf cups. Her eyes met mine with tentative hope.

"Please, Sweetheart?" she beseeched quietly. "I know it's a lot, but it looks so good on me and I couldn't bear to walk away from it a second time...."

"You had me as soon as I saw it on you," I avowed.

I handed my credit card to Paul.

"Don't bother to wrap it," I said with a wink. "I think she'll wear it."

He left the room to call in the authorization and fill out the sales slip.

Dianna was in my arms in a flash, smothering me with kisses.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Baby," she gushed. "You are the best! How am I ever going to...."

She glanced down at the discarded black satin corset, now lying on the work bench next to us, then looked around in vain. Of course, we had left her Capezio bag, plus all the shopping bags, in the trunk of the Mercedes. Then she glanced up at me, a devilish glint in her eyes.

"Come here, you," she growled, as she whipped off my suit coat. In a flash, she had me down to lingerie and stockings again. Off came the garter belt and on went the corset before I could utter a peep. Perhaps I was just too stunned.

"Here, let me help with that," came the male voice behind me. "After all, I made that for her. I take pride in my work – and those who wear it well."

I blushed bright crimson at Paul's discovery of me in nothing but lingerie and thrusting 'breasts'. He seemed completely nonplussed about it, taking over for my girlfriend and tightening the laces.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he pronounced reassuringly. "I have customers of both genders..."

He glanced and Dianna appreciatively and winked.

"... and delightfully in-between. As it happens, you will be much more attractive in this than most of my male patrons. Dianna certainly knows how to pick her men." 

I blushed again, this time in gratitude. 

"Normally," Paul continued, "I would only cinch a first-timer down a couple of inches. You are already so trim, in such good shape and obviously take care of yourself, I think we'll try going all the way down."

I gasped in more than surprise as he cinched off the laces with a final tug, then tucked them in as he had done with Dianna. It felt like a vise had closed around my torso, preventing me from drawing a full breath. The corsetiere tucked the garters through my panties, re-attached them to my stocking tops, the stood back, next to Dianna, to appraise me with a critical stare. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"You know," he speculated out loud, "you wear it very well. It's a real shame to hide a figure like that under a suit – at least, a men's suit. With a little work and some figure-training, you could be a model in my next show with Dianna."

I was about to stammer out an embarrassed refusal when Dianna leapt to my side and snaked her arm through mine.

"We would adore that, wouldn't we, Lisa?" she exclaimed, winking at me. "I approached her on the subject in the car on the way over here tonight. She is just as excited as I am at the prospect and can't wait to begin her training. I know what a generous discount you give to your models – especially the ones who have the customers lining up at the end of the show, credit cards in hand. A girl can never get too much of a good thing – isn't that right, Sweetheart?"

I was about to exclaim no way when the subtle pressure of Dianna's pencil-thin stiletto heel on my instep prompted me to alter my response.

"It sounds... heavenly," I responded carefully.

She subtly squeezed my hand in silent appreciation.

"We're doing our next show at the Hilton, in conjunction with the Mr. Gay Leather pageant," Paul explained. "That's Memorial Day weekend. Dianna, do you think you can have her ready by then?"

"No problem," my lover avowed. "You know I have been Drag Mother for a half-dozen girls working at Ringers. Some of them were real 'rocks' when they began. Compared to them, my Lisa will be a piece of cake."

I signed the charge slip and receipt, noting the amount with casual interest. Only six hundred fifty dollars, plus tax? I had spent many times that on the rest of her wardrobe, including that fabulous coat. She was worth every penny, and then some. With Paul's expert assistance, we re-dressed each other. Dianna's newly-enhanced bustline enticingly overflowed the dress's delecoutage. My own thrusting titties tented the front of my suit coat more than a little. I had to cinch my belt all the way to the last notch. Even then, my pants were loose at the waist and tight at the hips and tush. Paul usurped my prerogative, helping Dianna into her sumptuous fur. Curiously, I was not the least bit offended by the unintended slight. It just seemed natural for a gentleman to help a lady with her coat. A gentleman? Wait a second....

"Let's go to dinner, Lover," Dianna interrupted. "My tummy is screaming Bloody Murder – and I'm suddenly in the mood for a big piece of meat."



Betrayed Ch. 03



Chapter 3: The Players Take The Field

There are, perhaps, a half-dozen places in the city to get a really good "big piece of meat" – at least, of the gastronomic variety. Morton's on North State Street is one of those, and a great place to see and be seen by everyone who is anyone. We valet-ed the Mercedes, then made our way inside. There was a moment at the coat check when I thought I would need a crowbar to pry the fur from Dianna's grasp. I quietly reassured her: a) it was only for a little while, b) wearing it into the dining area was just too ostentatious, even for us, and c) it would be there, waiting for her, upon our departure. She grudgingly assented, like a petulant child.

The hostess checked the reservation list for our name, then excused herself to check on the availability of our table. After she left, I leaned over and whispered into Dianna's ear.

"Lisa?" I asked pensively.

Her eyes danced.

"Lisa Layne, to be precise," she returned. I think it's absolutely perfect for you."

I thought back about all that had transpired in such a short time; the sex, the lingerie, the breasts, the corseting, the stockings. Now, she had just committed me to model with her, totally en femme, in front of an audience.

"Dianna, I don't know if I can...."

She turned fully to face me, pressed her body against mine and kissed my lips delicately. Meanwhile, hidden from view between our bodies, her hand massaged my raging hard-on.

"Just tell me to stop and I will," she murmured, fixing my gaze with her own.

I wasn't certain if she meant stop massaging my cock, stop feminizing me, or stop seeing me altogether. Was there a difference to her? What had I gotten myself into? When you got right down to it, was it really all that bad – or just... different? Who did it actually hurt? My marriage was a shambles and Susan, my once-in-a-lifetime love, was lost. Then, lightning had struck twice. This provocative, kinky woman promised a new, different, and utterly thrilling kind of relationship. Had I really, truly hated any part of it until now? Was I so willing to throw Dianna away, too?

"I can't," I replied. "I won't."

After I thought about it a moment longer, I continued with more resolve.

"I don't want to."

"You don't want to what, Lover?" she questioned softly.

Just let go....

"I don't want to... stop."

She smiled triumphantly and squeezed my aching cock in appreciation.

"As you wish, My Sweet," she purred.

The patrons and staff at Morton's are no strangers to Grand Entrances. Still, Dianna turned an entire roomful of heads as we were seated for dinner. The subdued overhead lighting still managed to ignite her sequined torso in a subtle flash of lights. Every male eye was riveted to her exaggerated, undulating, feline strut. She steadfastly avowed that, while dates had taken her out to dinner many times before, she had never been to this place, nor caused this much of a reaction before. I found that hard to believe, coming from a woman as drop-dead gorgeous as my companion. Still, I couldn't begin to describe how proud I was to have the fabulous brunette by my side and told her so.

"There you go again, Baby," she murmured, "pushing all the right buttons. A girl could get used to this."

"I'm counting on it," I smirked, as I seated her, then took my own chair.

She feigned a pique of indignation.

"Do you think you can buy my affections so easily?" she probed pointedly.

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled good-naturedly, and held up both hands, palms up, in a classic Who, me? gesture. She smiled, winked, then squeezed one hand in hers.

"Well, it's working," she continued. "Don't stop. I enjoy being pampered in the manner to which I hope to become accustomed. Seriously, there are no words to express what this day has meant to me. No one has ever, ever indulged me this lavishly, whatever their motive. This goes way beyond Pretty Woman."

"You don't have a fire escape," I pointed out, "and I haven't whisked you away in a limo yet."

"No?" She countered. "What do you call that little runabout we have been tooling around in all day? Should I expect to see a 'My other car is a Gulfstream V' bumper sticker in an attempt to really impress me?"

"Hmmm," I mulled. "Well, if that's what it takes...."

Dianna affected a glare of pure venom, then smiled and took my hand in both of hers.

"Stop that!" she asserted. "I meant what I said; the lingerie, corset, dress, heels, jewels, salon, and that fabulous fur... I adore every stitch, strand, and pelt – and adore you for treating me like a goddess."

"I'm glad you are enjoying it," I asserted. "You wear it all so well."

Under the table, she casually stroked the inside of my leg with her sandal-clad foot.

"Speaking of which," she smirked, "I am going quietly crazy thinking of you sitting there in lingerie, corset, and stockings – just for me. Your big, beautiful titties thrust out so alluringly."

That embarrassed me. I envisioned every other diner in the room undressing me with their eyes, reveling in my lurid secret. Dianna read my thoughts. She smiled, shook her head imperceptively, and squeezed my hand reassuringly. 

"No, they can't see them," she confided, "although I would really like them to. Even without makeup and a dress, you are stunning. I have this irresistible urge to reach across the table, unbutton your coat, then unbutton the top three buttons of your blouse, spread the lapels wide, and show off your deep, luscious cleavage. I want the whole, wide world to know you are my little bimbo, and that you are doing all this for me."

"Do you really mean that?" I questioned. "I mean, we have known each other such a short time...."

"A week, a month, a lifetime," she interjected, "it makes no difference. Lisa – and I will call you that from now on – I have been with dozens, hundreds of men. None of them, no matter how important, how wealthy, how big, do to me, for me, what you do. When it's right, it's right; you just know it. How do you feel?"

"It's... I don't know what to say," I expressed. This is all so new, so... vastly different than anything I have ever experienced before. I should be... ashamed, angry, something."

Dianna surreptitiously placed one hand in my lap and massaged my inner thigh.

"Uh-huh," she cooed. "Then why is your cock so hard, it is threatening to rip right through your pants?"

I couldn't argue with that.

"That's just it," I replied, searching for the right words. "It is so daring, wicked, depraved, and... well, scary. As I said, I couldn't get you out of my mind all week. Since last night, I have been on an incredible, non-stop thrill ride. All this emotion, yet I hardly know anything about you. I feel like I want to... inhale everything I possibly can, to learn what makes you, you. I mean... who were you, before all this?"

I instantly regretted my words. Her eyes flashed in anger.

"What difference does that make?" she hissed. "I am not that person anymore. I never really was. I have spent my entire life wishing, dreaming, scheming, then busting my butt to become who you see before you. This is who I am, who I have always been in my heart. If there is anything you don't like about me, Sugar, get out now. I have done all the changing I am going to do."

It was time to do industrial-strength damage control. I surreptitiously reached under the tablecloth, up her skirt, found her engorged clit inside the calfskin thong, and massaged it gently. As I had hoped, the sensuous hide, rubbing against her sensitive parts, had an erotic effect. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes glazed over.

"I'm deeply sorry, Honey," I apologized. "I meant no disrespect. I feel like I've known you forever, but it's been barely more than a week. I am just getting out of a bad relationship. I didn't expect to have everything I have ever wanted – things I didn't even know I wanted – dropped in my lap so soon. I am desperately afraid the clock is going to strike Midnight and I will turn back into a pumpkin."

Dianna considered my words for a moment. Perhaps it was the words themselves, or my tone of voice. Perhaps it was the earnest look in my eyes. Whatever the clue, her visage softened. Her whole body relaxed, allowing my ministrations to have the desired effect.

"I'm sorry, too," she intoned. "I feel exactly the same way. I am just so used to tricks throwing my past in my face, as though I was something less than human. I didn't expect you to be the person you are, either. Sometimes we just get lucky. Now that we have – both of us – I don't ever want to be without you again."

I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I smiled and squeezed her hand.

"I just don't see what you see in me," I lamented, "compared to the other guys you have known."

"Don't worry," Dianna mused, "you will."

"Would you really want me as 'Lisa'?" I inquired.

She squeezed my hand back authoritatively.

"As far as I'm concerned," my companion avowed, "you already are, just as I have always been the 'me' you see before you. Paul saw that in you, too, and he is a great judge of femininity - for a man. Kitty has seen to that. They have a very kinky relationship – just like us. The task before us is to help the conscious 'you' catch up with the sub-conscious 'you' – that is, if you are willing."

"How far will we go with this?" I asked nervously.

My lover merely shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled coyly.

"Who knows?" she observed. "I have transformed boys into girls before – and enjoyed the results along the way. Then, I was doing it to help them attain their own goals for femininity, just as I had. This is the first time I have had an emotional stake in the process. There are certain things you will need to do and learn if you want to model with me. I already know what to do about that. As for the rest... I honestly don't know yet how much I – we – will want to do. We will just have to make up the rules as we go."

Her foot casually stroked my stocking-clad leg under the table in emphasis.

"I do know," my lover stated with authority, "we have come a long way in a very short time."

"But what if we go so far that my cock, well...."

I didn't know how to continue that line of thought in words. It was so extreme. Yet, I knew it was at least a possibility. Dianna's eyes twinkled.

"Would you like that?" She inquired playfully. "Would you like to be my soft, submissive little sissy? I can make it happen. I think that would be sooooooo exciting...."

"No, no, no," I gushed - a little too quickly. "I was just asking 'what if?' I know I can please you without it, but... well, wouldn't you miss having a cock fill you?"

My companion turned serious and took a deep breath.

"Listen to me very carefully, Lisa," she intoned. "I don't want there to be any mistake or misunderstanding between us. If I want cock, I will have cock. That... won't... change. I am what I am and I will do what I do. That won't change, either. Cock doesn't define my personal relationships; it is merely my business. As it happens, it is also a need, like eating sleeping, and breathing. I can satisfy my needs anywhere. You satisfy my wants, my desires. 

"Your 'equipment', or possible future lack thereof, is inconsequential. You have already proven beyond doubt you can satisfy me in ways no cock ever could or ever will. In turn, we have proven I can satisfy your desires quite nicely. Do not get stuck on stupid about me having sex with men. They are no threat to you, to us. I may not always be in a position to tell you about it beforehand. If I'm dating, or see a guy who makes me ooze, I will have him; that's what I do. I promise I will tell you about it later – not because I want you to feel jealous or hurt, but because I want you to be as excited, as turned on by it as I am."

Something she had just said suddenly struck home: Do not get stuck on stupid about me having sex with men. She hadn't said 'other men', meaning she no longer pictured me as one – if she ever had. This was all happening so fast....

"You won't have to date if you are with me," I countered, suddenly feeling insecure.

"Baby, I don't have to date now," she retorted. "That is the 'man' in you talking. I could have accepted the offer of any one of a hundred Sugar Daddies who all wanted me as their 'kept woman'. Every one of them was as insecure of me as you apparently still are. I will help you get over that. Right now, you have to trust that this – you – are what I want."

Dinner was exquisite, although I didn't eat much of it. Forget pills, points, carb-counting and even gastric by-pass. If you really want to lose weight, try strict corseting. I couldn't hold a tenth of what I normally eat before I felt sated. The company was sublime, of course. All my attention was on the ravishing brunette before me, not my plate. All I could think of was that spectacular body in the firm embrace of the even more spectacular corset. She was so lush, ripe, nubile, and wanted only me. Beneath my now-ill-fitting suit, I had been transformed into something equally lush, ripe, and nubile for her and her alone. Every touch, gesture, longing gaze punctuated those simple truths.

The look of sheer bliss on Dianna's face as she slipped her arms into the comforting embrace of her fur coat was a genuine 'Kodak moment'. I bundled the coat around her, hooked the two inner hook closures, then cinched the belt. I had not seen such a look of sheer contentment and utter love in a good, long time. She slipped her arm through mine.

"Ready?" I asked.

"More than words can ever express," she replied. "I need you now!"

We were standing at the valet station, waiting for the valet to bring the car around. Just then, a brand-new Corvette Z06 pulled up in front of us. One valet hurried around the front end to stand by the door as it popped open. The driver exited the coupe and stood to his full height, dwarfing both Dianna and myself. When he turned, neither of us had any doubt of his identity. It was Jeff Spencer. The valet captain opened the passenger door and held his hand out to help the occupant to her feet. Of course, it was Susan.

The four of us stood still, silently staring. Jeff saw Dianna right away, then glanced at me. His next glance was at the back of Susan's head. Even I could read the trace of apprehension in his eyes. Susan's eyes locked on mine immediately, then shifted to my companion. She took it all in; the looks, hair, makeup, crimson talons, jewels, and that exquisite Silver Fox coat. Her jaw clenched so tightly, I could hear her teeth grinding together. Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. Pure, intense hate radiated from every pore. Dianna missed none of it. Instinctively, she pulled me closer to her – marking her territory. Her demeanor was pure Attitude, as only a T-girl can do.

"Get out of my face, Bitch," she hissed. "You can have your bionic pony boy. This one is all mine."

"Like Hell he is!" Susan spat furiously. 

At that moment, the Benz pulled up behind the 'Vette. I wordlessly pivoted on my heel, turning my back on my cheating spouse, and led Dianna to the passenger side.

"Lance! Lance! Turn around when I am speaking to you, you bastard!"

That was all I needed to hear. She cheated on me and was calling me names, giving me attitude? Fuck that! I tipped the valet, slipped behind the wheel, slammed the door and pulled out, completely dissing the cunt and her stupefied stallion. After seeing the expression on his face, I doubted sincerely Jeff would tell Susan anything probative about Dianna. How could he, without giving himself away?

Dianna sat trembling; whether from fear or rage, I couldn't tell. We were silent until we crossed Division.

"Let me guess," Dianna threw out into the air. "That was..."

"...my soon-to-be-ex," I finished. "I moved out Monday and filed the next day. Now, I won't have the slightest hesitation to end it altogether."

"She cheated on you with... Jeff Spencer," my lover stated carefully.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"How long?" she inquired.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "A few months, at least; perhaps longer. I had my suspicions, but found out for certain ten days ago."

"Before you met me," Dianna emphasized.

"Before I met you," I concurred.

"But you left her after we were together."

"Yes."

"Did you leave her because of me?"

"I left her because of her. You were the catalyst."

"Explain."

"For eight years, my sun rose and set on my wife. She was my world; I never considered another woman. When I found out what she was doing behind my back, I was crushed. I had to just get out, get away. I had heard about Ringers through a third party. I can't explain why I showed up Friday night; I just did. I can't explain where I found the nerve to approach you; I just did. No one was more surprised than me we ended up back at your place. I honestly did not intend to have sex with you or anyone else that night.

"When I left your apartment, I felt hurt, humiliated, used, just as Susan had done. I didn't go home at all last weekend. I couldn't face anyone. But the damnedest thing happened. I could not get you out of my mind. You haunted my dreams and my waking thoughts. I know; it's crazy. I don't want to come across as some kind of obsessed stalker, either. The best way I can put it is this: you liberated me from my emotional dependency on Susan. You made me realize I didn't have to stay in an abusive relationship, that I could have feelings for someone else – and she could have feelings for me."

"You could have feelings – for someone you perceived to have abused you," she rebutted. "Isn't that what they call Masochism?"

"My perception was based on the values of the culture in which I live. Dianna, I don't want to sound facetious, but you are unlike any woman I have ever known before. Expressing my desire for you in a physical sense, and accepting yours for me, requires an adjustment for me. That is all it is; just an adjustment. For you, what we did together – what we did again last night – is no different than what lovers of any gender have been doing as long as there have been lovers. This is all new to me; it took me until last night to figure it out. That is why I surrendered to you again. Once I was able to let go of my knee-jerk hetero preconceptions, I realized that you were expressing your love for me, giving me pleasure, just as I had pleasured you. That you came with me made it so much sweeter."

"Thank you," Dianna expressed quietly. "That was beautifully put. You know, you could have been right the first time. I could just be abusing you."

"I had a choice to make," I observed. "I chose to believe otherwise. I will live with the consequences."

"Can you?" She asked pointedly. "There will certainly be consequences of loving me. We have already spoken of them. You know what I like. You know what I am like. We – I – need to be clear on this before we go any further. Can you be in a relationship with me, knowing what it might... probably will be like?"

I shrugged my shoulders a little in the darkness. I don't know if she even saw the gesture.

"I really don't know. There are no guarantees for any relationship anymore. No one knows that better than me."

The exquisite brunette was silent for a few minutes, digesting this new data. I was afraid she was going to draw the connection between Jeff and herself and ask for more detail about why I had shown up at Ringers in the first place. I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. Fortunately, she did not voice the words.




Betrayed Ch. 03



Proofread by Ton8ty. Thank you for all the effort and hard work.

=======================

Angela crawled through the rooms to the door leading downstairs.

"Stop," ordered Mike. "You'll wait right here."

Angela stopped, knelt at the door and looked down the darkened steps wondering how she was going to navigate them. She heard him leave the kitchen and then return. 

"Stand up and walk down the stairs," Mike commanded.

Angela obeyed, stood and walked down the flight of stairs. She knelt on the floor at the bottom awaiting Master Michael to descend. To her surprise, a slave came down the steps in front of Master Michael.

"Crawl," Mike commanded again.

Angela once again crawled, making her way back to the room in which she had been held. She stopped a few feet inside the door and knelt to await his orders. Master Michael grabbed her braid, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I'll see to your punishment for last night's offense; you will eat afterward before we proceed to your regular punishment." He let go of her braid, "Same place you were yesterday, slut."

Angela crawled over to the spreader bars she had been bound to the previous day. Master Michael came over, attaching her ankles and wrists. He activated the winch; it slowly pulled her to stand and then stretched her to balance on her toes. She was careful to keep her eyes downcast.

Master Michael lifted her chin firmly so she could gaze into his eyes. "See my slut over there?" he began, turning Angela's head so she could momentarily look at Cindy and then back to him. "She knows her place, obeys and pleases me." Angela felt his words like mortal wounds to her heart and fought the tears that were forming.

"Cindy, come here," said Master Michael.

Cindy crossed quickly and knelt at his feet. "Look at her, Cindy," said Master Michael.

Cindy raised her head, looking up at the suspended slave; curiosity ate at her, wondering who she was, but she voiced no question. Mike went to a nearby wall, took down a wide leather flogger and smiled as he ran it through his hand.

"Cindy, did Master Samuel tell you anything about me?" Mike asked.

"Only that I was for you, to serve you well and please you in any way you wished," she replied.

Mike smiled at her response. "This slut you're looking at had me imprisoned for three years because she lied and told the police I had kidnapped and tortured her."

Anger flared through Cindy. She wondered how this woman could have committed such a heinous crime against her Master. She unconsciously curled her nails into claws, wanting to kill her.

Mike saw the hatred contorting Cindy's face. "What are you feeling, Cindy?"

"Forgive me, Master Michael, but I want to kill her for doing that to you," she said still boring her angry eyes into Angela's.

Mike smiled and laughed a little at her answer. "You will not; she is mine to punish."

Cindy blushed, but kept her gaze firmly on Angela's face, "Yes, Master Michael."

"I understand you were very skillfully trained, Cindy. What was the punishment for a sub masturbating without permission?" Mike asked.

"The punishment, Master Michael, was twenty-five stripes," she replied.

"Twenty-five it is then," said Mike. "Angela, you will count out each one and thank me properly."

"Yes, Master Michael," said Angela.

"Cindy, you will count out loud to twenty-five slowly between each stripe. I do not wish to have her to orgasm from the pain," Mike said calmly.

"As you wish, Master Michael," said Cindy.

Mike drew back his arm and struck Angela at hip level. The leather struck her hip and curled around to her ass cheek. Angela screamed moments after the leather came into contact with her skin. Cindy started to slowly count to twenty-five. He smiled at the wide welt forming on Angela's pale skin.

Angela shook for a moment from the cruel lash. "One, thank you, Master Michael," she said, still trying to catch her breath and feeling the wetness starting to gather in her pussy.

Mike switched hands and aimed next at Angela's other hip. The punishment continued, slow and metered. Cindy slowly counted to twenty-five; Angela gulped in air and thanked him after each blow.

He slowly circled Angela's body like an artist deciding how to perfect his art. He took aim again, landing the leather across the back of her upper thighs and butt cheeks. Once again the agonizingly slowly paced punishment continued and the wide welts crisscrossed Angela's body. Mike's last stroke placed a wide welt across Angela's breasts and nipples. She screamed loud and long, her shoulders heaving, as the tears flowed down her face. 

"Twenty-five, thank you, Master Michael," she said in a voice cracked and raw. Her orgasm had been building and her cunt throbbed insistently.

Mike stood back, admiring each mark, and smiled. His skill had not diminished during his incarceration and her skin had not been broken. She would feel each welt for the next few days.

"Come stand before her, Cindy. Angela you will look at Cindy until I tell you otherwise," Mike ordered.

Cindy moved to stand in front of Angela. Mike removed his clothes, freeing his hard cock. He stepped behind Cindy and turned her body sideways so Angela could see him take his slut from behind.

Mike cupped Cindy's breasts, his fingers pinching and tweaking her hard nipples, causing Cindy to moan. "Bend over and hold your ankles, Cindy," Mike commanded.

Cindy did as directed and Mike slid his hard cock into her hot dripping pussy. She gave a low moan as he started to slowly fuck in and out of her. Mike watched Angela's face impassively as he fucked his slut.

Angela's eyes showed her longing. She wanted to feel Master Michael's hands caress her body; her pussy was throbbing, wanting to feel his hard cock inside of her. 

Cindy moaned again and thrust back onto Mike's cock, "Master Michael, permission to cum," she pleaded.

"Yes Cindy, cum on my cock," said Mike. 

Cindy's body shook and trembled through her orgasm while he kept a slow steady pace, always watching Angela's face. When Cindy was working toward her second orgasm, Mike increased his tempo. He grabbed her hips and started to pound harder and faster, feeling his balls tighten.

"Cum when I cum, Cindy," Mike said. He stroked a couple more times and lunged hard and deep into her pussy, pumping his hot cum into its depths. Cindy's orgasm was even harder this time and Mike wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her steady, while she calmed.

Cindy took deep breaths, trying to calm down. When she succeeded, she knelt before Mike. "Thank you, Master Michael. May I clean your cock for you?"

Mike smiled, while still watching Angela's anguished face, "Yes, Cindy."

Cindy smiled and took his cock into her mouth, washing it clean of their combined juices before gently removing it. "Thank you, Master Michael." 

Mike smiled, "You're a good slut, Cindy. Go now and tell Ellen to bring Angela's meal to her and clean yourself up."

"Yes, Master Michael." Cindy stood, cast an angry smirk at Angela and left the room.

Mike had not taken his gaze from Angela's face, so he didn't notice Cindy's reaction. Angela returned his look with sadness and longing in her eyes. She wanted to feel his hands touch and caress her skin and his cock deep inside her pussy more than anything.

Mike turned away from her and sat down to await the arrival of her meal. Angela hung her head and cried, letting a sob escape her lips; she could no longer look at his impassive face. 'It's entirely my fault!' her mind cried in agony. She wept until she no longer could shed any tears.

Mike watched until she stopped. He walked over to her and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "What have you learned?"

Angela stared into his eyes sadly, "It's my fault and I deserve your punishment, Master Michael."

Mike stared at her intently, "And?"

"I need to work hard to learn my place like Cindy in order to please you Master Michael," said Angela.

Mikes grip became firmer, "And?!"

"I need to forget my own pleasure and to only concentrate and focus on my Master's desires," said Angela, brokenly casting her eyes down.

"Good, it's a start," said Mike as he released her chin. He turned to walk back to the chair and saw Sam in the doorway. Mike smiled, crossed over to him and they stepped out into the cellar.

Sam smiled, "I was watching. What do you have planned for later?"

"First, to have her eat and then clean her up," said Mike. "I thought Ellen would be here by now with her meal. What's taking so long?"

Sam stared questioningly at Mike, "What do you mean?"

"I ordered Cindy to tell Ellen to bring her meal," said Mike.

"I was in the monitor room. I saw Cindy come up to the kitchen, but she didn't speak with Ellen. She went straight to her room and took a shower," said Sam angrily. 

Mike's fist clenched and his jaw set. He spoke in a cold angry voice, "Tell Ellen to bring Angela food and drag that slut down here."

Sam nodded his head and left. Mike re-entered the room and crossed over to Angela. He removed her from the spreaders; she knelt on the floor. "Crawl over to the side of your cage and wait there."

Angela crawled over to the cage and knelt down, waiting for further instructions. Mike sat back down in the chair, looking at her. "Your meal will be here shortly. I expect you to eat all of it very slowly. You'll need to be strong to overcome your faults."

"Yes, Master Michael," said Angela.

Ellen arrived shortly with a tray of food and waited for Master Michael's instructions.

"Give her the tray, Ellen," said Mike.

She crossed over, and set the tray down in front of Angela and then went to Mike and knelt on the floor at his feet. Angela started to eat the food slowly, as instructed. She was half-way through when Master Samuel dragged Cindy in by her hair and threw her on the ground. Cindy crouched in a kneeling position in fear and started to tremble.

Mike crossed over to Cindy and grabbed her hair. "You dared defy me after I gave you pleasure, slut?!"

"I'm sorry, Master Michael, but she doesn't deserve to be here," she said with fear in her voice.

"That's not your decision, nor did I ask for your opinion!" Mike said coldly and harshly. "You deliberately disobeyed my order. You thought you were her better, but your actions have shown that you are just like her!"

Mike dragged Cindy over to the spreader bars and attached her stretching her upright to stand on her toes. He picked the flogger off the floor where he had dropped it and quickly laid a welt across her breasts, making her nipples stand out hard and erect. Cindy threw her head back and screamed as the pain shot through her.

"You will receive the exact same punishment that slut did," said Mike as he began to crisscross her body with welts identical to Angela's, each metered and slow, bringing no pleasurable pain.

Angela stared at her tray and concentrated on eating the rest of her food. She was thankful that, for once, his anger was not directed at her. By the time Cindy received the twenty-fifth stripe, Angela had finished eating. She put her hands behind her back and kept her head bowed.

Mike threw down the flogger, ignoring Cindy's tears. He crossed over to Sam and said something to him. Sam went to a cabinet and took down a metal case and opened it.

He got out his kit, laid it on the counter and brought over a pair of pliers and a long heavy needle. He pinched the tip of her nipple tightly with the pliers, stretched it taut and slowly pierced her nipple, ignoring her cries and pleas. With the needle in place, he returned to the counter, picked up a silver ring and brought it back. He finished pushing the needle through and then threaded in the ring, closing it tightly with the pliers. He worked in the same manner on her other nipple and then left to put away his instruments.

Mike stepped forward, slid his finger through her ring and tugged slightly causing Cindy to moan in pain. "You will wear these always as a reminder that you are a disobeying slut. I will also remember every time I see them."

Cindy started to cry again and hung her head in shame. "Please forgive me, Master Michael," said Cindy.

Mike grabbed her hair and forced her to look into his angry eyes. "My forgiveness is hard earned. It will be long in coming as I now do not trust you as I do not trust this other slut."

"Ellen, take the tray and go upstairs. You have other duties to attend to," said Sam briskly.

"Yes, Master Samuel," She said, taking the empty tray and leaving quickly.

Both men looked over at Angela kneeling with her hands clasp behind her. Sam removed his clothes and walked over to her. "What are you thinking slut?" said Sam.

"That I need to please my Masters so one day I can be forgiven," said Angela quietly.

"And what do you think about Cindy?" asked Sam.

"I do not, Master. I only think of pleasing you," she said quietly again.

"Stand and bend over so I can use your cunt; you will not cum!" ordered Sam.

Angela did as she was directed and a warm glow infused her body when Master Samuel plunged his cock into her aching pussy. For once, she ignored her body, concentrating on squeezing his cock with her vaginal muscles to give him pleasure.

Sam pounded into her pussy hard and fast. His cock had been rigid and throbbing for the last thirty minutes. Finally, he felt his balls tighten, signaling his orgasm. He plunged hard one final time, released his cum into her pussy and then removed his cock. Angela surprised him by asking, "Permission to clean your cock Master Samuel?" 

"Clean it," said Sam.

Angela turned, knelt down and gently cleaned his softening cock. She removed her mouth, clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head. "Thank you, Master Samuel."

Sam nodded at Mike, gathered his clothes and then left the room.

Mike looked over at Angela, his face no longer impassive. "Walk to the shower, Angela, and get in. It's time to get you cleaned up."

Angela stood, walked over to the shower and stepped inside. She noticed the restraint clips embedded into the walls.

Mike stepped inside and clipped her wrists and ankles in place. He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Angela gasped when the first jet of cold water hit her body, causing her welts to ache. When the water turned warm, she closed her eyes and concentrated on ignoring the pain which might make her orgasm.

Mike soaped a sponge and began washing her body. He watched her face, knowing she was fighting her own body's response to the stimulation of the pain and pleasure she was receiving. He undid her hair and shampooed it. Taking the hand held shower off the wall, he rinsed her thoroughly before shutting the water off. He left and returned with a towel to dry her off. 

Angela felt better and revived, now that she was clean. As Master Michael dried off her body, she could feel her orgasm mount. Her body stiffened, fighting the urge to give into the pleasure. Her fingers splayed open and she pulled tightly against the restraint as she gasped. Her face contorted in agony; she didn't want to orgasm ... didn't want to fail Master Michael. Unfortunately, the combination was causing her stomach to cramp and she felt sick.

"Master Michael, I think I'm going to be sick," Angela said quietly as her body began to shake and her face turned ashen.

Mike looked up at her words, quickly released her and got her to the toilet. She collapsed beside it and proceeded to empty her stomach. Mike realized that he had pushed her too much. He knelt down and gently rubbed between her shoulder blades. When she had finished, he handed her a cup of water to rinse her mouth.

Angela felt cold all over and couldn't seem to control the shaking in her body. She was thankful that Master Michael had given her the water to rinse her mouth. When she was done, she tried to hand the cup back. The room swam before her eyes and she wasn't aware that she dropped it.

Mike caught Angela just before she collapsed so she wouldn't injure herself. He wasn't even aware that Sam had re-entered the room until he knelt down beside him. "I'll have to back her away gradually until she can cope; it was too much for her" said Mike. He quickly glanced over at Cindy, hanging in the center of the room and then back at Angela. "She can sleep in Cindy's bed tonight."

Sam followed his gaze. "What about Cindy?"

"The cage," said Mike.

Mike gathered Angela in his arms and carried her upstairs. He laid her gently on the bed and stood looking at her. 'Just like a drug addict' he thought. He covered her with a blanket, left the room and locked the door.

He joined Sam in the living room. Sam had brought up his clothes and he proceeded to get dressed.

"I put Cindy in the cage," said Sam.

Mike nodded his approval, finished getting dressed and sat on the couch. "She's going to need to orgasm occasionally. She did really well throughout, but her system went into overload." Mike sighed, "As soon as she wakes, she needs to get some fluids into her. I wasn't aware of how dehydrated she was."

"Cindy's actions surprised me," said Sam. "Maybe I was too lenient with her. She felt too secure or else she wouldn't have thought she could get away with it."

Anger clouded Mike's face, "That's going to change now."

"Do you want her replaced?" said Sam.

"No, she's going to find out that she's now the lowest slave slut and will have to work hard to regain any position," said Mike.

Mike sighed heavily, "I need to go into town and pick up a few things; we'll have to doctor Angela ourselves.

Sam stood up, "Let's get going then. It's a long drive there and back. Let's give Ellen her orders first."

Mike stood and they both walked upstairs. Ellen was in Sam's room tidying it up. She stopped and crossed quickly, kneeling at their feet.

"Do not open her door and do not go downstairs," commanded Sam. "We're leaving now and should be back by late afternoon."

"Yes, Masters. Is there anything special you would like for dinner?" Ellen inquired.

"I trust your judgment. You're a good cook," said Sam.

"Thank you, Masters. All will be done as you commanded," said Ellen with a smile.

The two men left the room and the house. Mike looked up at the sun and across the unobstructed view of the property. He commented to Sam how good it felt to be free and Sam smiled. They got into the car and left. 



Betrayed Ch. 03



If I was a swearing person I would be forgiven for saying 'the bastard has betrayed me again!' but I don't swear, although under the circumstances I just might take it up.

The reason for this came about after I'd put my reputation on the line to save my father, Pastor William Williams (name courtesy of his Welsh heritage) from the scandal involving his appearance in a porn video made before I was born. I interceded and got him a second chance with the church Elders and he was allowed back into the church ministry albeit in a slightly reduced probationary role. Now I've just found out that he lied to me when he told me that his fornication with Celia on that video was a one off event and that he had been a true and faithful husband and father ever since. But he hadn't, his liaison with her had been ongoing and, when he was reinstated he decided not to risk any repetition by dumping her, a bad move as it turned out.

"I think that you'd better tell me the whole story from start to finish." I told Andrew, my boss, lover and future husband, the bearer of this revelation.

"I've only just found out most of it myself, her Stat Dec goes on for pages. Okay, from the beginning, Celia is much older than I am, twelve years older in fact, although she looks a similar age to me. I must have been eight or nine when this first happened, she was working her way through her Business Admin course by taking casual jobs, or so I thought. Her main source of income came from the porn industry, the waitress job was only a front that my cousin set up to recruit partners for her on-screen activities. When she met and had sex with your father something changed in her, she gave the porn industry away and found work elsewhere until she'd finished her studies and was given a job in the office of the family retail chain."

"When I'd completed my studies, my father was looking for a suitable place for me and Celia convinced him that I should take over the store here, and that she'd come with me to support me. Little did I know at the time that she had an ulterior motive and that was so that she could be close to your father and continue their affair. Although we lived in the same house she could come and go as she pleased without me being any the wiser and she could also entertain guests without disturbing me. It appears that many nights when he was supposed to be in church working on his sermons he was with her getting inspiration from her."

"He had told her that he would leave his wife and marry her when the time was right, but it never seemed to be the right time. She was getting impatient and sought to stir things up a bit. It was she that uploaded that video onto the Web, she figured that there would have to be someone around here that trolled these sites looking for this sort of thing. I think that it might even have been her that alerted Rob to the existence of the video but I can't be sure of that. She had it worked out that if she were to destroy his career it would destroy his marriage and she'd have him for himself."

"But by doing this she's destroyed everything, his life, my mother's, her own and probably even yours and mine."

"She hasn't destroyed ours, we can rise above all of this, and we'll support your mother."

"I don't see how, I put my reputation on the line to get him back in with the church and now, because of this, my reputation means nothing to them."

"Ruth, Darling, we will overcome this believe me. It wasn't you that caused all of this, you had faith and surely the church will understand the meaning of faith. Faith is a belief in the intangible, in something, without proof of its truth, and the church has faith in spades. It has suspended reason by having faith in something that has been proven to be untrue, simply because it has been told to ignore anything that disagrees with its beliefs."

"This sounds strange coming from someone who, only weeks ago, was an important part of the church."

"I was an important part of the administration of the church, it was my job, but I didn't, I don't, necessarily believe in everything that they believe. Do you know the reason why I don't believe everything that the church tells me?"

"No."

"Because I haven't totally suspended my desire to learn just because I've been told that I should. I continue to explore what science teaches us about our world and where it began and where it's heading. I don't believe in the Creation Myth because that is based on man's knowledge of science at the time that the Bible was written. We have moved ahead in our scientific knowledge since then despite the writings of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, a man held up in great esteem by the Creationists, who told them that if science disagrees with the Bible then science is automatically wrong. The Old Testament is a history of man's relationship with God, and is based on legends that have one thing in common. They are all morality tales designed to show the Children of Israel the folly of disobeying the laws of God. But the Old Testament laws were written by man, not God and the Bible even tells us that."

"Even the events of the Old Testament have been proven to be a figment of someone's imagination. Recent archaeological discoveries in Egypt and Canaan have revealed that an event held sacred by Jews and Christians alike, the Exodus, did not happen. There is no evidence of a significant slave presence in Ramesi where the Bible tells us that the children of Israel were supposed to have been held captive, certainly not in the numbers quoted in the Bible. Excavations in Jericho, the site of Joshua's 'triumph' did reveal the destruction of the city walls, but this has been dated at over a thousand years before Joshua and his army arrived."

"I have to say that, just because the current body of evidence would yell at us to discount everything in the Bible, that we shouldn't abandon it totally. The single most important part of the Bible holds true regardless, and that is the Two Commandments of Jesus in the New Testament, which if you look closely at them are a distillation of the Ten Commandments of the Old Testament; you are to love God, and it doesn't matter if you call him or her God or Yahweh or Allah, with all your heart soul and spirit and to love your neighbour, in the universal context, as yourself. That is the core truth of the Bible, the rest is window dressing, but try and tell the church leaders that. They will not accept any truth other than their own, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Believe me I've wasted a lot of time head-butting that particular brick wall."

"You sound as if you would have no compunction about destroying the church."

"No, that's not true. I would like to see a fundamental shift in church ideology based on the dynamic nature of our scientific knowledge, and our personal and not institutional relationship with God. There is a reason for the existence of churches and that is largely social, a place where like-minded people can meet and discuss, with hopefully open minds, their beliefs and to support each other in times of need. How many churches do you know of have a strong social welfare agenda? Certainly not the so called evangelical churches, they are all about exclusion, if you don't follow their rules you won't get to heaven, rather than the inclusion that Jesus taught. Even their liturgy is egoistic, they pray in tongues that no-one understands and say that only God needs to understand it. But the Bible tells us that God knows what we pray even before we pray it, so what's the point? Their worship practices are all about a public display of conformity to their rules, not about God and what he wants."

"Wow, this is the first time I've ever heard anyone who so critical of the church, you must have been hurt badly by it."

"Yes I was. When I was much younger I was going with a girl who went to one of those churches. We had reached the point in our relationship where we were considering marriage but she had reservations based on the fact that I didn't go to church. She arranged for me to meet with the Pastor of her church to discuss the situation. At that time I sort of considered myself to be a Christian because I'd been brought up a Christian. Anyhow, he asked me if I believed that the only way to get to Heaven was through Jesus Christ. My answer displeased him, I told him that, as a Christian, I believed that following Jesus was the path to heaven, he seemed pleased at that until I added a little more. I told him that I would not put myself above God by telling Him that He should deny entrance into Heaven to anyone that doesn't believe the same as me." This displeased him so much, that the next Sunday, he preached a sermon directed at my girlfriend about not yoking herself to an unbeliever. She broke off our relationship because of that and refused to see me or discuss it with me. Yes I was hurt, but I got over it."

"Are you saying that, while I might be hurt by the church because of this I should get over it?"

"In a long winded and roundabout way that's exactly what I'm saying to you, and I will help you in any way that I can."

I kissed this man that I loved. "Andrew, I love you so much. You have taken me through all of the things about my beliefs that have bothered me, and have explained them to me in such a way that I understand that my reliance on the church is not absolute and that my personal strength, along with my faith in God, will get me through this."

"Not forgetting a little help from yours truly."

"How could I forget that?" I kissed him again. "What I need right now is to be held by you, kissed by you and made love to by you."

"Can you hold that thought for a minute or two?"

"Why, don't you want to make love to me?"

"I do, more than anything, but we need to contact your mother and ask her over here, she needs to know of the latest developments." I rang Mum and asked her to come over. I tried to sound casual but I think that she knew something was wrong and said that she'd be right over. While I was talking to her Andrew was undressing me and himself and by the time I'd hung up the phone his head was between my legs and he was licking my pussy. "You'll have to hurry, she'll be here in ten minutes."

"I don't like to be rushed. So what if we're still at it when she gets here."

We had finished and cleaned up but Mum still hadn't arrived. "I'm worried, she should have been here by now."

"Try calling her." Andrew said. I tried and got no response.

"I think we should go around and see if everything's okay." I knew in my heart that everything wasn't okay. I don't believe in premonitions and psychic abilities, I do, however believe in gut feelings and my gut was feeling terrible right now. Andrew drove as fast as he could but it wasn't fast enough. Father's car wasn't in the driveway as it normally would have been when we pulled up. I raced inside, the door was unlocked, not a good sign, and I ran for Mum's bedroom. What I saw there filled me with fear, blood on the wall and on the floor of the en-suite. Mum was bleeding badly. "Andrew!" I screamed. He came and saw the mess. 

"Shit, what happened?"

"It looks like Celia must have told Mum what she'd done to him, and Mum confronted him with the news."

"See if you can stop the bleeding while I warn Celia and call the police."

I grabbed a couple of towels and applied pressure bandages to stem the major flows. Andrew came in and knelt beside me. "It looks worse that it is, the worst of the bleeding had stopped and she's been trying to tell me something but she's not coherent at all."

"Police and ambulance are on their way here and I've told them that he's probably heading for Celia."

"I think that he's lost the plot this time. I hate to think what he's intending to do."

I could hear sirens and Andrew went out to show the police and ambulance officers in. Mum was checked out and loaded onto a stretcher with an oxygen mask and a drip in her arm. She was wheeled out to the waiting ambulance and its siren blared away as it left for the Emergency Room.

"Can you tell me what happened here?" One of the policemen asked. 

"Yes. It would appear that my mother has just been told some devastating news about my father. What I assume happened is that she confronted him with it and he beat her up. I, we, believe that he's on his way to confront the source of that news and I shudder to think what he'll do when he gets there. We've warned the woman that he's going to see and also called the police and told them."

"Would you care to give us the details of this news."

"My father is a Pastor and recently I did something terrible to get back at him for something that he did to me. It was the culmination of a lifetime of humiliation that he'd subjected me to. It transpired that I'd got it all wrong and that he was blameless, at least that's what he had me believe. I put my neck on the line and negotiated with the church to reinstate him. It turns out that he lied to me and what I'd thought to have been an isolated incident many years ago has now been revealed to have been going on right up until now. The woman involved has made a public statement refuting his version of events and he's only just found out about it."

"You weren't responsible for that riot at that church a couple of weeks ago when someone slipped a porn video onto the church's big screens during a service?"

"Mea culpa, I cannot tell a lie. I believed him when he told me that what was on the video was the only time that had happened but we've now found out that the two of them have been lovers all of this time. He'd promised to leave my mother for her but the timing was never right. The woman, who is Andrew here's sister, got sick of waiting and following him being forgiven by the church he decided, rather than risk being found out he'd dump her."

"A little late for that don't you think?"

"Yes it was. But then he's been under a lot of strain lately."

"Is this the first time that he's done this to your mother?"

"No, a couple of weeks ago he hit her, but nothing quite as bad as this time."

"When we find him he'll be arrested and charged with assaulting your mother."

"I hope that it's the least of his problems."

"Do you think that he'll do something bad to this woman?"

"Yes." I said before that I didn't believe in premonitions and psychic abilities, I shall have to reassess that belief.

"It looks like we can't do much more until your mother recovers enough to make a statement. If you think of anything give me a call." He handed me a card and turned to go. His phone rang. "Barton. Yes, yes, I see, okay I'm on my way." He terminated the call. "When you contacted the police earlier you mentioned that you thought that your father might be headed for Andrew's house."

"Actually Andrew made the call, but that's where we thought that he was headed, why?"

"He's there, and he's barricaded himself in the house and has threatened that he'll kill himself and the woman inside if we try to beak in."

"I think I'd better get over there, I might be able to talk some sense into him."

"A police negotiator is on his way."

"I still think that I should be there."

"Okay, but you'll have to keep behind the containment lines."

We followed them to Andrew's house and found it surrounded by heavily armoured police and either brave or stupid media without bullet proof jackets."

A man was talking on a mobile phone to my father. "Don't do anything silly, we can work through your problems without resorting to anything that will harm you or anyone else. Just talk to me, tell me what your problems are, I want to help you." I was standing a couple of metres away and even from that distance I could hear him, I couldn't understand what he was saying and I got the impression that the negotiator was unable to make any sense of it. "Just calm down, take a deep breath and calm down, we won't get anywhere until you can calm down. Do you have a weapon of any sort? You have a gun, a shotgun and you're going to use it on anyone that tries to take you. Now where getting somewhere." 

I don't know how he worked that out as a positive, the thought of my father with a weapon of any kind was scaring me.

"Your hostage, is she hurt in any way? No, do you think that we could speak to her. No? That's fine, we don't need to talk with her, you can tell us everything we want to know. Tell me, what is your name? You don't want to tell me, and that's fine." 

"His name's William Williams, I'm his daughter."

"Do you mind if I call you William that seems to be a good name? Your name isn't William? It doesn't really matter but I think I'll still call you that. Tell me William, do you live here? No? Can you tell me where you live, there may be someone there that can help you. You won't tell me? That's fine I don't need to know but isn't there someone who cares for you and you would like to speak to and work something out? No-one cares for you and you don't care for anyone and you don't care about anything anymore. I find that hard to believe because we all have someone who cares for us, we might not think we do in times like this, but there is always someone. It doesn't have to be a family member, I understand if you don't want to talk to family, it could be a friend, a work colleague possibly, but there must be someone." There was more shouting over the phone.

I walked over to the negotiator. "Do you mind if I try to talk to him?"

"You can try but he doesn't seem very rational just now."

"He's been under a lot of strain lately and it just got even worse. I want to try, I need to do something."

"He's all yours." He handed me the phone. 

"Daddy, it's Ruth, I need to talk to you, please listen to me, listen to what I have to say and if when I've finished you still won't talk to me I'll understand. Daddy, I know exactly what it is that you're going through, I've gone through the same thing myself, you feel that the world is laughing at you, and they don't even bother to hide it from you, they laugh at you to your face. It hurts, it hurts very much until you stop and think about it and then you realise that they are afraid of you, they are afraid that you are better than they are and they laugh at you and tease you and say nasty things about you to boost their own self image. Once you come to terms with that you realise that they can't hurt you any more, that you can stand in front of them and say to them that you are no longer hurt by them, that you love them regardless of what they say to you and about you, and the hurtful names that they call you, names like 'geek', and 'fuzzy wuzzy' and 'four eyes', and 'wimp'. Once you realise that these names can't hurt you it gets easy to face them."

"In this world there are people who love you and there are people who hate you, and in between there are an awful lot of people that like you, some more than others. Regardless of their feelings for you, the one thing that you've taught me is that you love them and if you love them you will never do anything to hurt them. Sooner or later you will find out that, because of your love for them, they will, in turn, love you. Somewhere out there are a lot of people that you have helped over the years and now that you need help to get through this speed hump in the road of life, these people will come and help you. I'd like to think that they will help you regardless of the problems you are facing right now, but I'm nothing if not pragmatic, I'm a realist. You will have to do something to tell these people that you aren't over-reacting to a situation, but that you are a rational human being going through a rough patch right now, and that you would appreciate it if they would help you to get through that rough patch. You need to give them that opportunity to repay you for all the help that you've given them. What do you say Daddy, will you come out and let me and all of those others help you?"




Betrayed Ch. 03



We waited, and waited for a response from him. Finally the front door opened and Celia came out. He stood at the door watching as she slowly walked towards us and, just as she reached half distance to the front fence she ran. The instant that she broke into her run his hand came around from behind his back and he raised the shot gun and fired. Celia sprawled face down on the path, her back covered in blood. As she fell he raised the barrel of the gun to his chin but before he could pull the trigger one of the marksmen fired. The bullet took him in the shoulder and spun him around, he dropped the gun and before he could pick it up again several policemen sprinted to where he stood and tackled him to the ground.

An ambulance crew ran to Celia and examined her. "There's a lot of bleeding but it is superficial, she's one lucky lady. Once we get all of the shot out of her and clean her up she'll be fine. She'll have to stay in hospital under observation for a day or two before they release her."

"When will we be able to speak to her?" The policeman asked him.

"That's not for me to say, as soon as the doctor's say it's okay, but my guess is some time after they operate."

"Not exactly the outcome we wanted, but a satisfactory one as it turned out. What was that about facing ridicule and loving people?"

"I'm afraid that I got a little personal there, I was speaking from my own experiences that, with the help of my new 'bestie' and future husband Andrew here I've managed to overcome. I was just hoping that he could see that he isn't alone in his fight against what people will think of him in the situation that he finds himself in."

"What is his situation? We know that he's a pastor in a church and has had a few problems, something to do with a porn video being shown in church and the church forgiving him, but something has happened since then hasn't it?"

"Yes. The problem is that he lied to me and the church when he told us that what they saw on the video was an isolated incident that happened a long time ago and that he'd sought forgiveness from God and my mother and had been given it. It now appears that this was not the one off event, but that he had been having an ongoing affair with the lady in question ever since."

"You don't mean with the porn star?"

"Yes and no. Soon after they had begun the affair she gave up the porn industry. The affair which would have gone on simmering under the surface of his life, came to a head when, following his being forgiven by the church, he dumped her, hoping that by doing that he could prevent anyone finding out about it. She didn't take too kindly to this so she went public with the ongoing affair, she filled out a Stat Dec telling all, and threatened to go to the press with it. I guess that he lost the plot about then and took it out on my mother first, she's in hospital and will be filing charges, I'll see to that. Then he confronted Celia, that's the other woman. I don't know what he hoped to achieve but I think we may have stopped a murder/suicide. I think that he needs psychiatric help."

"We will have him examined before we proceed, he may well be charged under the Mental Health Act as criminally incompetent."

"I just hope that everyone concerned can emerge from this nightmare in one piece."

"We can hope. We will need you to come down to the station and give us a statement. I don't envy you having to go through this in detail but if we are to get to the bottom of all of this we need as much information as we can."

Andrew had been standing by me the whole time and he now took me in his arms, he didn't say anything, just held me tightly and brushed my cheek with his lips. I clutched him to me, I could feel the need to cry welling up inside me. "Just let it go, I've got you." I let it go.

The negotiator stood watching us and when I eventually stopped sobbing he placed a hand on my shoulder. "You are a very lucky young woman to have someone who loves you enough to stand by you in your time of need."

"I know, and I think that he'll be doing a lot of standing by, I need to speak to the church and prepare them for this latest drama."

"Good luck with that."

Luck wasn't all I needed, a hide like a rhinoceros would have come in handy. To say that the Elders were furious was just the start. "What the hell is going on here? First we have you fixing it so that we all saw Pastor Williams caught 'in flagrante delecto' with some whore, then we have you apologising to all and sundry for showing it and confessing to having made a huge mistake and begging us to forgive him, which we did." The mood in the church office then went from disbelief to aggressively unsympathetic to my situation. "We, on your recommendation," the emphasis was on 'my recommendation' as if they had nothing to do with their decision, "allowed him the opportunity to redeem himself, which we did. We allowed him to return to this church in a slightly diminished capacity and now you come here and tell us that not only has he lied to us but that he has assaulted your mother and tried to kill his whore. Did either of you stop to think of the ramifications that your actions will have on this church? We will be lucky to survive this!"

"How do you think I feel? I trusted him because he has always told me that I could. He betrayed that trust, but you care nothing for the damage that this has done to me."

"You convinced us to give him a second chance. It was your fault that we have been embarrassed by this, humiliated by this turn of events."

"Can't you understand that he has deceived me as well? I didn't know that he had maintained the affair with Celia for the best part of twenty years. I knew little of my father, because of his devotion to his work, to this church, he has distanced himself from me."

"We have now found ourselves in damage control. We have to find a way to minimise the fallout from this disaster. Would it be asking too much for you to have no further contact with this church?"

"That's great! Not once have you asked how Mum is, let alone me or Celia or Father, it is all about you, but then that is all this church is about, yourselves and how that you could acquire more wealth and power. A scandal like this would have a negative impact on your bottom line."

I gave up on them and went home to a warm reception. "You have no idea what I've been through today, talk about a roller coaster. To top it all off there was the meeting with the Elders. They couldn't give a stuff about how any of us felt, it was all about them and their finances."

"And you're surprised at that attitude? It comes as no surprise to me. Let's try to forget all about this for tonight."

"I don't think that I can, forget it that is."

"We'll see about that." He kissed me."I love you, I love your lips," he kissed them, "Your eyes," he kissed them too, "Your ears," and those, "your breasts," you guessed it, those as well, "Your glorious pussy," he really went to town on that, first he kissed it and then his tongue explored inside it, and then his cock enjoyed it. And I enjoyed his cock and for a while I forgot all about my problems.

We had only been at work for about an hour when I got a phone call. "Ruth, it's Pastor Lincoln, the Elders would like apologise for our behaviour yesterday and we'd like to speak to you. Could you call by the office at two o'clock this afternoon?"

"Sure, I'll be there." I went into Andrew's office. "The church Elders want to meet with me this afternoon, I would like you to be there, would you?"

"Of course, I want to be there in case they decide to browbeat you into taking full responsibility, publicly if possible, for what has happened. The way I see it is if you confess to having been betrayed by your father they are absolved from responsibility and can carry on regardless. They may lose some of their membership but it will probably return to its present level in a short space of time, at least that's what they are hoping for."

The next call was from the police. "Miss Williams, could you please come down to the station, we need a statement from you to verify what you told us yesterday. Shall we say in one hour?"

"I have a few urgent things to tidy up here that may make me a few minutes late, but I'll get there as soon as I can." I wasn't going to let them browbeat me either, but, on the other hand I didn't want them all trooping into the store, bad for image.

"Why don't you go now, I can't see any problems with you finishing up later."

"Thank you for that, but I didn't want them to push me around either. If you don't mind I'll call by the hospital and see how Mum's getting on."

He kissed me with as much passion as he had last night, and this morning, and I was in danger of forgetting all about Mum. "Go, get out of here and call me as soon as you've seen your mother, I want to know how she's doing as well."

"Thank you my wonderful man." I kissed him and he held me for a little longer than expected, it was almost as if he was as scared about Mum as I was.

I had every reason to be scared. The nurses told me nothing but I caught sight of the doctor coming out of her room. "Doctor, I'm Ruth Williams, your patient's daughter. I was wondering if you could tell me how she's going. Just how bad is it?"

"It's not good. She has been very badly beaten, the face is the least of our worries." I had seen her face, what could be worse than that? "She has three broken ribs so breathing is a problem, she has bruising around her kidneys and that is affecting her urinary tract, she's having trouble peeing. Her assailant, I understand that it was your father, he must have used a weapon of some sort because she has a broken arm and a skull fracture. She is lucky to be alive, if you hadn't found her when you did and called the ambulance straight away I'd hate to think what the outcome would be. Her prognosis is not good, but it is not hopeless."

"Can I see her?"

"You can see her, but she doesn't know where she is, we fear she might have some short term memory loss."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." I was allowed into her room and what I saw made me even more determined to see that my father was charged with assault at the very least, attempted murder would be more appropriate."

I stopped by Celia's room while I was there. She was laying face down, her back covered with dressings. "Hi Celia, how are you feeling?"

"I've had better days. I've been thinking and have come to the conclusion that this is all my fault. If I hadn't fallen in love with your father and wanted to continue the relationship this would never have happened."

"I assume that he was an eager participant, you didn't have to force him, did you?"

"No, there was some hesitation on his part but that didn't last long, I can be quite persuasive when I want to be. Then, when this all blew up, that was my fault as well, I should have been patient for a while longer and not allowed Rob to find out about the video. When it hit the fan, instead of letting it settle down and resuming our affair later, I did something silly and now your mother and I are paying for my stupidity."

"Don't even think that, you weren't to know how he'd react. This is not your fault."

"You are an amazing woman Ruth, you didn't like your father all that much but you put your reputation on the line to save him and his precious job. But he betrayed you. I did something stupid because I didn't like him very much at that time and caused all of this, but still you don't blame me. You are the most Christian person I've ever met."

"Thank you for that, I'll keep it in mind this afternoon when I'm in my meeting with a bunch of Christians at the church."

"Ouch! I feel sorry for you."

"You get better soon, Andrew and I need you to be at our wedding. Gotta dash, I have to give my statement to the police."

"Whoa there girl! What's this I'm hearing, you and baby brother are thinking of tying the knot, I don't believe that, he's never been the type for long term commitment."

"He is now." I left her to ponder over that snippet of news and headed for the police.

"You may as well be prepared for the bad news. If your father is deemed to competent to stand trial he will be charged with two counts of attempted murder. If he's deemed to be incompetent to stand trial because of his mental illness, than we will press for him to be detained in a mental health facility indefinitely. Your statement will go a long way towards making that decision. We will want to ascertain if he knew what he was doing at the time and that his acts were premeditated or if he was unaware of his actions. Now what can you tell us about your father's actions over the past few weeks."

"Before I make a formal statement, I would like to fill you in on the events of the past few weeks. When I've done that you can decide what will constitute an official statement." 

"I have a better idea. We will record all you have to say, the Psychiatrist will be interested in it and will be able to use that as a guide to his determinations. We will filter out what is irrelevant for our purposes and set them out as your formal statement and you can come back in and sign it."

"I guess that will have to do. A few weeks ago my boss, Andrew Hudson, suggested that I should have a make-over. He said that my look at the time was retarding my development as a person. I had to agree with him, so he sent me to the beauty shop in the store. While not totally happy with the outcome, I thought that it was a bit over the top, I was impressed with the new me. My father was not and called me a whole lot of nasty names. I believe that he was scared of losing control over me. Anyhow, I stood up to him and he took it out on me at church the following Sunday. His public humiliation of me was the last straw so I left home and moved into my own apartment. Andrew helped me to move and we, as they say in the classics, became lovers."

"It was later in that week, on the Thursday, that one of the men at work gave me a DVD that showed my father having sex with another woman. The other woman I recognised as Andrew's sister Celia and there was a third person involved that I believed to be Andrew himself. I saw red and resolved to get revenge on all who had humiliated me, so I arranged for the video to be shown on the big screens at church the following Sunday, right when he was on stage giving his talk. The resultant hue and cry was impressive. Father took out his frustrations on Mother because he didn't know where I was living and she came to me to get away from him. I encouraged her to go to the police but she refused."

"Father rang Andrew trying to find Mother and Andrew rang me. He was understandably upset when I accused him of being in the video and pointed out that the male person that I thought was him was a cousin who was in the industry and who had encouraged Celia to make porn videos as a way of making more money. During that week we met with my father who assured us all that this was a once only mistake and that he had remained faithful to my mother from then until now. I spoke to the church Elders who allowed me to address the church the following Sunday, that was Sunday two weeks ago. I put my reputation on the line and pleaded with the church to give my father a second chance, and they did. That, I thought would be the end of it, but I was wrong. He was brilliant last Sunday, back to his fiery best and all seemed to have been resolved, but we didn't reckon on his scorned lover. Yes, they'd remained lovers all of that time. It was because she was getting frustrated in her role as his mistress and his failure to act on his promise to leave my mother for her that she manipulated Rob at work into showing me the video. She knew that I would over-react and she was right. After him being reinstated she threatened to go public with their ongoing affair and that was what instigated this whole mess. She, by the way, is blaming herself for what happened yesterday."

"What a mess. Okay I'll get a transcript to the shrink and see what he can make of it."

"Would it be possible for me to see my father?"

"You may be able to see him but you will not be able to speak to him. Believe me it is not a pretty sight." He rang the Psychiatrist and arranged for me to see my father.

He was right, it wasn't a pretty sight. My father was restrained in a straight jacket and was in a padded room. "We had to restrain him like that because he was trying to harm himself. He has been ranting non-stop, apart from a couple of hours when he just collapsed and slept on the floor, ever since he got here. We can't make sense of what he's been saying, he just seems to be quoting dis-connected passages of scripture. The only reason that we know that it is scripture is that he gives us the reference, but when we check in the Bible, what he's quoting is nothing like what is written in the Bible."

"What he's doing is 'preaching by concordance'."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a fairly widespread practice in certain churches by which you use a Concordance to list all passages of scripture that contain the word that you are using as a basis for your talk. It matters not if these cited texts have no contextual relevance to your message, you throw them out as fast as you can so that people can't keep up with you. It sounds great but means absolutely nothing. If you listen closely you will hear one word used in all cited scriptures and if you can get a transcript of his ranting you will find that there is probably no connection between them. An example is the scriptures cited for the justification of speaking in tongues. When these are taken in the context of the whole passage, or in the case of Paul's letter to the Corinthians in which he devotes four whole chapters to the subject, you will find that not one of them actually supports the practice."

"You don't sound much like a Pastor's daughter."

"How is one of them supposed to sound?"

"You are supposed to support him."

"A couple of months ago I would have, but not now."

"I can tell you that, based on current observations, your father is not competent to stand trial. We will have to wait and see what happens over the next days, or even weeks." 

I left and went in fear and trepidation, to the church. I was shown into the office and confronted by the same table with the assembled Elders. "Thank you for coming Ruth. I must apologise on behalf of all of us here today, for our outbursts of yesterday. We were taken completely by surprise and had little time to compose ourselves before our last meeting. We have had a chance to sit down and think this through and have come up with a proposal that is in the best interests of all parties and which leaves the way open for your father to return to the ministry when he has recovered from this minor setback. All that we need you to do is to sign it as agreeing to what we've said and we can move on."

"When you say move on, what do you have in mind?"

"We were very impressed with your performance the other week and we are going to offer you the position of Associate Pastor in this church. We like your style, it grabbed the crowd. At first you will probably only be asked to give your talk about once a month, but as you gain in confidence and the people get to know you that will increase. It could quite easily be that you will not be seen as keeping your father's seat warm for him, but becoming a regular preacher in your own right. What do you say?"

"I'll have to think about that, it's a major step for me to take. Now can I read your statement." I held out my hand for it. What a load of hypocritical sanctimonious bullshit (pardon the French)!

'The leadership of the Hope Evangelical Christian Church announces the temporary stepping down of our Senior Pastor, Pastor William Williams, due to ill-health. Pastor Williams has been under a great deal of strain due to the increasing demands on his time with his pastoral and spiritual duties. The impact of this has caused him to be involved in a minor incident that occurred when his wife tried to restrain him while he was undergoing what his doctor's have called 'a minor psychotic episode'.' 




Betrayed Ch. 03



'He is at present receiving treatment in a mental health facility and his treating doctors have issued a statement to the effect that; 'with a short break from his onerous workload, he will make a quick and full recovery.''. In the interim his daughter Ruth will assume some of his speaking commitments, and help with his pastoral duties.'

'We wish Pastor Williams a speedy and complete recovery and look forward to welcoming him back."

"So that's it?"

"Yes, just sign here." He indicated where my signature was to go. "And welcome to our ministry."

"I will not sign this, and, as for your job you can stick it right up your sanctimonious arses."

"What? I want you to take some time and think about this church and what it stands for. If you don't sign this, we will be in a great deal of trouble. If you sign, it will indicate to the people that you support our position on this."

"But I don't support your position, you are doing a 'Pontius Pilot act and washing your hands of this whole matter and hoping that it will quietly slip out of people's minds. As for your offer of a job, I would rather live my life as a human, not a hypocrite."

"How dare you call us hypocrites!" It was back to the angry mob.

"I dare because that's exactly what you are. Jesus taught that we are to love one another but what you've shown today has nothing to do with love, it's all about self preservation. You only need to take a look at your teachings. I would never justify them by calling it theology because your theology is that thin you can see through it. . . ."

"We will not sit here and be lectured by you!"

"For instance you claim that the Creation happened exactly as the Bible tells us despite the mounting scientific evidence that disproves the Bible version. . . ."

"We will not listen to you!"

"On the basis that if science disagrees with the Bible then science is wrong. . . ."

"It is wrong! The Bible is the truth and if that is what the Bible says then that is how it happened!"

"You deny the scientific advancements that disprove the Creation myth but improve scientific advancements in such areas as electronics and communications. That phone on this desk, is that the same as the one that Adam used? No. The big video screens in your auditorium, is that the same as the one that Adam and Eve sat down and watched at the end of the day? No."

"How dare you, a Christian, come here and lecture us on the Bible. The Bible is the Word of God and is the truth!"

"So I suppose that you won't accept the recent archaeological discoveries in Egypt and Israel that have confirmed that that wonderful mass escape of the Children of Israel from captivity in Egypt never happened?"

"That's a lie!"

"And that the destruction of the walls of Jericho happened at least a thousand years before Joshua and his trumpeters arrived?"

"All lies!"

"And that the Kingdom of David was nowhere near as big as the Bible would have us believe?"

"We will not sit here and listen to your blasphemy!"

"I can see that I'm wasting my time talking to you, you have your faith in the anecdotal evidence of the Bible, but I prefer to believe in the results of our scientific advances that are based on our use of our God given powers of reason, of our desire to ask the 'how, when, where and why' of our journey through life. I leave you with your dichotomy between the use and ignorance of science." 

I walked out of there feeling much better about myself than I had ever expected. I was ready to take on all the world had to throw against me. But first things first.

I walked into Andrew's office and, before he could react, kissed him with so much passion that it took his breath away. "I want you, right here and right now." I put my finger under the knot of his tie and ripped it off. His shirt followed immediately after that and then I dropped to my knees and dragged his pants down to his ankles. His intake of breath when I sucked his cock deep into my mouth told me that I was in control, totally. When he was fully erect I slipped my panties and pantyhose down and straddled him, rocking back and forth on his cock and kissing him. 

It was all over in minutes. "Phew, I had to get the taint of those bastards out of my system. Now we can get back to making love properly."

"Whatever you say. That was an experience by the way, but one that I have no desire to repeat on a regular basis."

"Whatever YOU say, Boss."



Betrayed Ch. 03



"It doesn't appear she is over you yet," my lover postulated. 

For the first time, I detected a note of uncertainty in her voice. I abruptly pulled over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. In a fit of bravura unlike anything I had been feeling for over a week, I grabbed Dianna's arms and turned her to face me.

"I am over her," I avowed with determination. "Tonight confirmed that. She and I had been together since Senior year in high school. I was never, ever unfaithful to her. She repaid my fidelity by shacking up with the boyfriend she dumped for me. She told me she wanted to be with me because I was a 'winner' and he wasn't. I guess she decided he was the bigger winner after all."

"He's big, all right," Dianna agreed. "I don't necessarily call him a 'winner', though."

My lover held me tightly, resting her head against my chest. My faux titties pressed into the side of her head. She was quiet again, organizing her thoughts.

"I won't be faithful to you, either," she stated quietly. "I told you that already."

I anticipated that, and was ready.

"You are better than faithful," I countered. "You have been honest with me up front. I can now deal with your sexual appetites because we talked it over, explained our feelings for each other, and I can cope with it. They call it 'informed consent'. Susan wasn't honest with me, probably hasn't been from the start. I know she's fucking Jeff Spencer. Who knows how many there have been before him I don't know about? There is no way to know, and now and I don't care to. It's over. I have the better woman right here."

I felt her body swell at the sound of those words; hopefully, with pride. She sat upright and looked me in the eyes resolutely.

"You would choose me over an exquisite GG like that?" my lover queried. "Regardless of what you think she's done? I'm a ho' - with a dick instead of a pussy. What if she feels the same way about cock I do? What if she is still madly in love with you, but just didn't say the words?"

"There is no 'think' about it," I avowed. "I have seen the proof with my own eyes. If she is still madly in love with me but needed outside cock, why didn't she say the words? You did. Words count, Dianna. We are not mind-readers. Sometimes, words are all we have to know what someone is truly feeling. If she didn't say the words, she couldn't have given much consideration to my feelings. That isn't love; that is pure, selfish hedonism. Would I choose you over her? I already have. Funny; until tonight, I never realized just how ugly she really is – where it matters most."

Dianna's eyes were brimming with tears.

"So, you really believe I have been honest with you, unlike... Susan, was it?"

"Yes, it is 'Susan' and yes, I believe you."

She turned away from me to stare out the passenger window. Perhaps she didn't want me to see her cry.

"I hope you will remember that," she offered in a small voice. "Turn right."

"But home is left," I corrected.

"We're not going home yet," she asserted. "Turn right."



Betrayed Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Let The Games Begin

I really wasn't surprised when Dianna directed me into the parking lot at Ringers. It was only a few blocks across town from my new home; a five-minute drive, if the traffic wasn't killing at the time. Consciously, it had not been a factor in my decision to take the new place. Sub-consciously... well, who knows?

"Pop the trunk," she instructed as I shifted into Park.

I complied. She didn't wait for me to get her door. She slid out, stepped to the rear of the car, fished her Capezio bag out of the trunk, then closed the lid with a precise click. I guessed she had had experience with precision-engineered automobiles before. Most people would have slammed the trunk lid; so necessary with American cars. It occurred to me Dianna was the type of girl who attracted a more affluent clientele. She had said she had had her pick of a large number of 'Sugar Daddies' – and turned them all down. I felt blessed.

She shouldered the bag and took my arm in hers.

"Let's go, Sweetie," she chirped brightly.

"Where to?" I responded coyly.

"Your future awaits," she replied, "but we mustn't keep it waiting another minute."

We strolled down the sidewalk, my arm linked through hers, past the usual long line for the second show. The doorman recognized her immediately, greeted her, and waved us through, much to the muttered annoyance of the lost souls waiting in line. They were not amused that the "rich bitch and her husband" were given preferential treatment. "Talent coming through," was all the hired muscle said to placate the throng, who were anything but as we were admitted. We picked our way from the door to the other end of the room, stopping frequently to greet this bartender, that performer, or another 'working girl' or 'date'. Everyone knew Dianna by name – another source of pride on my part, mixed with a touch of awe.

She guided me directly into the performer's dressing room without so much as a knock on the door. Eight or ten gorgeous 'girls' were in various stages of dress, from fully costumed to not at all. Dianna paid no mind to their modesty – or complete lack thereof – any more than they seemed to mind my presence. Of course, everyone had to drool over my lover's dress, shoes, jewelry, and especially her fabulous fur coat. They guessed the source of her newfound beneficence and turned to me appreciatively.

"He's cute," one girl opined, giving me an appreciative once-over. "Sharp dresser, too, although it doesn't seem to fit him very well. What's his name, Honey?"

"His name is Taken," my sweetheart replied cattily.

"Is he your latest husband, Dianna?"

"Not for long, Sugar," Dianna responded sweetly. "Girls, meet Lisa Layne. She is about to become my latest wife. Ladies, a little help, please."

The shrieks and catcalls came fast and furiously. Fully a half-dozen pairs of hands whisked my coat, shirt, tie, shoes, and pants off in the blink of an eye, leaving me in my lingerie, standing in the middle of a hen party.

"Not bad, Dianna," another girl clucked. "No wonder the suit didn't fit. You've already got her in drag. She's got some shape to her."

The girl squeezed one of my fake boobies playfully.

"Oh yeah, she's gonna be a cutie! How do you do it? If you can bottle it, we'll all be rich!"

"In your dreams, Chantal," Dianna countered with a grin. "I just know how to pick 'em. I don't chase everything and anything in pants – like some people I know."

That drew another raucous round of catcalls.

"Now, help me get her dressed and out front," my lover bid them. "We have to start teaching her the ropes."

"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed.

Dianna turned to me, smiling.

"Wait what, Sweetheart?" she trilled.

"Don't I get to say something about this?"

The seductive siren wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled my nose with hers.

"But Baby, you already did," she pouted. "You told me you didn't want to stop. You haven't changed your mind already, have you? I would be so disappointed."

"It's just... I mean..."

Open mouth, insert foot, Bud. It's a little too late to claim you didn't think she was serious. This isn't the sort of thing Dianna would kid about, anyway.

"... I would be embarrassed to death if someone recognized me," I squeaked.

My lover just shook her head back and forth. Her smile was not to be denied; nor was her gentle kiss on my lips.

"You are so silly!" she proclaimed. "I doubt that would be a problem here, but your wish is my command. We will just have to make sure no one can. Who would know more about that than us?"

"What is she gonna wear, Dianna?"

My sweetheart grinned and reached into her shoulder bag.

"This little number right here," she crowed, whipping out her semi-sheer blouse, suede suit and mules. "She loved it on me this afternoon. Now, let's see how it looks on her!"

In less time than it took to describe it, I was in Dianna's outfit from earlier that day. It might not have looked quite as good on me as it had on her, but I was surprised how good it did look – pleasantly surprised. Aside from my lack of makeup and hair, I didn't look like a man in a dress, which I had fully expected. Those previously-mentioned shortcomings did not last for long.

I was shepherded into a reclining salon-style chair and dropped almost to horizontal. A salon apron was draped over my body, covering everything from the neckline down and protecting my clothing from whatever was to come. Then, they really went to work on me. The cast of 'makeup artists' changed constantly as girls came and went for their respective sets on stage. My eyebrows were attacked simultaneously with four or five pairs of tweezers. Individual hairs were ripped out without mercy or so much as a by-your-leave. When, at last, they were satisfied, they examined my complexion for imperfections.

"You are amazing, Sweetie," one girl told me. "Your face is as soft and smooth as a baby's bottom. I just about need a magnifying glass to see your pores. No dark circles or blemishes – I can't even find a trace of a beard!" 

"I hate shaving," I revealed, "body hair, too. It trapped sweat and bacteria and made me smell really nasty after a long run – not to mention it just felt... creepy to me. I had it all removed by laser as soon as I started making money."

"And you've never dressed before?" Chantal asked incredulously. "What a waste!"

That last bit was spoken playfully. They were beginning to warm to me – and I to them. This whole experience seemed so surreal. Barely a week before, I had had only a passing awareness of this world. Now, I was being drawn into it. There were no illusions on my part; had I been by myself, my good looks, slender physique and charm would have amounted to exactly squat to them. My connection to my beautiful lover, whom they obviously held in high esteem, had everything to do with their acceptance of me. 

One girl applied a sheer makeup base to give my skin a little color. She blended it carefully with a fine-pored makeup sponge, then set it with powder and brush. Blush was added to the hollows of my cheekbones, at my temples, and under my jawline. Another drew careful strokes on my forehead above each eye with a soft pencil. My first thought was she might be accentuating my eyebrows, but it felt she was working well above my browline. 

They took a good, long time on my eyes, starting with thick showgirl lashes above and below. Shadow came next; a lot of it, judging by the time it took them to apply it. Liquid eyeliner was painted above and below, too. My lips felt like they were being outlined by yet another pencil. Then, they were filled in with a brush dipped repeatedly in what I saw to be a deep-red lipstick. Once the first coat was smoothed out, a second was applied. Then came a coat of clear gloss. It was so bizarre to feel, know what they were doing, but not be able to see it.

"Are you gonna get these cock mittens pumped, Dianna?" Chantal questioned as she painted my lips.

"Uh-huh," my 'drag mother' intoned. "Cheekbones too – as well as other parts of her anatomy. All in good time."

Meanwhile, other pairs of hands had pinned my wrists to the padded armrests. Something was carefully applied to my fingertips. After a few minutes, several coats of what I suspected was nail polish (once you smell that smell, you never forget it) was brushed on my fingertips. At the same time, my stockings had been removed. My toenails were receiving similar attention.

"We need something for her ears," Dianna pronounced. "Cheríe, are you packing tonight?"

A tall, attractive Black girl rummaged through her own shoulder bag and came up with a pistol-like device.

"Always," Cheríe proclaimed. "Have gun, will travel. Mild or wild?"

"Wild!" echoed a chorus of voices.

Dianna smiled with amusement, gazing into my face.

"You heard the ladies," she pronounced. "Go to town. I want the best for my wife. In this case, the baddest is the best. I want her so her own mother won't recognize her."

In the next twenty minutes, each ear was stung repeatedly by what felt like a swarm of silent bees. Several pairs of hands were swiping at the pinpricks with cotton swabs dipped in peroxide. Then something was applied repeatedly to my ears that added more and more weight to them.

"She needs hair. Who's got hair?"

The cry was echoed around the room.

"I doooooo," chirped a voice clattering down the stairs from the stage door. "I guess I'm just in time to add the crowning touch. Happy to help."

"You are a doll, Mimi," Dianna complemented gratefully. "I owe you big time. Knowing how you are about hair, it's got to be special."

"It's special, all right," Mimi crowed. "Showgirl Deluxe, in 'Bleach Bunny Blonde'. With those Baby Blues of hers, she's gonna be fabulous!" 

The chair was pivoted, then tilted upright. I was now facing away from the mirror. My longish hair was brushed back, then tucked into a tight-fitting mesh cap. A long blonde wig was fitted over that, then anchored to my head with a series of bobby pins that were wound around and around locks of my own hair before being slid into place. A final sharp tug jerked my head back, but the hair remained firmly in position.

Some kind of choker was wrapped around my neck and fastened in back. It was tall, and held my head up. A ton of bangles went on each wrist. Rings were positioned on multiple fingers and toes. My stockings were once again rolled up my hairless legs. Then, I was helped out of the chair. Two pairs of palms smoothed out the stocking on each leg, adjusting it just so, then re-attaching the garters. I felt a single chain double-wrapped around my left ankle and clipped into place. Each foot was lifted in turn, and Dianna's fabulous lavender suede mules were positioned on my feet. Even with all my experience running, it was a real trip to balance precariously on the balls of my feet, as those high-heeled slippers forced me to do. As a final touch, I was spritzed liberally with a perfume Cheríe identified as Obsession. I had smelled it before on girls I had encountered in the clubs. Its name was totally appropriate for the reaction it elicited in the male of the species.

The appreciative oohs and ahhs were thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Done!" Dianna pronounced triumphantly. "Make that: 'done with a Capital D'. Are you ready for the debut of your extreme makeover, Sweetie?"

With that, she placed her hands gently on my shoulders and turned me around to face the mirror for the first time. She had been successful in at least one respect; my own mother would not have recognized the fantastic, overdone bimbo that stared back at me, red-lipped mouth agape. I say 'overdone' in the context of the women I saw at work and on the streets every day. My showgirl stage makeup blended perfectly with the smiling, happy faces surrounding me at that moment. 

My initial impression of the brow work had been correct. The thick, shapeless brows that had formerly closed in my eyes were gone completely, replaced by razor-thin, high, penciled-in arches. My eyelids were dark, heavy-lidded and mysterious, shadowed above and below and blending beyond the corners. They were heavy-lidded due to the combined weight of the long, thick, enormously-full lashes that now framed my Baby Blue orbs. An equally-thick slash of ebony liner defined each upper and lower lid, extending into sharp points well past the corners of my eyes. 

My lips had been outlined in a dark claret shade, intentionally outside the natural lipline to make them appear fuller. Then, they were filled in with deep red ('Raven Red' Chantal called it). The final coat of gloss made them shine like dark cherry ice. My cheekbones appeared fuller and higher, thanks to the combination of heavy shading below the bone, plus highlighter above. The same heavy shading at my temples and below my jaw re-contoured the natural shape of my face, making it appear almost heart-shaped and fabulously alluring. The whole of it was framed by a mass of big, loose, blonde curls, so pale as to be almost white, cascading down my back almost to my waist. 

My fingernails were almost obscenely long, square-cut with slightly-rounded corners, gently curving downward, the same Raven Red as my lips, and glistening with gold nail art. My equally-perfect red-and-gold toenails extended outward a bit from the tips of my toes as well. Chantal called them 'sculptured toenails' and pronounced them all the rage – perfect for open-toed shoes like the ones I was wearing.

The choker around my neck was eight tiers of tightly-spaced gold chains. In harmony, there were eight new piercings in each of my ears; a gold ball stud at the very top of each ear, with a wide gold ear clip at the outside corner. Four smallish gold rings were clustered in a cascade below the midline of the outer edge. Finally, each lobe was double-pierced, with a one-inch loop in the upper piercing and a huge four-inch hoop in the lower. Gold rings flashed on each of my long, slender, taloned fingers. There were golden toe rings on two toes of each foot, plus a slender gold chain double-wrapped around my trim left ankle.

I had never before in my life been so close to cumming from visual stimulus alone. All right I admit it. As far back as childhood, I had always wondered: What if I had been a girl, instead of a boy? I had secretly experimented a little with my mother's and sister's lingerie, but never taken it further than that; I had never had the nerve to do more. Now, here I was in full drag – and felt like I had just stepped into a new plane of existence. If I was turning me on, what effect would I have on the men in the club? Dianna read my mind.

"The boys will be falling all over themselves to get at you, Girlfriend," she exclaimed. "You will even give me a run for the money."

I seriously doubted that. She had 'freshened' her own makeup while her girlfriends were doing mine. Our faces could have been cast from the same libidinous mold. With her looks, body, and blatant sex appeal, she could make a man cum just by blowing him a kiss.

I received a crash course (almost literally so) in how to strut in a sensual, sure-footed manner in those towering heels. Apparently, Dianna thought I was a quick learner. After fifteen minutes or so, she handed me her lavender suede clutch, now containing my cash, but neither ID nor credit cards ("No one would believe it's you, Sugar."). There were also my lipstick and gloss, lip brush, compact and powder brush, breath mints, perfume spritzer – plus a single-use tube of K-Y and condoms!

"I carry those wherever I go," she observed with a wink. "A girl can never be too prepared."

I looked down at the makeup table next to us and observed the suit, shirt, and tie I had worn since the day before. My wallet - with credit cards, driver's license, and all other forms of identification - would be nestled in the hip pocket of my pants, as always.

"What do we do with that?" I questioned, pointing at it. "Do you think we can come up with a garment bag, or something similar?"

"A garment bag?" my lover intoned with a smile. "Sure; no problem."

She hefted the coat and examined the label inside.

"Men's Wearhouse, right?"

"Yeahhhhh," I responded cautiously.

"Perfect!" she chirped. "One garment bag, coming right up."

She gathered the pile together, wadded it up into a compact ball, then stuffed it in her now-empty Capezio bag.

"They'll press it for free," she purred. Then, with a smirk: "I guarantee it."

She carried the bag in one hand and her red sequined evening clutch in the other. She slipped the latter arm through mine. She glanced down at the larger bag, containing my compacted clothes, then back at me, smiling.

"Ritchie will keep this behind the bar for us until it's time to leave. It will be safer there than in here among the vultures. Now, it's time for 'Lisa Layne' to meet her Brave New World, and vice-versa."

I had never been so completely terrified in my life as Dianna and I slinked arm-in-arm through the dressing room door and into the main lounge. I felt a pale imitation of a woman, compared to the one on my arm. Aside from the Annie Lennox number Dana was lip-synching to on stage, you could have heard a pin drop as the crowd beheld us. Then again, I will swear I heard the sound of a few male jaws hitting the floor. The place had gotten crowded in the interim, as Dianna had told me it always did on a Saturday night. Surprisingly, there were a goodly number of genetic females in the audience; in pairs or small clusters, even a larger group gathered around a couple of pushed-together tables.

"The GG's like to see us, too," Dianna revealed. "They eat up the performances and how flawless we look – as long as we don't compete for their men. That larger group is either a birthday or bachelorette party. From here, they will most likely work their way uptown to see a men's strip show."

"Do they ever... " I began haltingly.

"Date?" Dianna finished, smiling bemusedly. "Sometimes. A few are closet lesbians who convince themselves they aren't really making it with another woman because the girl is hung. Some are just into chicks with dicks, like the guys who come in here."

"Have you ever dated any of them?" I inquired, out of genuine fascination.

"Sure," my girlfriend chirped enthusiastically. "Their money is as good as any man's. Besides..."

She massaged my tight, now-shapely tush.

"... I like girls; the sexier, more feminine, the better. I thought you understood that by now."

I waggled my tush under her hand.

"Am I sexy enough for you?" I asked coyly.

"Oh, Honey," she murmured in my ear, "if you only knew."

With that kind of positive reinforcement, I could really get into this.

I was astonished to spy two empty bar stools, side-by-side, along the front side of the bar. As we approached, I saw why they stood unoccupied. In the middle of each was a white placard which read: Reserved in flowing script. Dianna approached one stool, picked up the placard, draped her fur over the seat and back rest, then perched regally, like a queen on her throne. She removed the placard from the other stool and motioned me to sit. She handed the placards to the bartender and placed the Capezio bag on the bar.

"Thanks, Ritchie," she intoned with her most sincere smile. "Please take care of my bag for me, won't you? And do you think you could scrounge up something special in honor of my girlfriend's coming out?"

I surreptitiously removed two bills from my purse and reached behind me, holding my hand so only Ritchie could see. He discreetly accepted the proffered bills, noting Ben Franklin's portrait on both, and winked. 




Betrayed Ch. 04



Proofread by Ton8ty. Thank you for all the effort and hard work.

===================

Mike noted that the town wasn't very large, but it would provide their needs. Most residents stopped to stare at the twin brothers and guessed they were the new owners of the foreclosed ranch. Mike and Sam avoided any questions and proceeded to shop for supplies. An hour later they started back to the house.

"How soon before the guards get here?" asked Mike.

"Depends on how fast the barracks and guard station get built. I'll make a call when we get back to make sure everything is on schedule," said Sam.

Mike nodded his head as he looked out the window, contemplating his plans. "What about the perimeter fence?"

"I also contracted it with the same builders. It'll go up along with everything else," said Sam. Sam kept glancing over at his brother while driving. "What are you thinking about?"

Mike gave a sigh, "Too many things at one time. I'll let you know when I've worked it out."

Sam laughed. "Just like when we were kids?"

Mike joined his laughter. "Yeah, we got into some pretty big trouble, but we always had each other. Thanks, Sam."

They continued the drive in relative quiet each absorbed in his own thoughts. Mike was thinking of Angela and what he would need to do and Sam was thinking of Cindy. Mike turned to Sam when they spotted a truck in the drive at the house. They pulled in beside it and exited. 

A small man climbed out of the truck, "Mr. Lawson?"

Sam had a serious expression on his face, "Which one?"

"Samuel Lawson. I'm Irving Brown from the Simon & Sons office. I wanted to discuss where you want everything placed. I hope you don't mind, but we're ahead of schedule and would like to get started tomorrow. Maybe we can go inside and discuss it?"

Sam stared intently at the man. "I do not do business without appointments. Tomorrow morning at 9 am will be more appropriate."

"Ah ... Yes sir. I'll come back tomorrow then. Sorry I disturbed you," said Irving as he jumped back into his truck and pulled out.

Sam looked over at Mike who was pulling two bags out of the back seat. "I'll make sure the doors are locked and security is on while they're here."

Mike nodded his approval, proceeding up the steps and into the house, followed closely by Sam. He placed the bags on the floor and went into the kitchen. Ellen was preparing dinner and began to kneel at their appearance.

"Finish dinner Ellen; I just need a glass," said Mike.

Ellen went to one of the cabinets, pulled out a glass and handed it to Mike. Sam stayed with Ellen while Mike went upstairs.

Mike retrieved one of the bags and went up to the door to Cindy's room. He set the bag on the floor in the hallway, removed a plastic bottle then unlocked the door and looked inside. Angela was curled in a ball on the bed shaking. He walked in, shutting the door behind him, placed the glass and bottle on the night stand and sat beside her on the bed.

"Angela," he said, gently pushing the hair from her face so he could look into her eyes.

Angela felt his presence, but was unable to make her mouth work. She opened it, but no words came out. Her tongue felt thick and swollen. 'What's wrong with me?' she questioned herself. She focused her eyes and sought out his to find the answer. His eyes were not the angry or impassive ones of late, but the ones she remembered from before.

Mike gently stroked the side of her face. "You're sick Angela. I need you to drink something to get some fluids back into your body." 

Angela nodded her head in understanding. She watched as Master Michael poured some liquid in a glass and brought it to her lips.

"Sips only," he said.

She took small sips which seemed to help calm her a bit, but she was still shaking. Angela looked up into his eyes again, "Dying?"

Mike smiled gently at her as he would a sick child. "No. You're just dehydrated and probably malnourished as well. Do you remember when you ate last before here?"

Angela closed her eyes thinking. "Three ... days ... sting." Her words were barely a whisper.

Mike set the glass back down on the stand and gently cuddled her against his shoulder. Five days without food would weaken anyone. Her body was still shaking and he saw the strain on her face. "Angela, look at me." She weakly tilted her head back and opened her eyes. "You're still fighting your body aren't you?"

"Must ... not ... fail you ... again," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Angela, I'm ordering you to cum!" he spoke sternly. His hand traveled down her welts inciting the pain he knew she needed. He fucked her pussy hard with two fingers while his thumb roughly massaged her clit. "Cum!!!" he yelled a second time. Angela's scream was barely audible as her orgasm wracked through her body, flooding his hand with her juices. When her body finally stilled, he removed his hand and wiped it on the blanket. He was able to get more liquid into her before she fell back asleep. He left, shutting the door behind him and locking it again.

"How is she?" Sam asked, standing on the landing.

Mike sighed heavily. "I managed to get half a glass of liquid into her as well as bringing her to orgasm. She was still fighting not to have one. I need Ellen to fix broths for her; she's not eaten in five days. It's going to be a long night. She'll stay in this room until she's well."

"And Cindy?" asked Sam.

"I have plans for her, but not tonight. Have Ellen fix a tray for her; one sick sub is enough to handle at a time," said Mike. "I need something to eat. How long before dinner is ready?"

"Probably a couple of hours yet," said Sam. "I know you punished Cindy today, but I'd like her this evening. I don't want her to get comfortable thinking this is all that's going to happen to her." 

"Go ahead, but have Ellen fix me a sandwich to tide me over until dinner. I'll bring up what I need." Mike walked down the stairs, retrieved the other bag, climbed back up the stairs and stopped long enough to pick up the one he had set on the floor. He looked momentarily at the locked door before carrying them to his room.

Sam went to the kitchen to give Ellen her orders, informed her that the contractors would there the following morning, that he was going downstairs and she wasn't to disturb him. 

He went downstairs and opened the room, stepped inside and sealed the door. He was still angry over Cindy's actions; felt he had been too lenient with her. He walked over to her cage and looked at her without speaking. He opened the cage door letting the silence hang in the air.

When Cindy saw the door of the room opening, she immediately knelt in her cage. She watched as the feet of her Master approached, but he didn't say anything. Her heart raced with fear; as the silence grew, so did her terror. The door to the cage silently opened.

"Get out here," said Sam in a cold, harsh voice.

Cindy quickly crawled out and knelt at his feet.

Sam grabbed her hair and forced her to look into his angry eyes. "My brother is distracted tonight, so I will further your punishment. You made me look bad in his eyes. I told him I trained you well for him, and now, you not only defied him, but angered me as well. Now you will find that I can be more sadistic than he is."

Sam didn't give any orders. He flipped her on her back by her hair, using it to drag her over to one of the tables in the room. 

With her hair firmly grasped, he pulled her up and onto the table. Once her wrists were secured, he brought her legs up toward her head and secured them in place. The table was tilted to give him complete access to her ass. 

He went over to the chair and removed his clothes. He stared at her welt covered body and smiled. "The organization told me a few things to use for severe punishment specifically for you. I didn't think I would ever get to use them ... until tonight."

Cindy's eyes widened and she struggled in her restraints. "Please, Master Samuel, I'll be good. Please don't use them!" 

He laughed cruelly at her pleas and ignored them. He went to the sink and started the preparations for an enema. When Cindy saw what he was doing, she started to struggle harder against her bindings. The bag was placed on a pole stand and rolled over to the table. He lubed the bulbous head and shoved it into her ass. Pushing harder, he smiled as he felt it pass her ring and then he inflated it so it would not come back out. He released the stopper and watched as the liquid poured into her body.

Cindy struggled anew as she felt the water surge into her passage. She felt her abdomen extend and then begin to cramp. She felt the urge to release her bowels.

Sam brought over and extra-large butt plug that he had lubed. He deflated the catheter, removed it quickly and inserted the plug. Cindy screamed loudly as he rammed it into her ass and begged again, to no avail. He brought the table level and released her; she staggered as he brought her over to the spreader bars. She was attached and hoisted up to stand on her toes.

Sam went to the wall behind her and then came back. "I've been too easy on you," and he smack her ass with a paddle. Cindy screamed from both the force of the blow and the mounting pressure within her bowels. "You got lazy and content." SMACK. "You'll regret the day you dared to defy any Master." SMACK. 

Sam continued to paddle Cindy until both cheeks were dark red. Then he went to the cabinet and took out a jar. "Do you want some cream for your sore ass?" Cindy was scared to agree, but nodded that she did. At first it felt good and seemed to cool her inflamed cheeks, but then it started to heat up. She was wriggling from the pain caused by the cream.

Sam applied the Icy/Hot to her cheeks and then stepped away to watch. He loved the way her breasts and newly pierced nipples bounced. He opened a drawer and brought out some weights. He walked over and showed them to Cindy, "If you don't stand still and take your punishment, I will add to it."

Cindy couldn't stop moving because of the pain on and in her ass. Sam attached the weights and watched them sway and tug her nipples down. Cindy was alternately screaming and begging, each movement causing searing pain in her nipples. Sam stood and stroked his hard cock listening to her screams. He had wanted to do this to that other slut. The one his brother still cared about it seems; didn't know if Mike would let him now.

Cindy's ass cheeks finally calmed down enough for her to quit moving. "Please Master Samuel, please. I've got to go to the bathroom. Please let me go."

Sam smiled and started to flick the weights dangling from her rings. "We're not done yet. I'll let you release your bowels, but it means more weight on your nipples. If I take the weights off your nipples, then you stay plugged all night. Which is it slut?!"

Cindy was crying in earnest, but she had detested enemas ever since her training. "Please release my bowels, Master Samuel, and let me go!"

Sam laughed and went back to the drawer. He returned and added more weight to each ring before releasing her hands and ankles. He walked her over to the toilet, set her on the edge of the lip and ripped the plug out.

Cindy jerked as the plug was violently ripped from her ass. Not only from the pain of that action, but from the shaking weights on her nipples. Soon everything inside gushed out, but her asshole wouldn't close. Master Samuel suddenly grabbed her hair lifting her to her feet and pulled her to a padded sawhorse. He threw her over and anchored her ankles and wrists into clips in the floor. She screamed and cried from the downward tension of the position and the weights tugging her nipples down hard.

"I see your ass is all ready for me, nice and open," said Sam as he plunged his hard cock into her gaping hole. Cindy screamed at his entry and with every hard thrust. The pain being inflicted as he ravished her asshole as well as the swaying pulling weights dangling from her rings was pure agony.

Cindy didn't know how long it was between the time he started and the time he finally filled her with his cum. She had lost track of any time in the room. All she focused on was the pain being inflicted by this man; not the Master she had come to love, but an entirely different person. 

Cindy loved pain to orgasm, but there wasn't anything pleasurable in the pain he had been inflicting on her body; it was pure punishment. When he finally removed his softening cock from her ass, he released her. She was grabbed by the hair again and shoved into a kneeling position. "Please, Master Samuel, I'll never do anything like this ever again," she begged.

"Clean my cock, slut!" he demanded.

Cindy cringed; it was part of her punishment that the center used. She obeyed and opened her mouth to suck him clean along with her own anal juices. When she finished, she removed his cock and thanked him for allowing her to clean him. She saw his hand come down and cringed, but he shocked her by removing the weights from her rings. He walked back to the cabinet, got something out and returned.

"Lie back and expose your breasts," he said, his voice now calm.

Cindy obeyed although her butt still hurt. He wiped all around her nipples and he applied a soothing ointment. "This is to prevent infection," he told her. Cindy was confused by his behavior. 'How can he be so cruel one minute and so kind the next?'

"You took my punishment well, slut, and now you know it can get worse yet if you forget your place again. Master Michael has yet to finish with you, so don't feel yourself safe," said Master Samuel. "Now come to the shower and I'll wash your bottom and get it dressed properly."

Sam led her over and used the hand held shower to clean her. After she was dried, he applied a soothing lotion to her ass which helped cool down the pain this time. She was placed back in the cage with a promise of a meal; he left and resealed the door.

Sam felt calmer now and was happy. He wanted to vent his anger before being with Ellen; she hadn't done anything wrong. He stepped into the kitchen, smelling the delicious aroma. It looked like Ellen was putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It all smells wonderful, Ellen," and he gently kissed the nape of her neck.

"Thank you, Master Samuel." She was smiling because he was so pleased. 

"Tonight you sleep with me," he stated and he gently hugged her to his body.

Ellen leaned into his embrace and he fondled her breasts. "I'll save these for an after dinner snack." She giggled.

"Do you wish for me to take Cindy a tray or will one of my Masters?" Ellen asked.

"I'll take it down when you have it done. You are not to speak with either slut unless directed by me," he said firmly.

"Yes, Master Samuel. Dinner is ready. Shall I set the table?"

"Yes. I'll let Master Michael know. Do you have the broth ready?" he asked.

"Master Michael has already taken it upstairs, Master Samuel," she replied.

Sam nodded, left the kitchen and headed upstairs. The door to Cindy's room was open and Mike was feeding Angela sips of broth while cuddling her against his body. "Dinner's ready. Ellen is setting the table."

"I'm almost done for this session. I wanted to see how much I could get her to take. So far, it's all staying down." He placed the cup of broth on the bedside table and picked up the glass. She took a few sips and indicated that was all she could handle. He put the glass back on the stand, gently eased her down on the bed and covered her with the blanket. He walked out, shutting the door and locking it.

"If she's so weak, why lock the door?" asked Sam.

Mike stared at him intently, "I don't trust her yet."

Sam nodded his approval and they left for dinner.

* * * * *

A week passed and the barracks, guard station and perimeter fence were in place. Sam was waiting for the arrival of the guards. Angela had sufficiently recovered and was moved back downstairs. Cindy returned to her own room and duties. Master Michael ignored her and she was feeling neglected and unwanted.

A van pulled up to the house and six men exited; all rather disheveled from their long drive. The leader, Hank, told them to go over to the barracks, store their gear and he would join them later as soon as he checked in and got instructions. He climbed the steps and knocked at the door.

Cindy was downstairs when the knock came. She answered the door and a burly man of five nine stood and stared of her nakedness. A smile crossed his face, "I'm looking for Mister Samuel Lawson."

"Please come into the living room and I will tell him you are here," she said to the stranger.

Hank walked past her and she shut the door. She showed him to the room and then quickly left. She entered the hidden basement chamber and knelt at Master Samuel's feet waiting to be addressed.

"What is it Cindy?" Master Michael inquired.

"Excuse me Masters. Master Samuel, there is a man upstairs who asked to see you."

"Who is it?" Sam inquired.

"Sorry, Master Samuel, I did not think to ask," she admitted.

"You didn't ask and let a total stranger into my house?" Sam said coldly on the point of anger. Cindy trembled in fear knowing that she had upset him.

Sam turned to Mike, "I'll see who it is and take care of it. I suggest you seal the room after we leave."

"No. I'm coming with you," said Mike. "Angela needs a rest break before the next session."

"Cindy, come with us," he commanded.

They left the room, sealed it and went upstairs to see to the man waiting in the living room.

Sam recognized him and smiled, "Hank, nice to see you again. Are the boys here?"

Hank looked at the twin men and smiled back. "They're moving in as we speak. We just need to rest and relax a bit before doing anything; it's been a long drive." He gazed at Cindy with lust filled eyes and his cock started to harden.

Sam laid a firm hand on Hank's shoulder. "How many men did you bring?"

"Six including me; the rest will arrive in a couple of days," he answered, but kept his eyes glued to Cindy's breasts and nipples.

A knowing glance passed between Sam and Mike; this is what they had been waiting for. Mike excused himself, went downstairs and brought Angela up. She stood beside Cindy.

Sam smiled at the two women, but noticed that Angela was the only one with her head bowed and eyes downcast. "You two sluts will go with Hank and please him and his men. You can cum as many times as they can get you off."

"As my Master wishes," said Angela.

Cindy openly stared with a stricken look on her face. 'I'm only for Master Michael and Samuel' she thought.

Sam looked at her with an angry scowl on his face waiting for the proper response. Cindy finally said, "Yes, Master Samuel."

Mike walked Angela and Cindy to the front door, opened it and led them to the porch. This was Angela's first time outdoors since her captivity and she glanced around quickly realizing that she was no longer in Paris.

Sam took Hank aside before he got to the door. "I'll want a report on how they perform, if either of them refused to do anything."

Hank was familiar with the lifestyle and smiled. "It's a test?"

Sam nodded his head affirmative.

"I'll let you know then. Thanks, it will make the boys easier to live with since they'll get some pussy tonight."

"We'll arrange something permanent later on; I don't want any locals snooping where it doesn't concern them. Let them know all local women are off limits. I think four subs should be sufficient; let me know your preferences tomorrow." Sam smiled as he led Hank to the door.

Hank walked outside and down the steps. Angela followed, but Cindy cast a glance at Master Michael. His angry glare prompted her to follow Hank.

The men had pretty well stowed what gear they had brought with them when Hank appeared in the doorway. "The boss has provided us with some entertainment tonight, boys!"




Betrayed Ch. 04



The men looked up at his announcement and laughed when they saw the naked women following Hank inside. The closest man to the door was Jon. He smiled at Angela while he stripped off his clothes. The rest of the men followed suit and soon the two women were surrounded by six muscular men each sporting a hard on.

Jon grabbed Angela and pressed her to his body, kissing her roughly. He pushed down on her shoulder and aimed his cock at her mouth. Angela opened her mouth and started swirling her tongue around his large head, tasting the pre-cum and sweat. She sucked it into her mouth and down her throat.

"Yeah, slut, take it all!" groaned Jon as he grabbed her head and started fucking her mouth. 

Steve lay on the ground with his head under Angela's cunt and started licking and fingering her. Angela moaned, sending vibrations along Jon's cock, and he started to fuck her harder and faster.

Hank turned to Cindy. She had the wide eyed scared look of a virgin. He laughed at her, "Come here, slut." Cindy took a small hesitant step towards him. "I said come here, bitch!" he yelled, as he grabbed her nipple rings and yanked her towards him.

Cindy winced in pain and screamed, but stepped closer to Hank. He smiled at her reaction and leaned down to suck one of her hard nubs into his mouth. Cindy tried to pull back so he bit down hard on her nipple and tugged the ring again. She screamed and started to cry.

"You take our orders now, slut." He twisted her ring to emphasize his point. Hank sat down on one of the bunks with his hard wide cock jutting from his body. "Bend over and suck it dry."

Cindy started to kneel and Hank grabbed her rings again. "I didn't tell you to kneel. I told you to bend, slut. The other boys want access to you."

Hank laid back on the bed while Cindy started to suck on his cock, her tears streaming down her face.

George stepped behind Cindy. "Do any of you mind if I just fuck her?" There were no objections so he rammed his hard cock deep into Cindy's cunt with a grunt. "Fuck, she's tight! Just like a fucking virgin!" He grabbed her hips and pounded her hard and fast.

Jon had already cum in Angela's mouth and she was now sucking Steve off. Tim took his post at her cunt and was lapping away. He couldn't figure out why Angela hadn't cum yet and it was making him mad. He gave her bottom a hard smack; Angela moaned and ground her cunt into his face. "Hey! This cunt gets off on pain!"

"Hey, Jon, spank her hard for me," yelled Tim. Jon smiled and started to land blows on Angela's ass and the backs of her thighs. Soon she started into an orgasm, flooding Tim's face. He lapped up her juices and slid further between her legs until her pussy was over his hard throbbing cock. He plunged her down on his cock and started to thrust into her. 

Earl got tired of waiting for George to finish on Cindy and drifted over to Angela. "Steve, why don't you fuck her ass while she sucks me off," he said. Steve went behind Angela and Tim bent her forward so he could slide in. Once he was balls deep, the two men started a rhythm, while she began working on Earl's cock in her mouth.

Tim started pinching and pulling her nipples brutally, causing Angela to moan and wreathe on the two cocks. Soon he was slapping her breasts, face and anywhere else he could reach to make her cum again. She finally did orgasm, clinching both cocks and causing the two men to unload into her. Earl pulled out and pushed her across one of the bunks and started to hammer into her pussy until he came also.

George lunged hard one final time into Cindy's cunt and unloaded his hot cum deep within her pussy. Hank pulled her off his throbbing member, "Can't even give a decent blowjob, slut!" He walked behind her and rammed his cock into her ass. George lay on the bunk, demanding she suck him back to hardness. 

Jon came over to join Hank and nodded in Angela's direction. He smiled and nodded at George. George pulled Cindy away from his cock and Hank pulled her up sending her deeper onto his cock. Jon lifted her thighs and plunged his cock into her cunt.

George went over to Angela who was still bent over the bunk and shoved his cock into her ass. She clenched her anal muscles tightly around his shaft trying to give him the most pleasure. Soon he was pumping his cum into her also.

Hank and Jon were close and soon pumped Cindy full of their cum. They pulled out and Cindy sat on the floor crying. Hank gave her a disgusted look. "Clean off my cock, slut!" Cindy cringed, but eased up to do as she was ordered and then sat back down.

Hank walked over to Angela. "Suck me hard again, slut!"

Angela smiled and obeyed. Soon Hank was moaning and humping her mouth. He soon stopped her and smiled. "Come on, you need a shower." Angela got up and followed him into the shower stall. He started the water running. He turned her around and pressed her against the tiled wall and shoved his cock into her hot pussy. He started to pound her hard and fast until he shot his cum into her and then pressed his body against hers. "I like you, slut. What's your name?"

"Angela," she replied.

"Well, Angela, you're sure a better fuck than that other slut," Hank said.

"Thank you, Master," she responded.

"Let's get you better cleaned up now." Hank took the soap and cleaned all of Angela body. She winced when he took her hand. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Master. When he threw me on the bed, my hand hit the metal," said Angela.

Concern flooded Hank's face. "Let's see it."

Angela lifted it with her good hand and presented it to him.

"Can you move it?" asked Hank.

Angela tried, but couldn't move her hand. "I'm sorry, Master, I'm really trying."

Hank let out a puff of air. "We'll need to take you back. I think it's broken." He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry you were hurt."

"It's nothing, Master. As long as I pleased you and your men," said Angela demurely.

"You pleased us a lot. Come now, I'll dry you off, get dressed and take you back." He led her out of the stall and Jon had just come in to get her.

"She's off limits," said Hank with an angry scowl. "Which one of you assholes broke her wrist?"

Jon stepped back a bit. "I don't know. She didn't give any indication she was hurt."

"Well, you all will have to make do with the other slut tonight. I've got to take her back. Tell them out there I'm not happy and if they injure the other one, then, I'm going to take some skin off of a few backsides!"

Jon left quickly and by the time Hank and Angela came back in, the mood was fairly subdued. Hank dressed quickly and Angela followed him out. He walked quickly to the house and knocked on the door.

Sam and Mike were sitting in the living room enjoying a drink when they heard the knock. Sam just shrugged his shoulders and they both got up to answer it. At first they were angry to see Angela there until Hank told them that one of the men broke her wrist.

Angela stood behind Hank holding her broken wrist with her good hand. When Hank moved so Sam and Mike could come forward, he saw the bruises forming on her breasts and face. "God Damn it, Hank! How can I take her to a fucking hospital looking like she's been beaten to death! They were there for your pleasure, not to have the shit beaten out of them!" Sam's rage was barely controllable.

Mike's rage was pure cold anger. He wanted to kill whoever did this, "Which one?"

"I asked and we don't know," said Hank.

"Angela, which one?" asked Mike.

"The one who threw me on the bed, Master Michael, I do not know their names," she replied.

"I'll find out then," said Hank.

"Return Cindy," ordered Sam.

"That won't be a problem. All she does is cry. For what it's worth, Angela was perfect," said Hank and then he left.

A tear slowly slid down Angela's face. "I'm sorry I let you down, Masters."

Mike gently put his arm around her, "You didn't, Angela. You heard Hank. He said you were perfect. Come into the house and we'll figure out what to do." Mike and Sam led her into the living room and she started to kneel on the floor.

"Sit on the couch, Angela," said Sam.

"Yes, Master Samuel," she said sitting down. She was surprised at the softness in his voice.

"Mike, pack it with ice and let me make a few calls. I'll be back as soon as I can," said Sam.

Angela was surprised. That's the first time she didn't hear Master Samuel refer to her Master as Master Michael.

"I'll be right back Angela. Are you in a lot of pain?" Mike asked softly.

"A little, but I'll be okay, Master Michael. My stomach is a little jumpy, though," she said.

Sam left for his private study while Mike got the ice and packed Angela's wrist. He sat beside Angela, put his arms around her and leaned her head against his chest. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly on her bruised lips.

Angela looked into his eyes after he kissed her. "I'm so sorry, Master Michael, for everything." He nodded his head, but didn't say anything.

Sam returned in about thirty minutes carrying broken lengths of a cane. He'd called another Master and informed him of the situation. The other Master knew of a doctor that could be trusted and he would arrive tomorrow. Until then they were told to immobilize her wrist so that it wouldn't move.

Sam came over in front of Angela and knelt down. He looked into her eyes making her feel uncomfortable. "How are you doing, Angela?" he spoke softly.

"I-I'm sorry, Master Samuel, but you're making me nervous," she said.

"How?" he inquired.

"Please don't kneel, Master Samuel, that's my position," she said and cast her eyes down.

Sam shot his brother a look and Mike smiled. 

"I'm going to wrap your wrist up, Angela, so it doesn't move. Then, I'm going to give you a little something for the pain. It'll make you sleepy, so it's okay if you go to sleep," Sam once again spoke softly, "I have to kneel so I can do it better than if I were standing up."

"Thank you, Master Samuel, for explaining and thank you for fixing my wrist for me," she said.

There was another knock at the door. "That must be Hank with Cindy. Here, hold on to these for me, Master Michael," he said for Angela's sake and gave Mike the broken pieces of bamboo.

Sam crossed over and opened the door. Hank was standing there, but not Cindy. "Where's Cindy?" said Sam.

Hank had a confused look on his face. "I brought her back half an hour ago to the front door. She said she could make it from there. I just came back to tell you we found out who hurt Angela."

"Fuck!" said Sam. "Come with me to the monitor room. Let's see how far she's gotten."

Hank followed Sam at a fast pace to the room. "There!" said Sam pointing to a blinking set of numbers on the screen. "That's Cindy. Here, take this," and Sam handed him a hand held unit. "Track her down and bring her back."

Hank nodded and left quickly. Sam came back to the living room and Mike gave him a questioning look.

"We have a runaway," said Sam as he knelt down and started splinting Angela's wrist. He finished, left and then came back. "It'll sting a little Angela."

She nodded her head and winced when he gave her the shot. The shot made Angela feel warm all over and soon she was asleep.

"She'll be out for a few hours," said Sam. He crossed and sat in his lounger. "Who would have thought," he said, looking at Mike.

"Yeah, Cindy," said Mike. "Let's send her back and replace her. It's too much of a hassle."

Sam nodded agreement. 'Not until I punish her first' he thought. 



Betrayed Ch. 04



"We have a bottle of Taittinger Blanc de Blanc we save for special occasions," he informed us. "I think this qualifies, Miss...."

"Lisa," I purred in genuine gratitude. "Lisa Layne. That would be lovely, Ritchie. Thank you."

"It's an honor to serve you, Miss Lisa."

I turned to face him, placed my hand lightly on his, and flashed him the most dazzling smile I could muster.

"It's a pleasure to be served by you, Ritchie."

He blushed crimson, stared at his shoes, mumbled his sincerest thanks, then hurried off in search of the champagne. My lover smiled at me in admiration.

"You handled that very well," she cooed, "although you still have to learn not to spend your money. Men will be buying us drinks all night; wait and see. By the way, you should take Ritchie literally on that 'honor to serve you' bit. He's very submissive and obviously smitten with you. I think you just made your first conquest. Have you considered what you might do with your very own little slave boy?"

I was stunned at the thought. I hadn't really done anything. It couldn't be that easy, could it? As a male, getting a woman interested in me was like pulling teeth with a pair of rusty pliers. Were all men as easily manipulated by a beautiful woman? And just when did I begin thinking of myself as a 'beautiful woman'?

The Taittinger was as excellent as ever. Even Dianna, a novice with fine wine, gave it her stamp of approval. It was so nice to find an establishment that kept such a delicate vintage in the refrigerator, rather than on top of it. We sipped the bubbly, watched the show - and drew stares like flies to honey. I lost count of the number of times I scanned the room and caught eyes darting away guiltily. When I caught a gaze that didn't turn away, I gave him the once-over. If I thought him hot, I flashed him what I hoped was a seductive smile. Even a week before, 'Lance' would never, ever have flirted with a man this way. Now, as 'Lisa'... well, I guess Dianna had broadened my horizons.

Men began approaching us not long after we sat down. Dianna deftly fielded most of their advances. My lover was uncannily accurate at sizing men up, gracefully dismissing the clumsy come-ons and zeroing in on the ones that had real potential. I graciously acknowledged interest when it was directed at me, but generally watched, listened, and learned from my more experienced girlfriend. 

One man in particular carried on a lengthy murmured conversation with my girlfriend. That she gave him that much time indicated she had sized him up as U.S. Prime. One look at his freshly-pressed Armani suit, broadcloth shirt, silk tie and Tissot wristwatch confirmed that. I knew what was coming and readied myself for it. Dianna stood and turned to me.

"Baby," she offered carefully, "do you remember what we talked about over dinner?"

I nodded bravely and forced a smile.

"Good," she responded. "Ken and I are going to go next door for a bit and get... better acquainted. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

She and I both knew what she meant was: would I be okay with her going out to fuck this man? We had discussed it; at dinner and again in the car. She had been open and honest about it, pointing out this was what she was and she wasn't going to change. She had also assured me that no matter how much or how big a cock she got, she would always come home to me - and share the details of the men she had had. Susan hadn't done that; instead, she had snuck around behind my back with one man in particular, then (finally) come home, pretending nothing had happened. I had professed to Dianna I would rather be with her than Susan, knowing Dianna would be with men, sometimes several nights a week. Now, I had to step up and take myself at my word.

Something else occurred to me. Once again, I was thinking in terms of Dianna fucking men, not other men. What was happening to my self-image? I had only to look in the mirror behind the bar to answer that question. I gazed at the reflection – my reflection - dressed all in lavender suede and sheer black blouse with a full, fluffy head of blonde hair and overdone makeup. It wasn't like I had gone down kicking and screaming, either. How could I possibly still think of myself as a man? 

Just let go....

I squeezed her hand reassuringly, even if I didn't feel it myself. My smile was a bit less forced.

"I'll watch your coat," I said.

It was difficult to read the jumble of emotions in her face. There was nothing difficult to understand about the silently-mouthed words "Thank you" she formed with her lips. I thought it had been difficult to accept Susan was cheating on me. I thought it had been next to impossible to pack my belongings, walk out that door, leave eight years of mostly happy memories behind. It was nothing compared to watching my 'Barbie' walk out that door, alone, followed discreetly a few minutes later by her 'Ken'. I had to remind myself again she wasn't cheating on me; she had been honest and up-front about who and what she was and I had accepted her on that basis. For that matter, we weren't even married yet.

Yet? What are you thinking, Lisa?

I sat there, lost in my thoughts, absent-mindedly stroking Dianna's fabulous fur. I hadn't really realized just how exquisite a sensation it was. I switched stools, surrounding myself with the soft, fluffy pelt, wrapping myself up in it, luxuriating in the sublime sensations. I began to wonder why I had denied myself this pleasure for so very long? When I realized the answer, I had to smile. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to change my perspective after all. I just needed the right... stimulation.

"Hi Cutie! Would you like some company?"

I looked up. This time, my smile was warm and genuine.

"Hi Chantal! I would love some."

I turned to Ritchie. He read my mind, instantly producing a third flute. I poured my new friend the last of the Taittinger, then proposed a toast.

"To... new beginnings," I murmured.

"Here, here," she responded, clinking her glass softly against mine, then taking a sip.

"Oh my! You have excellent taste... " Chantal exclaimed.

She glanced at the sinfully-expensive fur wrapped luxuriantly around my body.

"... in so many things," she finished.

I nodded slowly.

"Thank you," I replied in a subdued voice.

"Where is Dianna?" she asked, turning her head from side to side, looking for my lover.

"A date," I stated simply.

Perhaps it was the way my body tensed, or the inflection in my voice. My new girlfriend knew immediately.

"Oh, my," she stated quietly. "I know where this is going. Can you talk about it yet? Do you want to?"

I nodded my head slowly.

"It would probably do me good to get it out, rather than bottling it up," I responded. "She and I have already talked about it. I know this is what she is and she won't change. I accepted that. It's my problem, not hers. I have no right to play the 'jealous husband' with her."

"I'll say, Girlfriend," my ebony companion snorted. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

I chuckled.

"I've already been there," I concurred. "I can't believe it myself. It's not like I was unwilling; at least, not after tonight, and all of you taking the time to help me." 

Chantal squeezed my hand.

"Thank you, Baby," she interjected. "It's sweet of you to say so."

"It just all happened so fast," I continued. "I need time to let my head to catch up with the rest of me."

The attractive T-girl took both my hands in hers and gazed at me earnestly.

"Girrrl," she advised, "what you need is to get laid – by the biggest cock you can find. Not Dianna; you need a man. You can wring your hands and rationalize and soul-search all you want. Until you get some stud to fuck you, and find out just how easy it is to find one, you will never get past where your head is at right now. 

"As you said, Dianna is what she is and won't change. I know her, know the way she thinks, about as well as anyone. She loves to fuck; the hotter, rougher, nastier, throw-me-up-against-the-wall-and-do-me-right-now, the better. But that is just sex. When it comes to love, Miss Dianna is a hard-core lipstick lesbian. She will bring trade home if she has to, providing she knows she can get rid of him right away. She doesn't want some guy underfoot all weekend, leaving his dirty, smelly clothes strewn all over or drinking beer and watching sports on TV all day. 

"For what it's worth, Dianna has been bending our ears all week, telling us about this wonderful, caring, sensitive guy she met – and how hard he makes her cum. That girl is crazy for you, Sweetie! We've all been saying 'yeah, yeah, we've seen it all before and experienced it ourselves. He's all lovey-dovey, sensitive and caring in the beginning. Then, the freak grows fur and fangs at the full moon and rips your head off.'

"When we met you tonight, watched you two make eyes at each other, saw how you pamper her, and what an exquisitely-beautiful girl you made on the first attempt, we knew you are exactly the kind of lover Dianna falls hard for. I don't normally go for feminine men, but I wouldn't mind putting a move on you myself.

"I once had a manager who told me: 'Chantal, if you can't change the facts, change your attitude.' So, you will have to change your perception of your relationship and who you are as a person. You started down this path, whether of your own free will or Dianna's siren song. Believe me; I know how persuasive she can be. Now, you have to make a choice: either see it through to its logical conclusion or get outta Dodge. I know without asking Dianna is hoping, praying for the former. So are the rest of us. We've already gotten attached to you, Girl. We want you to stick around. Believe me; that doesn't happen often around this place."

Chantal glanced at the clock on the bar.

"I have to go get ready for my next set," she announced. "Did any of this help?"

I hugged her for all I was worth.

"More than you can possibly know," I replied.

She flashed a dazzling smile, showing off about a thousand perfect teeth.

"Good!" she exclaimed. "I meant what I said. We really want to see you around more often. We want you and Dianna to be happy together, too. All right, I lied. I hope she will make you miserable and you will dump her big round butt cold – and I will be right there, waiting to catch you as you fall. See you later!"

My new confidant made her way back to the dressing room. I mulled over her words carefully. When Dianna returned from her date, I moved back to my own stool and allowed her to reclaim hers. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were tinged with caution.

"Keeping it warm for me?" she asked.

"And then some," I replied.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head and squeezed her hand.

"Later," I demurred. "Tonight, at home, in bed – with you inside me. That will be the right time."

She leaned over, placed one hand on my cheek, and planted a warm, gentle kiss on my lips, in front of God and everyone.

"You really do know how to push all the right buttons," she murmured in my ear, above the din. "I am so in love with you, I could burst!"

***

I couldn't ignore him. He was tall, attractive, and built like a Greek god. He had been giving me the eye all evening; one of those that didn't turn away when my gaze met his. I had winked and smiled at him a bit earlier. Apparently, he had taken that as an invitation. As he drew near, Dianna had done her best to divert him to herself, but he was having none of it. He made straight for my stool and engaged me in conversation. One thing led to another.

"I was wondering," he intoned thoughtfully. "What would it take to get a girl like you someplace more... private? I would really like to get better acquainted.

Time to shit or get off the pot, Girl!

"What did you have in mind, Sugar?" I inquired.

He carefully held my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then leaned over and whispered directly into my ear.

"You have such beautiful lips," he intoned, gently tracing their outline with his other forefinger, careful not to smear my lipstick. "I was just wondering how much it would cost to see them wrapped around a nice, juicy tube steak?" 

Clear, concise, and to the point. I had listened to Dianna field such requests for the better part of two hours. She had quoted them a steep price to cull out the wannabes who were just living out their hooker fantasy without actually planning to go through with it. Real players would negotiate – and not be deterred by a highball figure.

"Funny you should bring that up, Sugar," I intoned. I've been craving a tube steak sandwich all night. I know a quiet little spot not far from here where they serve up good ones for...Seventy-Five?

"Seventy-five?" he voiced in mock surprise. "They would have to be very good."

"What's your name, Lover?" I inquired.

"Daniel."

I sighed, expanding my chest to show off my boobs, then licked my lips suggestively.

"You tell me, Daniel," I spoke breathily. "Do you think it's worth it?"

He gave me another once-over, then smiled.

"Oh yeah," he replied. "I definitely think you are worth it. Where do we go from here?"

Thanks to Dianna, I had my response down pat.

"You are going to be a good boy and go back to your table. I will be leaving as soon as you do. For obvious reasons, it would not be a good idea for us to be seen leaving the club together. Wait ten minutes, then come to the office building next door. Ring the buzzer marked Two-Seventeen, identify yourself, and ask for Lisa. I'll buzz you in. Remember: the tube steak special goes for seventy-five up front; no exceptions. Got it?"

"Oh, yeah, Sweet Thing; I got it."

As Daniel returned to his table, I smiled at Dianna coyly. I had trouble reading her emotions.

"My big girl is growing up really, really fast," she observed, with unexpected distance in her voice. "You were taking baby steps only a couple of hours ago. Now, you are going to have your first date with a man. Remember everything I taught you and play nice with the big boys. Jim, the owner, makes the room available to us girls. He owns the whole building, as well as this club. Be sure to tip him like I told you. If you are good to him, fair to him, he will be your biggest fan. Now, go – and be sure to wear a condom."

"I'm just giving him a blowjob, Baby," I assured her. "I'm not fucking him."

"You wear a condom anyway," Dianna intoned more insistently. "You will thank me later."

Jim was playing host at the front door, meeting and greeting guests as they arrived. We had never actually met. The first time I was here, he had said hello, but pretty much ignored me, as he did with all obviously straight males. Dianna had told me about him. He was a short, rotund Gay boy who had a penchant for dressing. In the beginning, he had performed on his own stage. He had a reputation for sometimes being a tyrant towards those who worked for him. In truth, he worshipped the girls who performed on his stage or 'worked the crowd', secretly wishing he could look as good as they did.

He took one look at me and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"Well, hello, Blondie," he gushed. "Shame on you for sneaking in earlier! I'm certain I would remember seeing you come through my door."

I held out my hand.

"Lisa Layne," I pronounced. "I'm a friend of Dianna's."

He took my hand and kissed it.

"Well of course you are!" Jim enthused. "Leave it to Dianna to know all the good ones. I remember her coming in tonight. I'm sorry; I still don't remember you."

"You would have had no reason to," I admitted. "I was en drab at the time. This is my first time out. Actually, you could say I was 'born' in your dressing room a couple of hours ago."

I had no idea how emotional Jim could actually be. He was literally running around in circles, not knowing what to do.

"Oh my God," he exclaimed, "oh, my goodness gracious. This is your first time out? And you already look like THAT? And I'm the proud papa? Oh, be still, my heart. Oh, oh, I'm going to have a coronary. Somebody fetch me an aspirin! I have to nip this sucker in the bud right now! Dear, sweet lady, can you dance? Can you sing? Can you at least lip-sync? Can you roller skate and twirl a baton? I've got to get you up on my stage! Oh, I'm so excited, I'm beside myself."

"Well, pull yourself together or we'll have to charge you a second cover," I jibed gleefully.

The poor dear laughed until he had tears in his eyes.

"Dear girl, will you share a drink with me? This is one of those truly special moments that must be commemorated."

"Jimmy, I would love to," I responded with all the charm I had in me. "Could we do it a bit later? To tell the truth, I was just about to step next door to the employee lounge for a... coffee break."

That was the code phrase Dianna taught me to use. He knew exactly what I meant.

"YOU GO, GIRL! This is your first night out, and you are already driving the little boys wild? You are going to be a star, just like Dianna!"

He grasped both my hands in his and held them tightly. I took the opportunity to transfer the twenty-dollar bill from my palm to his – a little grease to prime the business pump. He felt the bill change hands and cranked his smile up another notch.  

"Oh, you are definitely a keeper! Go do your date, Girlfriend – and use protection. I'll buzz you through from here. When you get back, we'll have that drink. Oh, if I was only twenty years younger – and attracted to women!

***

Nervous? Who, me? What would I have to be nervous about? Ten days before, I had been a happily-married, strictly-hetero commodities trader, amateur athlete, and (I thought) all-around nice guy. Now, I was a maxed-out blonde bimbo, pacing back and forth across the 'employee lounge', anxiously awaiting the arrival of her first 'date', wondering for the umpteenth time that evening what I had gotten myself into. Acquiescing to Dianna's instructions, I had managed to slip a condom over my raging hard-on with trembling hands. Getting my 'clit' back into my panties, tucked back between my thighs, had been nearly impossible.

It wasn't like Dianna had stuck a gun to my head and told me: "you have to date." If anything, she had spent the last few hours deflecting that kind of attention away from me – towards herself. Yet, when the choice was made, she had done nothing to dissuade me, other than acting put-off by my initiative. Perhaps that was the entire issue; choice. She had never forced anything on me. She had merely presented a series of options – and let me choose which way I wanted to go. What was it Chantal had said? Believe me, I know how persuasive she can be. Was my lover that good, that she could manipulate me into doing what she wanted without saying the words? A few minutes ago, I had left with the impression she didn't want me to go on this date at all. The chime of the intercom almost made me jump out of my skin.

"Yes?"

"Lisa? It's Daniel. Are you ready for me?"

Upon arrival in the New World, Cortez ordered his ships burned to the waterline. As the flames lit the night sky, his men knew there would be no turning back.

I pressed the button.

"It's open. C'mon up."

Burn, Baby, Burn!

Daniel was impressive in more than looks. He was cool about taking care of commerce right away, freeing us up for some serious pleasure. I think he liked the way I pushed him down on the bed, then undid his belt and zipper and yanked down his pants. I was impressed again when I saw the size of his 'package'. I felt positively girlish in comparison – under the circumstances, a good thing. 




Betrayed Ch. 04



During the course of my marriage, I had learned oral skills that had kept Susan in orgasmic bliss for hours. With Dianna, I had refined those skills, learning how to apply them in the way a woman pleases a man. Daniel was now receiving the benefit of my 'education'. I began with a long, slow slathering of my tongue on the underside of his penis, from his scrotal sac all the way to the tip. I gave him little flicks of my tongue all over, covering ever square centimeter with my lingual attention. I kissed the tip lightly; barely more than a touch with my pursed lips. Then, I split my lips, allowing them to just engulf the head of his cock. I went to work again with my tongue, this time while slipping my lips up and down his shaft, further and further. 

I did not even attempt to make him cum within some arbitrary time limit. This was a new and wondrous adventure for me. Perhaps it was not one I had ever envisioned for myself, but I was here, he was here, and I was determined to see it through. As much as I was enjoying this, I couldn't help but wonder how much better it might be if that wonderful cock were fucking my pussy instead of my mouth. My ministrations were obviously having the desired effect. His breathing became rapid and shallow. His body began to thrash back and forth. He had grabbed hold of my head with both hands and was fucking his cock with my face.

Then, he thrust me away forcefully.

"Stop," he gasped. "I changed my mind."

I had really been getting into it. To say I was disappointed would be putting it mildly.

"Changed your mind?" I retorted, peeved. "Honey, we don't do refunds."

"That's not what I meant," he panted. "I want, need to finish inside you. How much for that?"

My whole body twitched at the delectable thought. Chantal's words came back to me:

Girrrl, what you need is to get laid – by the biggest cock you can find.

"Lover, with credit for what you have already paid, that little 'extra' will cost you an additional hundred-twenty-five."

"If I make it one-fifty, can we go bareback?"

My eyes glazed over at the prospect of being filled to the brim with his spunk. Just as quickly, my head regained control.

"Baby, I don't know you from Adam yet. My life is worth more to me than an additional twenty-five dollars. Tonight, we play protected or we don't play at all."

He slipped me the additional cash. I slipped the jumbo-sized lubricated condom over his manhood, wet him in my mouth with a dozen or so sucks, then hiked up my skirt and slipped out of my panties. The entire contents of the K-Y tube were hurriedly deposited inside my puckered hole. At his request, I bent over the edge of the bed, holding myself up on my hands. His spit-slick cock parted my nether lips and slipped into me easily. My eyes glazed over for real. If Dianna was big; Daniel was huge by comparison. He worked me like a pro, plowing my field with animal intensity. 

It didn't take long – for either of us. I could feel him tense, feel his cock grow rigid. The Adonis grabbed my hips and thrust my body back onto his bar of steel. I was dimly aware of a girl's screams of "Fuck me, Daddy. Use your slut. Cum inside your ho'. She's nothing but a cheap cum catcher, a receptacle for your spunk. You know she's been begging for it all night. Give it to her. Harder. Harder!" I felt his rod begin to gush like a firehose through the thin latex membrane. That did it for me. My world shattered into a million pieces and fell away. A thunderous roar filled my ears. My whole body spasmed from head to toe. 

It took a long, long while to pull my fragmented psyche back together, bit by bit. Some of it, I knew, would never be the same again. I lay there panting, quivering, unable to move, even as I heard Daniel get up, zip his pants, express his thanks and leave. As my faculties returned, I realized that girl's voice exhorting Daniel to use her, fuck her, had been mine. So, too, had been the primal lust her words had given voice to. Her words, her lust, were mine. What did that make me?

As usual, Dianna had been right to have me wear a condom. Mine was not quite as full as the one Daniel had casually discarded, but at the time, it felt like it should have been. Aside from the obvious, the saving grace of sex with condoms is the relative ease of cleanup. I snatched up his in a paper towel and deposited it in the wastebasket, followed by my own. After checking myself and the bedclothes for spotting (none, thank God), I rearranged my disheveled clothing, repaired my makeup, then tidied up the bedspread and pillows for later use. I cast my eyes around the room one more time, bidding a final farewell to this last vestige of Virginity, then turned and strutted saucily out the door.

There was a profoundly more exaggerated wiggle to my walk as I slinked past the patrons to resume my seat next to my Goddess. Part was necessity; I felt I might walk bow-legged for a week. The other part was pure Drama. Although Daniel's condom had done its job, the residual slickness of all that lubricating jelly made me feel he had cum inside me in quarts. I felt really wicked, returning to my lover with a man's 'cum' filling my love nest. Baby, I played it for all it was worth for the benefit of the crowd. 

I sat a bit gingerly, crossing one leg over the other with the subtle rasp of stocking-on-stocking that was more felt than heard over the din of the sound system. I leaned close to her, nuzzled her cheek with my nose, then whispered in her ear.

"Did you miss me?"

I gently stroked her thigh through her dress to punctuate my implied intention. Dianna jerked her head around to meet my gaze. Her eyes were ablaze with emotions I had trouble interpreting. 

"Did you have a good time?" she spoke carefully.

"Uh-huh!" I gushed. "Chantal was right. She said I needed a big cock to put things in the right perspective."

"He fucked you, didn't he?" she spat.

I nodded, beaming.

"Did he ever!" I exclaimed emphatically. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"We're leaving," she hissed with grim determination.

Her coat was on in a flash. Ritchie had taken the cue; the Capezio bag was on the bar a moment later. Dianna seemed not to notice it at all. She seized my wrist firmly and propelled herself onto her feet. Thank goodness my clutch was in that hand. I just managed to grab the bag off the bar with my free hand before I was yanked off my chair. We made our way to the door as quickly as the crowd allowed. I stayed our departure long enough to express my thanks to Jimmy and beg for a rain check on his previous offer.

We reached the parking lot in record time. The Mercedes was near the end, immersed in shadow. Dianna unceremoniously threw me face-forward over the trunk of the car, then stepped behind me, spreading my thighs with her own. My skirt was bunched up around my waist and my panties at my knees before I knew it. There was nothing tender in the way she took me.

"Is this good for you too, slut?" she barked, as she pummeled my love nest with her 'clit'. "Is it as good as he was? Far be it from me to complain about 'sloppy seconds'. If you want to let some guy – or two or three – loosen you up for me, that's just fine."

Dianna thrust hard into me in tempo with her words. I had no idea what I had done to invoke her rage, but that was exactly the right word to describe her emotion. Her fiery determination almost made up for the evening chill – almost. Between her adrenaline rush and the full-length fur she wore, I was sure Dianna was toasty. I had only the thin suede jacket to ward off the cold – that and the ferocity of Dianna's attack. It wasn't like she was hurting me physically. Her words had been accurate; Daniel had loosened me up. Her assault was emotional – and hit its mark. After my experience with Daniel, and now this, I did feel like a slut. The truly scary part was, I liked it.

It was that thought that made me cum a second time that evening, even harder than the first. Dianna came too, flooding my tush with her creamy spunk. We stood there dazed, sprawled over the trunk of the car, slowly collecting our senses.

"Why?" I managed to gasp at last. "I did everything you asked. You wanted to 'show me the ropes', as you put it, and I learned that, too. Why this? What did I do wrong?"

My attacker pulled out of me, then pulled me up to face her. I could still read the intense emotion in her expression as we each rearranged our clothing. It was no longer fury that filled her eyes. She was still angry, but I somehow sensed it was not at me.

"Drive the car," she said at last.

"But, what..."

"Just drive!"

I fished through the Capezio bag for the car keys, then opened her door for her. She avoided my gaze as she settled into sumptuous leather upholstery. After closing her door, I hurried around to my side, got in, and started the engine. The five-liter V-8 roared to life, settling quickly to a silky-smooth purr. We were half-way home before Dianna broke the silence.

"Nothing," she murmured, staring out the passenger window.

"What?" I replied quizzically.

She turned to meet my gaze.

"You did nothing wrong," my companion avowed. "In fact, you did everything right – more so than I could ever have imagined... or hoped. The problem isn't you; it's me. I watched you go off with that guy, then return, looking like the cat that just ate the canary. I was...."

It was a good thing we were both buckled in. I slammed on the brakes hard enough to put us both through the windshield.

"Jealous?" I gasped incredulously. "YOU?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Missy," she intoned. "I'm human as much as the next girl. In fact, I'm just now discovering how much. I've never been in this situation before."

"You've never watched a girlfriend go off on a date with a guy?" I queried, mystified.

"Not one I really cared about, no!" she huffed. "It's different this time. You are different. I guess what I'm really trying to say is, the way I feel about you is different. I saw you with that guy and... I didn't like it."

First, I did the sensible thing – if you can call shifting a car into park in the middle of Illinois Street at one AM on a frigid Sunday morning in February 'sensible'. I unbuckled my seat belt and managed to maneuver my body across the seat and onto Dianna's lap, throwing my arms around her neck and nuzzling her nose with mine. All the while, I thanked my good sense at purchasing the sedan instead of the SL coupe.

"Baby," I purred, "do you have any idea how utterly absurd that sounds, coming from you?"

"So, it's 'absurd' I've fallen for you like a ton of bricks and I'm not afraid to admit it?" she snapped indignantly.

"Nooooo," I re-grouped quickly, "it's absurd you think you have anything to worry about. Daniel was just a guy with a dick. It was a really nice dick, to be sure, but it was just a dick. You are the one I want, the one I want to come home to – and haven't we had this conversation already?"

"Don't play word games with me, Bitch," my lover growled. "You know this is different."

"Different?" I mused coyly. "How? Because we're talking about me, instead of you?"

"Would you rather we make it about you and Susan?" she sniped.

That hurt.

"That was a low blow, Dianna," I muttered. This is different. Words count, remember? That fact that we are here, having this conversation, makes us different. Susan never afforded me that consideration; she just ran off and did it."

"And if she came to you tomorrow," Dianna inquired, "and said to you the same things we said tonight, what then? Better late than never."

I stared through those beseeching brown eyes, focused on that scenario in my head. Then, I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head.

"We've already covered that ground, too," I professed. "That ship has already sailed. It was quits when I found out about them. Here, together with you like this, it's doubly so. Over the past ten days – especially the last sixteen hours – I have had to undergo one continuous, industrial-strength suspension of disbelief to get to this point. You know what? It's working. I have jumped down the rabbit hole and am in no hurry to find my way back – as long as you are here with me. My place is just down the street and Monday morning is a whole world away. Now, can we put an end to this insanity, go home, and enjoy the rest of our weekend?"

To emphasize my point, I lightly touched my lips to hers while grinding my tush into her lap. I guess that was one more 'right button' to push.

"Just drive," she murmured – this time with a twinkle in her eyes.

We were silent as I pulled into the parking garage in the basement of my building. We rode the elevator up to my floor in continued silence. The pensive mood was broken as I opened the door to my place and admitted her. She was captivated by the opulence – opulent to her – of my place. She was further enchanted by the breathtaking view of the boat basin below and the lake beyond. A short distance away, cars whizzed across the elevated bridge where Lake Shore Drive passed over the locks separating the Chicago River from Lake Michigan.

"This is nice," she offered, staring out into the night. "Very, very nice."

The words sounded sincere, but there was that touch of distance again, as there had been before we went to Ringers. I turned her to face me.

"It is," I agreed, "now that you are here. You are the first woman I have brought here and the only one I want."

"I won't always be here," she corrected. "I told you that."

"Yes you will," I countered, "where it matters most. You will always be here..."

I pointed to my head.

"...and here...."

I pointed to my heart. Dianna sighed expressively and held me close, resting her head against my chest once more. I felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't deserve you, Lisa," she murmured, "but I am going to make it my business to change that. Count on it."

She slipped out of her fur coat, shrugging off my offer to take it for her. I thought she was still enamored with the feel of it and wanted to hold it as long as possible. She located the hall closet, selected a heavy wooden hanger, draped the coat over it, then hung it with care and gently closed the door.

"Don't forget to take it with you when you go," I prompted her.

She smiled and shook her head.

"No way. The jewels stay here, too. If I took them back to my place, who knows what freak or so-called 'friend' would rip them off when my back was turned? No Honey; they stay right here. That way, I will always have them..."

She kissed me tenderly.

"...and you to come home to. I will have you to come home to, won't I?"

I kissed her back, passionately.

"You can count on that," I replied, "and thank you."

"For?" she questioned.

"For considering this 'home'. It feels like one, with you here."

She threw me back on the couch and climbed atop me, hiking up my skirt and unbuttoning my blouse.

"What do you say we have a little 'housewarming party'? Just the two of us?" she purred. "We have so much to talk about."

***

Yes, Virginia; there IS a Chapter Five.



Betrayed Ch. 05



Chapter Five: All You Can Eat

We slept until eleven Sunday Morning, made leisurely love, then showered. It was decided this would be a casual day for Dianna and Lisa; jeans, T-shirts, and athletic shoes. With Dianna's help, I still looked good enough to eat – at least, she thought so. Dianna looked… damn, no woman had a right to look so sexy in such a sexless outfit. She filled everything out to perfection, tying off the T-shirt below her boobs to show off her twenty-two-inch waistline and navel ring. Turnabout is fair play. I wore her suede high heels the night before. Now, she fit perfectly into a pair of my Reeboks. Is it scary we wear the same sizes, or kismet?

She attacked my wig with a styling brush and comb, moving errant locks this way and that, restoring the fabulous 'do to respectability.

"There!" Dianna pronounced triumphantly, "maybe not as good as Angelo would do, but it will do for today."

"Angelo?" I questioned.

"He does all our wigs, Sweetheart," she informed me. "He's been around for ages. He used to be the stylist at Broadway Wigs. Now he has his own shop. We wouldn't think of using anyone else. When this needs to be cleaned and re-styled, I'll take you to him and introduce you."

We knew neither of us could bear to part with the beautiful hairpiece, so I made plans to send money with Dianna to reimburse Mimi. My lover assured me Angelo would be able to obtain the replacement before the following weekend.

Sunday was another shopping day. First, we went back to the same lingerie store in Water Tower Place. This time, we purchased lingerie for me. A stop at the MAC store netted makeup 'essentials' – about two shopping bags' worth. Dianna promised she would have me a genuine makeup artist by the time of the fashion show. Who better to teach me than a showgirl who had appeared on stages all over the Midwest since age sixteen?

Our next stop was the furniture store from which I had furnished my condo. I purchased a second, matching dresser for Dianna's things in accordance with our avowal that my home was now her home as well. The same bedroom collection offered a jewelry armoire and vanity table. We snapped up both, then paid a premium to have the three pieces delivered that same day.

We motored on to a theatrical makeup and supply store on the Northwest Side to acquire some special items Dianna professed I would need the following day. It was a short trip from there to Paul's studio, where I was measured for additional corsetry I would need for my ongoing figure training. Upon completion of my fitting, we hurried home to await the delivery truck, ordering a stuffed pizza from Edwardo's en route. Both arrived shortly after we did. After having the delivery men array the new furniture to our liking, I tipped them and sent them on their way. They looked crestfallen to have to leave, after having feasted their eyes on the stunning brunette and blonde 'roommates' for a half-hour.

We had a heart-to-heart discussion over pizza, concerning my future. Dianna admitted the figure training alone, in conjunction with external prosthetics, plus her makeup and deportment lessons, would probably be enough to get me by for the fashion show. The word 'probably' had hung heavily in the air between us. I knew without pressing she wanted more – a lot more. She had enumerated the options available, both surgical and otherwise.

Oh, how she wanted me to get a boob job! She didn't say so in so many words, but I could tell.

"Do you remember Sugar?" she murmured.

I nodded slowly. How could I possibly forget? Sugar also frequented Ringers. She and Dianna bore more than a passing resemblance. In fact, some in the past have mistaken one for the other – until they looked below the neckline. Dianna had full, firm D-cup breasts. She hadn't wanted to go bigger than that, avowing she liked the "All-American Girl" look. I had stifled a laugh when she told me that, thinking how much our perceptions of "All-American" were changing. Sugar, on the other hand, possessed the kind of fantasy chest that made men's eyes bulge out of their sockets and pre-cum surge like a river.

Dianna's eyes glazed over and her breathing became rapid and shallow as she described Sugar's choice of size, the procedure itself, and helping her friend through her post-op recovery period. My lover's eyes regained their focus, and she hurriedly added she just thought I should know what to expect, should I ever decide to go that route. I got the distinct impression there was – or at least, had been – more going on between the two than just 'friendship'.

Dianna tread delicately on the subject of hormones. The benefits were softening of skin and muscle tone, thickening and improved luster of the hair, development of so-called 'secondary sex characteristics' – boobs, hips and buns – not to mention increased sensitivity, particularly in the nipples. There were consequences, too. Some girls experienced hot flashes and pronounced mood swings. Others claimed the hormones made them sleepy. There were some medical risks as well, although there didn't seem to be a high incidence of them in girls our age. Of course, there was also the potential for loss of male sexual function….

My companion had been massaging my crotch as she related all of this. She had spoken those last words softly, almost reverently, as she gazed in the direction of her hand. She lifted her head; her eyes met mine. She leaned into me and kissed me tenderly. No other words were spoken on the subject, but she left no doubt where her feelings lay.

There was probably something fundamentally irrational about having a rational discussion with my paramour about methods to transform me permanently into a more feminine image. If there was, I didn't see it. At that point, it was just a discussion; nothing more. Dianna wasn't insisting on anything; she was merely offering options. To be honest, my mind was elsewhere at the moment.

Our distraction made us careless. Dianna was taking a bite of pizza and watching me, instead of what she was doing. A big piece of sausage tumbled out of the inside and plopped on her bare, taut belly, filling her navel like a jewel. She laughed and reached to retrieve it, but I was quicker. My face was there in a flash. I scooped up the errant bit of meat in my mouth, chewed, swallowed, then gently lapped up the grease in her bellybutton with my tongue. In so doing, I flicked her belly ring a couple of times. I felt her body tremble, just a little, when I did that. I glanced upward and met her eyes. We just stared for a moment, silently. 

I took the pizza from her hand and gently dragged the tip across her belly, smearing tomato and meat juice in a broad swath across her flesh. I followed with light, delicate laves of my tongue, cleansing her skin where I had soiled it. She trembled again. Goosebumps covered her soft flesh. I made my way higher, peeling her T-shirt over her head with my free hand. I dripped juice on one breast, then the other, licking and sucking each in turn. She was trembling openly, continuously now, mewing quietly and holding my head with both hands. I had never before seen her nipples so erect, straining. Nor had they ever tasted so good!

I had to lay the pizza down. I needed both hands to pull her from the sofa, lay her on the floor, then peel off her shoes, socks, jeans, and panties. This time, I left a trail of sausage, pepperoni, onion, green pepper, mozzarella, and elephant garlic across both thighs. Then, I feasted my way upwards, alternating from one side to the other, nipping tenderly at her quivering flesh as I snapped up each delicacy in turn. Dianna's mews turned to soft moans as I approached the "V" where her thighs met.

Her magnificent clit stood tall and turgid before me, vibrating with need. I slathered it generously with rich, tomato-y goop, then set upon this next hunk of 'sausage' with my mouth as though possessed. Every luscious lick, nibble, and slurp was a four-star taste sensation, mixed with her own flowing 'juice'. Dianna was thrashing back and forth wildly, her moans replaced by shrieks. I had to hold her wrists firmly to prevent her bucking me off before I was good and ready to release her. From what I could tell, release was close at hand.

I didn't anticipate the strength the adrenaline rush would give her. She broke free of my grasp, twisted her body to one side and hurled me towards the couch at the same time. I landed on my knees, slumped over the cushions. Dianna was on me in a flash, straddling my thighs and pinning my body with her own. 

"What an exciting dining sensation you have come up with, Sweetheart," she purred in my ear. "Let's see if it is as good the other way."

She held me down with one hand between my shoulder blades. I heard the rustling of cardboard behind me. The first tentative drippings down my spine tickled. They were followed by heavier plops as something more substantial landed on my skin. The soft, feathery touch of her lips and the tip of her talented tongue were sweet torture. She began at the nape of my neck and worked her way downward, alternately licking, nipping, and sucking as I had done. Moments passed like hours, caught up in the agony of sensation and anticipation.

She shifted her knees to the inside of my thighs, spreading them apart. A thick wedge of pizza was dragged between my spread cheeks, sloughing off a thick layer of juice, sauce, and ingredients. She took her time with teeth and tongue, slurping up this concoction from her 'bowl'. Her tongue probed my love blossom, opening it up, making it slick with tomato and meat juice.

"I am so glad you are not a Vegan," Dianna cooed behind me. "I like my dinners… meaty!"

She timed her lunge with her words. Her slick, greasy fuckpole mated with my equally-slick, greasy love nest in one quick thrust. I grunted aloud – from surprise, not pain. After the previous two days, I was well beyond hurting from her sexual advances. At the same time, her greasy hand softly stroked my own rigid love rod.

I raised upright on my knees. Dianna held me close, thrusting in and out firmly. She continued to stroke my 'clit' with one hand while pinching my nipples with her other. I felt my heart hammering in my chest. My eyes focused, unseeing, on some point high on the opposite wall. My entire being was focused on the points of her triple assault. 

"Baby," she murmured, "I can't begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed dinner. Let me take care of dessert."

Was the torrent of molten lava from her volcano, or my own? I couldn't tell. Every nerve synapse in my body seemed to fire at once. I jerked repeatedly, spasmodically, and would have fallen over if she were not holding me. Then again, Dianna didn't feel all that steady, either. She held on tight and we somehow managed to remain upright. The slick heat from within me confirmed both volcanoes had erupted at once.

Her hand covered my mouth. I opened, and was treated to the most incredible, aromatic elixir of tomato-basil-oregano-flavored cum. I gulped it down greedily, then lapped the remnants from her palm. I felt her hot breath in my ear as she gently nipped my earlobe.

"Emeril Lagasse has nothing on you, My Love," she purred. "So, what can you do with Barbeque?" 



Betrayed Ch. 05



Proofread by Ton8ty. Thank you for all the effort and hard work.

======================

Hank ran to the barracks. "Jon, George come with me! We have a runaway on our hands. Tim, you take first watch out front. The rest of you get this place cleaned up!"

They ran to the van and Hank glanced at the scanner. "Due South probably about two miles," he said. George started the van and headed out.

"Looks like she's gone to ground. She should be easy to get now," said Hank as he watched the signal slow and then stop. He left George in the van while he headed toward the trees with Jon.

* * * * *

Cindy hadn't intended to run. When Hank left her at the front door, she watched as he ran back to the barracks and went inside. She couldn't ever remember her body hurting so much, but she didn't want to again face Master Samuel's anger and more punishment. She turned and fled toward the open gate, through and down the road.

She had often observed her Masters leaving and turning right onto the road, so she choose to go left instead. After a mile, she started to slow as her body was almost at the end of its endurance. She knew she needed cover in case they came looking for her and spotted a grove of dense brush and trees in the distance. She headed towards it, hoping that it might also contain some water.

Cindy pushed through the brush, scratching her already bruised body. There wasn't any water, but, by then, she was completely exhausted. She lay on the grass and closed her eyes. The next thing she felt was strong hands grasping her arms and forcing her to stand.

"Come on, slut, your Masters want to see you," laughed Hank as he hauled her to her feet. Jon came from behind and bound her wrists in ties while Cindy cried. They walked her back to the road and waiting vehicle.

"Okay. Let's get her back so I can get something to eat," said Hank. George did a u-turn and headed back to the house. They pulled up in front of the house; Hank got out and dragged Cindy out of the side door.

"You two go back. Tell Earl he's standing guard duty as of now. Tim can be his relief. They both owe for what they did," said Hank angrily. He walked Cindy to the front door and knocked. 

* * * * *

Mike held Angela in his arms and kissed her forehead. His eyes once again scanned her bruised and beaten body with remorse. He thought of all he had been through and, now, all that she had endured as well. He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against her head. 'I love her' he finally admitted to himself and, in doing, knew her punishment had come to an end. Now, he was only thinking of her recovering and furthering her training.

Sam watched his brother's tenderness. "What are you thinking, Mike?"

Mike opened his eyes and looked over at his brother. "It's over," he said with finality.

Sam rose from his chair with an angry scowl on his face. "You can't be serious! Not after what this bitch did to you! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

"No," said Mike calmly. "I've found my heart. She's gone through enough while I was in as well as now. It's over," he said once again.

Sam started pacing the room his anger making his blood boil. He finally stopped and stared hard at his brother. "After all I've gone through, I can't believe you're doing this to me, for this slut!"

Mike cocked an eyebrow at his brother. "All you've been through? I thought you were doing it for me. What really was your motive, Sam? What exactly am I doing to you?"

Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest and then felt his anger dissipate. "I'm sorry Mike you've definitely been through more than me." He sat back down and ran his fingers through his hair.

"And?" asked Mike.

Sam sighed heavily, "I guess I thought we would keep her here indefinitely, punishing her for what she did to you."

Mike looked at his brother with sad eyes. "That was never my plan, Sam. 'Indefinitely' is a very long time to hate; it eats away at the soul. I don't hate her anymore. She has shown me loyalty and courage. I love her, Sam, and I forgive her. I'm proud of her."

Sam was quiet for a few minutes. "I'll give her that. Angela showed better sub behavior today than Cindy did for all of her, so called, training. She obeyed without question and submitted to their brutality. By the way, I'm sorry Mike. I didn't know they would do that to either one of them."

Mike felt the time was right to address his other concern. "Sam," he said gently, "can you find it within yourself to forgive Cindy or will you torture her again?"

Sam was silent for a long time, but never broke eye contact with Mike. Mike eased Angela down on the couch and walked over to his brother. Sam stood up and there was barely five inches between them. Mike laid a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I saw what you did to Cindy," he confessed. "While I was taking care of Angela, I took a break and passed the monitor room. I didn't touch her afterwards because of your cruel and, I believe, inhumane treatment. I was never treated that badly when I was in prison. What's happened to you, Sam?"

Sam's eyes started to tear. "I don't know. I -- I ...," and could get no further. Mike hugged his brother to his chest.

"If you ever feel like that again, I'm asking you to talk with me, Sam. You need to learn to back off and not let the darkness I saw take you over. Please Sam, for my sake as well as your's," Mike pleaded.

Sam got himself under control and looked into Mike's caring and compassionate eyes. He nodded his head. "I don't know when it started, Mike. It just seemed like the violence kept escalating beyond my control. The more and harder I punished, the more I wanted to."

"May I suggest then, that from now on either I'm present to help you back off or you leave all punishment to me? I'm sure that if I can help Angela with her problem, then I can help you with your's," Mike said soothingly. Sam, once again, nodded his head in agreement.

"Maybe planning, building and managing the resort will help in your recovery. Your mind needs another outlet besides torturing," Mike said firmly.

Sam sighed, "Maybe you're right. With you present to remind me to punish and not hurt, I should be able to control this and the resort is a good idea. I can always just lock them in the cage until the suitable punishment can be administered." Just then there was loud knocking at the front door.

They both went to the front door; Sam opened it. 

"Got her," said Hank.

Cindy stood there crying and shaking. Sam felt another wave of anger hit, but turned to Mike. "I'll take Angela upstairs and put her to bed for you. You take care of Cindy." He left for the living room.

Mike smiled and nodded his head. He stepped out onto the porch and took Cindy by the elbow. "Thanks, Hank, I'll see to her." Hank smiled and left for the barracks.

Mike guided Cindy into the house and shut the door. He turned her around and released her wrists. "Follow me," he said and started towards the kitchen with a tearful Cindy trailing after him.

They entered the basement room and Cindy started the cry harder; she wasn't sure which Master had her and she was afraid off what would happen to her. Mike looked at her bruised breasts and body; he noted the scratches and some blood around her nipple rings.

"Come to the shower Cindy and let's get you clean," he said. He walked over to the shower, turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Cindy followed, sniffling; she was almost certain that it was Master Michael now.

"I want you to wash thoroughly and shampoo your hair. I'll be waiting for you when you finish so I can treat your wounds," he said and left her in the shower.

Cindy stepped under the hot water and slowly cleaned herself as instructed. Mike busied himself with searching the cabinets for everything he needed and laying it on the counter. When all was set, he walked back to give Cindy a towel. She shut the water off and dried herself.

Mike walked her back and pulled the chair to the counter. "Sit here, Cindy."

Cindy carefully sat in the chair. Her eyes started tearing again when she saw that he held pliers in hand. 

"Easy, Cindy," said Mike, "I'm going to remove your rings so that there's no more damage." He took gauze and poured some liquid onto and rubbed it over her nipples, causing numbness. He broke the lock on the rings and removed them from her nipples. He applied more liquid to ease her pain and then an ointment to prevent infection. After he treated all her cuts, he started to put the supplies away.

"Am I forgiven then, Master?" Cindy asked quietly.

"No, Cindy. What you did this afternoon was your final transgression and has sealed your fate. You are going to be returned and replaced," said Mike. "You will remain in the cage until that takes place."

"Please, Master Michael, I don't want to leave!" she cried.

Mike gently lifted her chin to look into his eyes. "Cindy, you disobeyed, questioned, showed disrespect and then ran. We're sending you back and they can retrain you for another Master. It's final."

"Everything was fine until that other slut, Master!" she yelled. She blanched when anger crossed Mike's face.

"And you back talk. In the cage," and he lifted her by the arm and walked her over to the cage. "I'll bring you something to eat and drink when Ellen gets it done." Mike walked out of the room and sealed the door.

Mike made his way up the stairs and into the kitchen. Ellen was just starting on dinner and turned to kneel at his feet.

"Ellen, can you fix sandwiches and other things for six hungry men?" he asked.

"When would you like it, Master?" she inquired.

"Before you start our dinner; let me know when they're ready and I'll take them over. I don't want you anywhere near the barracks," he said firmly.

"Yes, Master," Ellen said and started to unload what she needed from the refrigerators onto the kitchen table.

Mike left and went into the living room. Sam was in the lounger and sipping at his drink. He sat on the couch and picked up his own. "I've treated her, told her she was leaving and placed her in the cage."

Sam nodded his head. "I put Angela back into Cindy's room, but left the door unlocked. Thanks for taking care of Cindy, Mike."

"I told Ellen to prepare sandwiches and the like for the men. You or I can take it to them. I told her not to go near any of them," Mike said and then took a swallow of his drink.

"Thanks. I forgot they might be hungry. I think I'd better spend some quiet time in my study to start organizing better," admitted Sam. "I told Hank earlier to give me his preferences for four subs, but I don't think so now. Not after today."

"I agree. Why don't you help me take the meal over to them? You can tell Hank and then come back to start planning while Ellen is fixing dinner" said Mike as he finished his drink.

Sam finished his drink and they both went to the kitchen. Between the three of them, they loaded two boxes with an assortment of food. "Ellen, you need to open the front door for us," Sam said. She rushed ahead, first opening the kitchen door and then the front door.

Sam and Mike arrived at the barracks, placed the boxes against the wall and Sam knocked on the door. Hank opened it up and was surprised, but pleased to see them. "We were just discussing what to do for dinner since we're not supposed to go near the locals."

"You and your men can go into town to eat and whore," said Sam. "No subs after what happened here today. Just tell them to keep their mouths shut," he said sternly.

"Okay," said Hank. "Can't blame you; again, I'm sorry about what happened," said Hank. He turned his head and shouted, "George, Jon, come get this food!"

George was the first out the door and didn't know what hit him. He was suddenly on his back and his mouth hurt. He shook his head and tried to clear it when, suddenly, pain shoot through his ribs. More excruciating pain in his groin caused him to black out completely.

Sam and Hank stood stunned when Mike hauled back and hit George in the mouth, then kicked him in the ribs and winced when he smashed him in the groin. "Mike?" questioned Sam.

Mike fists were balled in rage. "He's one of the ones that raped me in prison," said Mike, barely controlling his own rage.

Sam turned to Hank, "All of them, out here, now. We'll see who stays and," he looked down at the man on the ground, "who goes."

Hank swallowed hard. "Sure thing," he turned to yell into the barracks again. "Everyone out here now!" Jon was already in the doorway and stepped over George's body. Two more faces appeared in the door.

"Where's the other man?" said Sam.

"Jon, go relieve Earl and tell him double-time!" shouted Hank.

Jon sprinted over to the guard shack and Earl ran to join the group of men. Mike looked into his face. "All stay, but this piece of filth," he said pointing to the body on the ground, but keeping his eyes on Hank. "I'll look at the rest when they arrive." 

"He'll be out of here by morning. You have my word on it," said Hank and offered his hand. Mike took the hand and firmly shook it. Both brothers turned and walked back to the house, leaving Hank to deal with the mess.

Sam and Mike entered the house. Mike leaned up against the wall, examined his aching hand and flexed his fingers. "That felt good."

Sam put his arm around Mike's shoulder. "I bet it did. Why don't you check on Angela and I'll tell Ellen that I'll be in my study."

Mike nodded and crossed into the living room and up the stairs. He quietly opened the door and Angela was sitting up, propped against the headboard. He shut the door and sat on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine, Master Michael. Just a little dizzy from whatever Master Samuel gave me," she said and smiled into his eyes.

Mike curled up next to her, placed his hand gently on her face and lightly kissed her lips. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes then hugged her to his chest.

Angela looked into his eyes and could feel her heart beating faster. It was like looking into the eyes of her old Master Michael. "Master Michael ..." she began, but he gently placed his fingers against her lips.

"Angela, I forgive you," Mike said.

Angela started crying and hugged him back hard. "With your help, Master Michael, I know I can make it. I love you, Master Michael."

"I love you too, Angela," he said. 

She sat up, stared into his eyes and smiled through her tears. "I'll work really hard to please you, Master Michael."

"I know you will, Angela. We've already made strides in your addiction. It'll be a long, hard struggle and you'll have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Master Michael," and she cast her eyes down.

His hand pushed her hair back and lifted her chin. He kissed her gently yet passionately while his hand caressed her body. She felt her body responding to his touch and moaned lightly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, rolled off the bed and removed his clothes, revealing that he was already hard.

Mike crawled in next to her and kissed along her neck while his hand traveled down to her mound. Her breathing picked up and her hips rose when his finger brushed against her clit. "Someone's already excited," he smiled as she continued to moan.

"Please, Master Michael, please fuck me," she pleaded. "I need to feel you in me so badly; it's been so long."

Mike gently rolled between her legs and slowly inserted his hard cock into her wet pussy. Angela started sucking in shallow quick breaths and moaning more. Mike smiled at her again, "Angela, you don't need my permission to cum tonight."

Angela nodded her head and he started to slowly stroke in and out of her. He pinned her bad arm on the bed to keep her from injuring it further. He avoided her bruised breasts entirely, but her nipples were hard and pointing upward. He kept pumping and looking at her reactions.

Mike smiled when he could tell she was close to an orgasm. He sped up faster and then she came, her juices covering his cock. His pace became even faster and he felt his balls tighten just before he shot his cum deep inside of her pussy. He withdrew and lay beside the panting woman and cuddled her next to his body. 

"Angela, do you realize you just came without pain?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Master Michael," said Angela, "but I am in pain already. I'll not lie ever again. Can we try it again once I'm not in pain?"

Mike laughed, "Yes, and many more times until you can orgasm both with and without some pain."

Angela laid her head in the crook of his arm and then placed her broken wrist on his chest, "Thank you, Master Michael. I won't let you down again. I love you." She yawned and then shut her eyes.

Mike stayed still until he felt and heard her deep sleep pattern. He eased off the bed, redressed and looked at her sprawled in the bed. He smiled, opened the door, and eased out. Then he shut it quietly and went downstairs.



Betrayed Ch. 06



Chapter Six: The Seven Levels of Hell

Monday was the most vile, loathsome day of my life – for no earthly reason other than having to be me. The first thing I had to come to grips with was who 'me' was that particular morning. 'Lance' had to put in an appearance at the office. Back to the old routine, go out there and make the big bucks. F Troop back to normal, Sir! Simple, right? After the most mind-blowing weekend of my life – as 'Lisa' – it was anything but. Identity Crisis?Don't even go there!This wasn't the Monday from Hell; this was Hell – all seven levels of it.

The First Level of Hell was waking up alone. I had taken my beautiful girlfriend back to her place after our erotic dinner.

"Baby, I have to go to work at the club," she had chided softly, "and you have to work first thing in the morning." 

I offered to accompany her, as I had done Saturday night. She just shook her head.

"Not this time," she demurred. "This is going to sound really evil of me, but I don't want you there getting hit on by guys. I didn't handle it well last night and I don't think I would handle it any better a second night in a row. I know I'm being such a hypocrite, but this – us - is as new to me as it is to you. Let me get used to the idea of you being with me before I have to reconcile you being... well, you know what I mean. I promise we'll get together later this week, 'kay?"

She had had to return to her life, just as I now had to return to mine. To emphasize the point she considered my condo 'home', Dianna had neatly folded and stowed her purchased lingerie, stockings, and corset in her dresser drawers, then helped me do the same with mine. Her gown, sandals, and fur coat remained in my closet and her jewels were in my armoire. My lover admitted the special sense of sharing with me at such an intimate level – her things together with mine - gave her warm fuzzy feelings. She had gifted me the suede suit, blouse and mules, observing how good they had looked on me the night before and pronouncing them a small, inadequate token of her love for me, which paled in comparison to what I had lavished on her. 

I did my morning roadwork on the empty, pre-dawn streets of Streeterville. Blocks away, Lake Shore Drive was already filling with the morning crush of traffic; the blue-collars who punched in at six and seven, as well as the workaholic white-collars whose ascent of the corporate ladder superceded a little extra shut-eye. The Japanese no longer had a lock on the 'salaryman' lifestyle – nor its killing results. I showered – equally alone, and feeling it – brushed my teeth, dried my hair, then sat down on my bed and faced the daunting prospect of the coming day.

The Second Level of Hell was dressing for work. A suit and tie? How... drab. The thought of a cotton T-shirt and briefs was just plain revolting after a weekend of something much smoother and softer nestled against my skin. There was also the issue of figure training for the fashion show Dianna and I would be doing in fourteen weeks. She had admonished me doing it right was a constant, everyday process, no different than my running. Dianna had agreed it would be best for now if I did not attempt to wear my breast forms under my suit. We would allow those around me time to adjust, even as my body adjusted.

The whole concept of me as a femme fetish fashion model had seemed such a ghastly joke when she and Paul had proposed it. Now, I hoped I would be ready in time. No one at the office will notice the black satin corset under my suit, right? Or the panties? Or the stockings? Or the silk chemise worn in place of the T-shirt? The suede outfit, plus Dianna's red gown, sandals, and fabulous Silver Fox coat mocked me as I dressed in my unflattering business attire. I stared wistfully at the suede mules, then slipped on my black Florsheimloafers.

The Third Level of Hell was my personal grooming. The earrings – all of them – had come out the night before. Dianna had filled the holes with tiny plastic training plugs to keep them open. With a little concealer, they weren't noticeable unless you were really up close and looking for them. My plucked eyebrows had to be replaced with prosthetics, attached with spirit gum. We had purchased both, plus the concealer, at the specialty theatrical makeup store. No matter how 'natural' they looked, it now felt unnatural to me to see the low, thick, shapeless male brows. The beautiful long nails, each attached with a drop of superglue, had been carefully pried off with an orange stick and put away in the vanity. The nails underneath were then lightly filed and buffed to some semblance of normalcy (Ugh! There's that word again).

The Fourth Level of Hell would be making a conscious effort not to swish in front of my co-workers. I had to remember to move like a man? I had to concentrate on not making those small, graceful gestures with my hands as I talked, or reach up to play with my hair or earrings, which weren't there anyway? Cross one ankle over your knee, sideways, Lance; not knee-over-knee, in-line. How funny is that? Think Victor, Victoria in reverse; a man, pretending to be a woman, pretending to be a man.

What was happening to me, to my confident self-image as a man? Had I been seduced so easily to "the dark side" by this beautiful, mysterious woman? Or had that image been yet another carefully-cultivated lie, and Dianna merely the catalyst to release my own latent childhood desires, just as I had told her she had merely been the catalyst for leaving my wife? Was my life falling apart – or at long last coming together? So many questions; so few answers.

Oh, I would put on a good show. That's exactly what it would be; a show, for the benefit of Management and my co-workers. I would be watching their eyes intently, looking for some glimmer of amusement, or realization, or... something. Hopefully, I would see none. Figure this one out; if I aroused no suspicion, I would feel relieved – and disappointed. Place index finger between lips, then thrum: beebeebeebeebeebeebeebee....

The Fifth Level of Hell was knowing the prospect of living this schizoid existence faced me day in, day out, for the indefinite future. Even as 'Lance' walked out the door, Lisa's memories of the night before were crowding out everything else. While we were making love, Dianna had played with my nipples with her fingernails. That had felt so good! At the same time, I had felt her breasts pressing into my back. In the throes of ecstasy, my mind had played a dirty little trick on me. In it, those beautiful boobies had passed right through my body and attached themselves to my chest.

I thought back to our discussion of surgery, hormones, and other avenues of transformation used by T-girls to achieve their goal. Realistically, I couldn't consider getting a boob job or any other major, invasive procedure – at least, not under the rationale of looking more feminine for the fashion show. Memorial Day weekend was only fourteen weeks away. That 'hard ceiling' precluded the lengthy, involved process of consultations, lab tests, the surgery itself, then the long post-op recovery. Why was I even dwelling on it? A couple of weeks before, I would have labeled the notion 'absurd'. There was also the issue of what to tell my co-workers if I suddenly showed up for work as a very-obvious D-cupper – or more – not to mention the other work we were contemplating. Still, the idea was intriguing....

The Sixth Level of Hell had been waiting for me outside my office building when I arrived for work. Susan had already tried and failed with subterfuge, denial, badgering, threats and insults. Now, she was at her charming best. The short, tight suit beneath the open trenchcoat was just a little too revealing to be business-chic. The stockings and five-inch stilettos were a dead give-away. Jeff Spencer wasn't the only one capable of offering up the Big Play. The mercury-vapor streetlights on LaSalle Street were superfluous when my wife turned on her smile.

"Sweetheart," she purred, "how are you? I'm sorry to have to corner you this way, but you left me no choice. Look, I'm really sorry about all this. I never told you about my little... peccadillo because I knew how much it would hurt you. I didn't want to do that."

Funny; she didn't say it was wrong of her to have an affair in the first place. Nor did she indicate she was going to stop seeing Jeff Spencer.

"You made your point, Baby," she continued. "You are still just as attractive to women as the day I met you. What woman could resist you when you turn on the charm – especially when you start pampering them the way you have always pampered me? Let's face it; we are two beautiful people. We belong together, just as we always have. Can we please put this silly tiff behind us? Come home to me; I miss you."

She made it sound so reasonable – until you looked past the half-truths and misdirection. My lawyer had advised me about this possible scenario. Without re-hashing the Legalese mumbo-jumbo, it came down to this: if I were to take her back now, knowing what I knew, it would, in the eyes of the court, be a tacit acceptance of her infidelity. My iron-clad grounds for divorce would instantly evaporate, leaving me the untenable choice of allowing her to rape me financially in a continued divorce action, or reconcile and become her cuckold.

"I miss you, too," I admitted.

That wasn't a lie. It isn't easy to piss away eight mostly-happy years. Then again, I wasn't about to swallow this most egregious transgression on her part, whatever her rationale. I wasn't exactly facing my uncertain future alone, either.

"I promise I will give it careful thought for the next few days and let you know what I want to do," I finished.

She squeezed my arm and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. I was glad she did not attempt to hug me. Even through the heavy overcoat, that could have led to a problematic 'discovery'.

"Thank you, Sweetheart," she cooed. "I know I can't ask more than that right now. You have always been fair. That is just one of a million things, big and small, I love about you."

Would someone please get me a shovel? This is getting really deep. She gently stroked my cheek with her hand.

"I'll be waiting for your call, Lover," she murmured, smiling.

I watched her strut regally towards the curb and her waiting Lexus. Knowing I would be watching, she tossed in an exaggerated wiggle that rivaled Dianna's. She stopped abruptly, turning her head to look at me over her shoulder.

"...and Lance?" she added. "She was lovely, whoever she was. Feisty, too. You always have had impeccable taste in women."

I wasn't sure if that last compliment had been intended towards Dianna or Susan herself. Either my wife was a very good actress or Jeff, as I had surmised, had not revealed Dianna's secret to her. The fact that Susan had referred to her rival in the past tense was not lost upon me. Fait accompli; in Susan's eyes, the usurper stood no chance. Her towering arrogance, heaped atop her other faults, appalled me. 

Why would she even bother with this charade in the first place? Together, the two of them would have everything she wanted; prestige, money, security, and a big dick. Was she trying to get me back just to prove she could?I would contact my lawyer as soon as I got to my desk, inform him of this new development, and have him instruct the investigator to keep digging.

The usual suspects in the office extended their bright, cheery greetings. I walked into the wing that housed the offices of the firm's half-dozen heavyweight traders – myself included. My office was one of the middle two. Angie, our secretary, sat at a desk on the opposite side, facing my door. In the two years she had worked for our group, she had been one of the brightest spots in my business life. 

To put it delicately, Angie was a dish: a five-foot, six-inch Latina from the Northwest Side, with thick, wavy raven hair that shimmered with blue overtones when the light hit it. She possessed dark, expressive eyes and a voluptuous body that threatened to rip through whatever tight outfit she wore on any given day. 

That she 'overdressed' for the office, or did her hair and makeup more expressively than most – by conservative, politically-correct Anglo standards – was a given, and a delightful daily distraction to the male members of the staff. If her overfull hips, tush and thighs (at least, the female Anglo staffers described them as such) swiveled a bit too much to be considered good office decorum, again, no one in our wing was complaining. 

Employee Relations periodically made noises, circulating memos concerning "appropriate business attire and personal grooming" – no doubt egged on by unnamed catty co-workers. Nothing had ever come of it and nothing ever would on our watch. All six senior traders – with myself in the lead – had sent a memo to Management, threatening to walk out en masse if any action was taken against her without cause. Money talks louder than petty jealousy in our world and the noises stopped. We kept a close watch on Angie's performance reviews to ensure no 'cause' was ever manufactured. Call it pandering, chauvinism, or whatever you like; we protect our own, and we considered Angie one of us. How she dressed, what she did on her own time, and who she did it with was nobody's business but hers, as long as the work got done. 

Although Angie flirted with all the men she worked for, she had always flirted with me most of all. I had always, in Bill Clinton's words, "lusted for her in my heart" and flirted back. What man wouldn't? In my devotion to Susan, I had always kept it at just that. When my rumored marital crisis had become fodder around the water cooler the previous week, Angie had taken it upon herself to distract me from my problems as best she could. Our secretary had been especially friendly and solicitous of me – and seemed determined to push the edge of the dress code 'envelope' to the breaking point. Her 'distraction' made me wonder if she might have more than business continuity in mind.

"Busy weekend, Boss?" Angie chirped.

It was impossible for my spirits not to lift in the presence of that engaging, infectious smile. The heart-stopping tease was dressed in a tight white suit whose skirt ended just below her knee. The tight skirt accentuated her narrow waist and hobbled her gait, causing her to undulate her tush in an exaggerated manner. The jacket had wide-spaced lapels. Beneath it, she wore a fuscia silk blouse that was unbuttoned to the "V" of her lapels. The obviously-braless DD-cup breasts jiggled sweetly as she moved. Her legs were clad in suntan stockings, dipping to fuscia ankle-strap pumps with five-inch heels. She placed her hands flat on my desk and leaned over, affording me an unrestricted view of her chasm of cleavage.

"Yeah, Ang," I admitted. "I have to say it was a really good one, too."

"I'll bet," she giggled with a wink. "You have that just-fucked glow about you. A girl can tell."

I almost jumped right out of my chair on that one. Was I wearing a neon sign around my neck, or what? I decided her comment had been innocent enough.

"Ya got me, Angie," I confessed good-naturedly. "She was good, too. I should know better than to try to pull the wool over your eyes."

"Damn straight!" she expressed. "So, not the Ex?"

"No, Angie," I confirmed, "not the Ex."

"Goooood," she purred. "That means there is finally hope for the rest of us peónes."

I reached across the desk, covered her hand with mine, and gazed into those big, expressive eyes.

"Whatever you may be," I intoned softly, "you are not a peon."

Her eyes seemed to melt – then adopted a more serious appraisal of me.

"Are you eating okay, Lance?" she queried.

"Yeah," I asserted. "Why?"

"Oh, I dunno," the lovely Latina teased. "It's just that you seem to have... lost weight."

I did flinch on that one. Her smile didn't lose an ounce of sincerity as she pulled her hand from underneath and placed it lightly atop mine.

"I mean, you still look good," she recovered quickly, "really, really good. I was just... complimenting you, is all..."

She stroked the back of my hand lightly with her perfect, polished fingernails.

"... and anytime you are ready to find out 'whatever I may be'," she murmured, "just let me know."

She pivoted on her toes and made for the door. For the second time in twenty minutes, I was treated to the sight of a lush, undulating tush strutting confidently on impossibly-high heels. The fabric of the skirt was stretched so tightly across her rear end, I could plainly see the deep crevasse where her lush ass cheeks met. She paused in the doorway, gazed over her shoulder and winked.

"I'll be right outside your door, okay?" she purred. "But then, you already know that."

O – kaaaaaaaay! Well, I guess we cleared the air on that issue. Now I had something else to occupy my thoughts.

The Seventh Level of Hell was the most daunting of all; attempting to reconcile Dianna's overtly-promiscuous lifestyle with her expressed love for me. Could I learn to trust Dianna, despite her multiple sexual partners – especially after Susan had betrayed my trust in her? It boiled down to the twin matters of honesty and choice. Dianna had been honest with me up front – almost brutally so. She had offered me a choice; accept her for what she was, or not at all. But did she accept me?Suddenly Chantal's words popped into my head:

Dianna loves to fuck... but that is just sex. When it comes to love, Miss Dianna is a hard-core lipstick lesbian. That girl is crazy for you, Sweetie!

Having experienced that mindset from the other side and witnessing, first-hand, Dianna's poignant reaction to my 'date' with Daniel, I knew exactly what Chantal was talking about – more so than 'Lance' alone ever could. I had certainly been attractive enough to Daniel – and probably would be to other men as well. It was a 'trust' issue, all right; trusting myself to be desirable enough that Dianna could have sex with someone else, but love me and me alone. If anything was going to sabotage my relationship with her, it would be my own petty insecurity, not one of her anonymous sexual partners.

A cold chill gripped the pit of my stomach. Was I holding Susan to an unfair double standard? The circle came around once more to the issues of honesty and choice. Had Susan been honest with me about her needs, as Dianna had? Not even close. Susan had, not an hour before, offered me a choice, but it was a choice in name only and only because I had forced her hand. Dianna had even predicted it:

And if she came to you tomorrow and said the same things we said tonight, what then? Better late than never. 

Susan had not said the same things. She had dangled attractive bait before my eyes; what would, for her, amount to a get-out-of-jail-free card. Any 'contrition', it was clear, was expected to come from me, not her. She had not even hinted she would end her affair with Jeff Spencer. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. If I gave her a taste of her own medicine, as either Lance or Lisa, she would likely turn around and divorce me – and take me to the cleaners.

Of course, STD's are an issue when multiple partners are involved, but a manageable one if proper precaution is taken. Dishonesty is not manageable. Lack of trust is a plague on all houses. Could I trust Susan again? No way, José. Could I trust Dianna? Trust has to be earned over time, but I perceived she had been honest with me. That goes a long way towards establishing trust.




Betrayed Ch. 06



Proofread by Ton8ty. Thank you for all the effort and hard work.

=====================

George sat in a New York City police station contemplating his next long stretch for the armed robbery fiasco; this time they promised him it would be for twenty. He glanced around the station while he waited to be processed. His eye caught the sight of a familiar face, this one posted on a missing person report. He smiled and considered the deal he could cut by informing them just where the slut was being held.

*****

Mike looked across the room at Sam and waited for him to speak. He seemed very pensive today, but Mike had become a much more patient man while in prison. Mike was still working with both Angela and Sam; they were making progress with their addictions. 

Sam suddenly jerked up from his chair and began pacing the room like a caged cat in a zoo. He stopped abruptly, paced some more and then flopped back down in his chair to once again study the carpet. Mike concluded it must be a major decision or problem and decided to wait until Sam got it worked out in his head. 

Sam finally pulled two small scrolls from his pocket, each tied with a silk ribbon. Mike's curiosity was piqued, but he kept silent, waiting for Sam to speak first.

"Ever since we sent Cindy back ... I've been meaning to tell you ..." Sam grew silent again, studying the carpet. The silence hung heavy in the room. Sam twisted the scrolls between the fingers of both hands.

Mike could no longer keep quiet. "Tell me what, Sam?"

Sam looked up, startled, like he had forgotten that Mike was in the room and then gazed into his brother's eyes. "Neither Cindy nor Ellen was here by free choice, but they weren't kidnapped like Angela. Cindy and Ellen were purchased at a slave market."

Mike let out his breath in a puff, not even realizing he had been holding it as he let Sam's words sink in. He rose slowly from the couch and crossed over to Sam. His eyes reflected his concern for what his brother had said and done.

"That's why I decided not to replace Cindy." Sam held up one of the scrolls he had been toying with. "I'm setting Ellen free. I'm giving her the choice of being with me of her own free will." He stood and held out the second scroll to Mike. "I've made an identical one, if you'd like to give it to Angela."

Mike now understood why Sam was on edge. Sam was afraid that, if he released Ellen, she would leave him and Mike knew that Sam had feelings for her. Mike also realized that he had not given Angela the freedom of choice either. He hesitated, but only briefly, before he took the offered scroll and called Angela and Ellen into the room. Angela came and knelt at his feet while Ellen went and knelt at Master Samuel's.

"We'd like you both to sit on the couch," said Sam solemnly as he nodded to Mike. They each walked over and stood in front of the women.

Sam looked at his brother again and Mike nodded his head for Sam to go first. Sam took a deep breath before proceeding.

"Ellen," he said softly, his eyes reflecting his love for her. "I have told you many times how much I love you, but, now I'm showing you by giving you the greatest gift I can bestow on you." Sam handed her the small scroll. "I'm giving you your freedom, Ellen, and the choice to either stay with me of your own free will or to go and make a life of your own." Sam's heart was beating fast as he waited for her answer.

Angela held her breath, realizing that Master Michael must be planning the same choice for her. She watched as tears started to flow down Ellen's face. Master Samuel knelt down and cupped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss. 

"I love you, Ellen, and would like you to marry me." Sam waited for Ellen to compose herself. She couldn't answer, but nodded her head that she would, smiling through her tears. Sam smiled, hugged her tightly and kissed her passionately.

When Angela looked up at Master Michael, he knelt at her feet and presented her with the small scroll. "I can't say I'm sorry we kidnapped you, because I love you. I'm also setting you free, Angela, to choose of your own free will. You are no longer a prisoner here either. Angela, I would like you to marry me and share our lives together."

Angela's eyes had already misted over when Master Michael knelt down before her. "Yes, oh yes, Master Michael. I love you," she said, her tears now flowing. Mike, like his brother had done to Ellen, kissed Angela passionately and hugged her to him.

"Master Michael?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied.

"Can we just have a simple, quiet ceremony here at the house?" she asked.

Mike looked over at Sam who smiled and nodded. "I think we can arrange that, Angela. Is there any family that either of you would like to inform?" 

Angela was thoughtful for a moment. "Everyone I know has already disowned me, but I think I should inform them once I'm married.

"Not before?" questioned Mike.

"No. I don't want anyone trying to stop it, Master Michael," said Angela. Mike nodded his head in agreement, understanding the influence of her family.

"I don't have any family," said Ellen, sadly. 

Sam caressed her face and kissed her lightly. "Now you will."

"I'll make a couple of calls." Sam stood up, drawing Ellen to him and kissing her. "Why don't you come with me and I'll find out what kind of paperwork we need to produce for you." He turned to Angela and asked about her birth certificate and she informed him where she had been born. "I might need you for the phone call to get it Faxed to us," he informed her.

"Yes, Master Samuel," said Angela.

"Not just yet," said Master Michael. He looked over at Sam. "The weather is going to start to get colder and I took the liberty of ordering a few outfits for Angela and Ellen. I think with the traffic we are expecting, it would be good to have them dressed."

Ellen looked appalled, "Clothes?"

Mike and Sam started laughing. "Angela, why don't you help Ellen? I've put the outfits in both of your closets."

Angela gave a small laugh and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Master Michael." She took Ellen's hand and they climbed the stairs while the men watched.

Mike and Sam sat down and were waiting for the women to reappear when they heard noise at the top of the stairs. Ellen came down wearing a short pink pastel skirt with a white button down off the shoulder blouse and sandals. Angela came down in a similar outfit except her skirt was pastel blue and she was wearing a low cut top; she had opted for three inch heels. Since neither woman wore a bra, their hard nipples were well defined beneath their blouses.

Both Sam and Mike smiled at the women. "You're beautiful," they both said, almost in unison and then laughed. "Let's all go to my study and work out the details," said Sam. They walked together, each man holding a woman around the waist.

Ellen and Angela were dismissed after the first hour while Mike and Sam kept hammering away at each roadblock they came across. It took hours to work out all the details and get everything finalized. Again, it took Sam's contacts to pull together the wedding for the following day. Mike was impressed with the organizational skills his brother showed in completing the arrangements and told him so.

Sam smiled sheepishly, "Actually, I've been somewhat toying with the idea of a wedding for the last couple of weeks. I'd already called in a favor and they knew a minister who is the lifestyle. Let's go let the girls know that it's tomorrow morning. I'll let Hank know too, since we'll need witnesses."

"Who?" Mike asked. 

"I was thinking just Hank and Jon," said Sam. Mike nodded his head in agreement.

"How are your plans coming for the resort?" Mike asked.

"I'll meet with the developers next month to see their presentation," said Sam. He stood and stretched before walking around the desk to where Mike was. "Let's go tell them." They both left to inform the girls.

Ellen took the news well, but Angela was a bit apprehensive until they told her the minister was a Master. Then she relaxed and was just as happy as Ellen. Both men left for the barracks to inform Hank and Jon of their expected participation. They were to be ready when the helicopter arrived tomorrow.

The wedding day came and went with all four feeling nervous, but the men controlling it better than the women. Each pair exchanged their vows to each other; nothing too complex, just a simple commitment of love for each other as well as Master/sub vows. All the necessary documents were exchanged or copied and then everyone left. Sam shut and locked the door. When he returned to the living room, Mike was already halfway up the stairs with Angela following.

Sam smiled at Ellen as he walked over to her. He kissed her passionately, pressing her close to his body. When he broke off the kiss he smiled at her. "Our room, wife," and he started towards the stairs with Ellen following. Sam was waiting outside the doorway and picked her up, crossing through and kicking the door shut. He lowered her to her feet and kissed her again while his hands carefully unbuttoned her dress.

His kisses and tongue trailed down her neck, eliciting soft moans. Sam slipped the dress off her body, letting it fall to the floor. He bent down and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth. Ellen arched her back and pressed her breast forward towards him. He smiled at her response. Straightening up, he started to remove his clothes. "Why don't you turn the covers down, Ellen?"

Ellen moved to the bed, pulled the covers down and then stood next to it, waiting on her Master/husband. She looked down at the small simple gold ring on her hand and smiled. Sam looked up in time to see her smile and crossed over to where she stood. She looked up when his hard cock came into view. "I love you, Master." 

"Tonight, Ellen, call me Sam. Tonight is our wedding night and I love you. Tonight we are husband and wife, not Master and sub. No games, no orders and no permissions to get. Not tonight." Sam wrapped his arms around Ellen and kissed her passionately, taking her breath away. He picked her up, laid her on the bed and crawled in next to her.

"I love you, Sam," said Ellen as she wrapped her arms around his neck for another kiss.

Sam covered every inch of her body with either his hands or mouth. Ellen couldn't ever remember being loved so much or being happier in her life. There was no rough sex, but just the gentle give and take of pleasuring each other. He even entered her slowly and took his time to bring her to orgasm twice before coming himself. They finally fell asleep cuddled up next to each other, both of them smiling and exhausted.

Sam woke up the next morning still smiling; lying on his side with Ellen spooned up next to him. His cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum. He ran his fingers over her ass, down her crack and into her slit. He smiled when he discovered that she was already wet. When he slowly inserted two fingers into her vagina, she moaned and humped back onto them. He withdrew his fingers and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit while listening to her moans. The next time Ellen humped back, Sam inserted the head of his cock into her hot wet slit.

Ellen's eyes popped open when she felt his cock enter her. She bent herself more to give him better access and was delighted when he pushed the rest of his cock deep into her. Sam wrapped his arm around her and began to tweak and tease her nipples. Holding her nipples firmly, he started to plow into her faster and faster. Ellen was moaning louder and louder with each stroke as her orgasm neared.

Sam's hand caressed down to her clit and started to rub the hard bud roughly. Ellen screamed into her orgasm and stayed there. Sam continued to rub and fuck her faster and faster. By the time Sam finally came, Ellen was twitching, having lost count of how many orgasms she had. He held her tightly to his body kissing the side of her neck and both fell back asleep. The next time they woke, they got up and cleaned up for the day. When they stepped back into the bedroom, Sam stopped her and looked at her.

"Ellen, once we cross back through this door, I am your Master. If you have any questions because of confusion, ask me, Master Michael or Angela. From now on during the day, you are to wear clothes. I will have too many people here that are not familiar with our lifestyle. When you come into our room at night, you will remove your clothes. Once things settle down, then we will resume as we once did, except you are my wife as well as my sub. You no longer have a separate room, but will share my bed and as of yesterday, you will no longer be on birth control." Sam looked at her with adoring eyes. "I love you and want us to have a child together, Ellen."

Ellen had tears of happiness streaming down her face. "Oh, thank you, Sam. I love you too and want to have a baby ... your baby." Sam hugged her to his body and kissed her again.

"Let's go have some breakfast, wife, after you get some clothes on. Go ahead I put them in the closet yesterday. I'll be ordering you some more later. I think shorts, top and sandals will do," Sam said as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Ellen get dressed. When all was set, they left their room and went downstairs. Ellen went to the kitchen while Sam went to the dining room. He was surprised to see Mike already sitting there with Angela kneeling at his feet.

"Angela, go help Ellen with breakfast," Mike said.

"Yes, Master Michael," and she left quickly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Is something wrong Mike?"

Mike stared down at his table setting for a minute. "Angela wants a baby and I don't know if I want to share her yet, even with a baby."

Sam gave a light laugh, "I already took Ellen off birth control. I'm looking forward to having a child and I know she wants one too."

Mike made a silent "oh" and then sighed. "Okay. I guess we'll see which one gets pregnant first." Mike turned a serious face towards Sam. "No whippings or punishment Sam; nothing that could cause a miscarriage or possibly their life. I'll think of alternative punishments."

Just then Angela and Ellen wheeled in a warming cart with breakfast on it. Each fixed a plate and served their Master before setting their own. Mike was halfway through breakfast when he noticed that Angela was just picking at her food. He smiled, "You'll have to eat better than that if you're going to have a baby."

Angela's head snapped up and she smiled, "Thank you, Master Michael," and she started to eat everything on her plate.

"Slow down so you don't choke," cautioned Sam laughing.

"Yes, Master Samuel." She then ate carefully. She and Ellen looked at each other with wide grins.

When breakfast was completed, they decided to take the women outside for a walk within the perimeter to inform them of the development they were planning. Halfway through their walk, they heard shouting near the front gate and saw the dust from a number of vehicles that were heading down the road. They walked quickly to the front to avoid any unpleasantness when they noticed it was at least three different law enforcement agencies.

The fence remained locked and the armed guards on the inside remained alert as the large group of armed officers and plain clothes detectives lined the outside. Sam strolled up to the fence and looked at the man in the rumpled suit. "Yes?" Then Mike stepped up and stood next to his brother.

The man kept looking back and forth between the two men. "FBI, agent Andrews. I have a warrant to arrest Michael Lawson."

"On what charge," asked Mike.

"The kidnapping of Angela Duncan and ...," and then his voice trailed off as he saw Angela.

She stepped up to the fence and looked at the man. "May I?" she turned to Master Michael. He motioned her forward. "Let me get this straight, agent Andrews. You want to arrest my husband for marrying me?"

Agent Andrews looked at her with a dumbfounded expression on his face, "Husband? Your family filed a missing person report on you three months ago and we got a lead that you were a prisoner here so ..."

Angela stood up straight and looked the agent square in the eyes. "My so called family, agent Andrews, disowned me years ago because of the injustice I did to the man that is now my husband. I have no idea about this lead of yours, but it's clearly a lie or the person is delusional. You can save me the bother of telling my family I'm married and happy and to stay the fuck out of my life. They were doing a great job of it for two years and I don't see why they don't continue." She felt Mike's warm arm around her waist. She turned to him and kissed him passionately, deeply and long. She didn't say it, but her eyes told him she loved him very much. They turned back to the agent.

"Ah ... I'll get you taken off the missing person's list Mrs. Lawson. Please accept our apologies for having disturbed you Mr. Lawson. We'll take care of this warrant, the charges against you and take care of the person with the lead." With that, agent Andrews turned to go back to the car. The rest took it as their sign to leave also.

Mike and Sam walked Ellen and Angela back to the house. Once the door was shut, Angela knelt at their feet. "Sorry if I spoke too brashly Masters, but he made me angry."

Mike smiled at Sam and winked. "Stand up, Angela."

Angela stood, but kept her head bowed and eyes downcast.

"You were perfect." Mike grabbed her and kissed her as passionately as she had kissed him outside. She was trying to catch her breath when he finally broke the kiss and placed her hand against the hard cock pressing the inside of his jeans. "Look what you did to me?"

Angela smiled into his eyes. "Master, how may I please you?"

"Get upstairs and wait naked on our bed. I'll be up shortly," and he kissed her again.

"Yes, Master Michael," and she quickly left and climbed the stairs.

Mike felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. "I think we've made it through the worst, Mike. Go on. Ellen and I will be busy down here for a while anyway," and he winked at Mike. Mike left to climb the stairs as Sam went out to the kitchen.

Mike went upstairs and found Angela kneeling in the center of the bed. He smiled as he closed the door and then undressed. He crossed over to the bed, got on and caressed the side of Angela's face.

"Angela," he whispered. Angela looked up into his eyes and smiled at the love that was reflected there.

"Stretch out," said Mike. Angela stretched out on the bed and watched as he stretched along side her body. His mouth pressed hard against hers in a kiss filled with passion and urgency. His mouth roughly sucked, kissed and bit her neck stirring her lust more and building her orgasm.

Mike sucked her nipple hard and pulled it taut with his teeth. Angela arched her back, moaned and spread her legs. "Yes, Mike, some pain," Angela gasped as she raised her hips.

Mike's hand came down and smacked her cunt. "Yes!" Angela screamed and could feel her orgasm beginning. "Now, please Mike, I'm almost there!"

Mike rolled between her legs and rammed his cock in balls deep. He started to pound hard and fast in and out of her hot wet hole. Angela finally crested, her body trembling through her orgasm and back down when Mike shot his load of hot cum deep inside her. He remained on top feeling his cock soften within its warm nesting place. He rolled, when it finally slipped out, and lay holding Angela next to him. She cuddled her head on his chest.

Mike's hand kept stroking her hair and shoulders. Angela smiled and then lifted up to kiss him. "I love you, Mike." He smiled at her and kissed her.

"Mike, what type of resort is Master Samuel building?" she asked.

"A very private one designed for our lifestyle," he replied. She thought this over for a minute and a frown crossed her face. "What have you thought of?" asked Mike.




Betrayed Ch. 06



Angela looked seriously at Mike. "How will you know they are really in the lifestyle? I mean, what if some government agency wanted to investigate by sending pretenders? I was thinking some kind of security check might want to be done." 

Mike sat up and smiled at her. "We'll tell Master Samuel tomorrow." He laughed at the expression on her face. "I'm sure he's just as busy with Ellen as I am with you right now."

Angela blushed and smiled, "Yes, I guess he is."

Mike hugged her and cuddled back down on the bed. "We'll get busy again once I get some rest. After all, didn't get much sleep last night, now did I?" They both laughed and cuddled for a nap.



Betrayed Ch. 06



The rest of the morning went quickly. I was following CNN closely. The OPEC ministers were meeting in Vienna. I was anticipating them making a move on oil production. I wasn't sure which way it would go, but I had committed the company to a hedge position in a dangerous way. There had been rumors circulating since the previous Thursday of a major new offensive by U.S. forces in the Sunni Triangle When I heard that, my instincts had gone into overdrive. I called our people on the floor of the Merc and issued a buy order for all the Number Two Arabian Crude contracts they could get their hands on. My job and reputation rested on the accuracy of my instincts.

At eleven o'clock Monday morning, there was word an errant U.S. air strike had partially demolished the Imam Ali Shrine in Najaf – the holiest Shi'ite site in Iraq. Within the hour, there was word out of Vienna; OPEC would be reducing worldwide production by a combined three million barrels a day. The price of Arabian Crude futures took off for Mars – and we were in the driver's seat! By one o'clock, my instincts had netted the firm and its clients one hundred twenty-five million dollars and the amount was still rising. All in a day's work. I made a note that it might be a good idea to invest part of my commission in a hybrid car - and gave a little chuckle for all those SUV owners who would soon be taking the CTA or Metrato work.

Angie stuck her head in the door.

"Ready?" she inquired.

"For...?" I questioned, puzzled.

"Lunch!" she gushed. I've been following your latest exploits; we all have. The word is, Rob Nelson and Jim Grant are about to nominate you for Sainthood. I'm taking you to lunch before they usurp my prerogative. I may not get another chance before you leave to start your own firm."

This was news. My commission on this trade would be enough to put me over the top in my quest to obtain my own trading seat on the Merc. Getting a seat was very much like joining a country club; you had to be 'sponsored' by existing members. If Rob and Jim were willing to give me their endorsement.... Robert Nelson was our Chairman and Chief Executive Officer. James Grant was President and Chief Operating Officer. They had started from much the same position I was in now – working for someone else, then acquiring their own seats. The long hours of empire-building had taken its toll on both their personal lives. Jim was divorced. Rob had never married. The company was their wife, Mistress, and taskmaster. They had reached the pinnacle of success, yet remained salarymen to the core.

"Not to worry," I chirped brightly, "if I leave, I will drag you out the door with me – kicking and screaming, if I have to."

The comely Latina approached me, smiling coyly. She stood before me, bent over at the waist, placing her face right in front of mine. She gazed into my eyes, softly stroking my cheek with one hand

"I like kicking and screaming," she cooed, "but you won't have to drag me anywhere – unless you are into that sort of thing."

She pulled me from my chair and slipped her arm through mine. In her heels, she was actually taller than me.

"Are you sure you can afford this?" I asked.

"Absolutely!" she breezed. "The sky's the limit – whatever your expense account allows."

"Gee, thanks." I responded dryly.

"Shut up and call a cab," she growled with mock menace.

As Yogi Berra said, it seemed like Déjà vu all over again. Angie suggested we try Morton's new downtown location on Wacker Drive. The 'in' joke was, the "T" in the neon marquee was already burnt out. At night, everyone in the Loop was having a good laugh at the illuminated result. My companion raised one eyebrow inquiringly when I seconded her order for a Cobb salad.

"I've been eating," I reiterated. "I just haven't been eating right. I need more roughage in my diet."

"Roughage, huh?" Angie smirked. I'll make a note of that."

With only a modest amount of 'persuasion' by the lovely Latina, I ordered a celebratory bottle of champagne; nothing ostentatious, just a nice Mőet Brut. If Angie was concerned I ate less salad than she did, she didn't comment. We left nothing of the bubbly to waste – and were more than a little wasted ourselves. I remarked I was going to be a wreck when I got back to my desk.

"Not to worry," Angie reassured me. "I left word upstairs with Sheila you would be 'indisposed' the rest of the afternoon. Debbie is subbing for me. No one is gonna give us flack after this morning. We earned it."

"What you mean 'we', Paleface?" I mocked.

"I mean," she continued, "you did the deal and I, as Morale and Recreation Officer, have kept your head screwed on straight and your mind in the game for the past week."

"Oh, you did, did you?" I scolded. "Well, thank you very much for your dedication. And just how did you save me from myself?"

Angie just smiled coyly, and inhaled – deeply. Her chest expanded amazingly, like two big, round jiggly balloons that seemingly would burst at any moment, yet just kept expanding. I stared in rapt, silent fascination.

"Like that," she responded quietly.

Under the table, her hand was in my lap, stroking the hard-on that had popped above the waistband of my satin panties. I was scared to death she was about to discover the corset, garters, stocking tops, or all three.

"That IS a... lovely... suit," I stumbled absent-mindedly. "You wear it... all your outfits... so... well."

"You really think so?" she murmured. "Thank you, Sweetie! You don't mind if I call you that here, just the two of us, do you? I mean, you are such an attractive man.... No, that's not right. You are so young-looking, slender, smooth, fine-featured – like a really pretty boy..."

Her hand snaked its way from my crotch to my abdomen before I could do anything to stop her. Her smile lit up the room.

"...who likes to dress up like a really pretty girl. Now, what were we saying about 'drag' a little while ago? Pretty girls like you always have a pretty name. What's yours?"

I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me right then. I closed my eyes.

"Lisa," I whispered.

"Lisa!" she exclaimed. "That is so you. I am very pleased to meet you, Lisa. I get along well with the other girls at work, but they are all so... white bread – know what I mean? You, on the other hand, are my kind of girlfriend. I can already tell you are hip, daring, not afraid to flaunt what you've got, and know what to do with it when the time comes. I'll bet it kills you to have to dress like this for work, doesn't it? What you really want is to cut loose and dress the way you really feel, don't you? With those blue eyes and that fair complexion, I'm guessing you are a really fabulous blonde – aren't you?"

I nodded silently. How could she possibly know all of that? Thank goodness the lunch rush was largely over. If anyone had been sitting at a surrounding table....

"Angie, I'm seeing someone," I murmured.

Her eyes sparkled like black diamonds.

"That's right, Sweetie; you are seeing me – and I couldn't possibly be more thrilled!This is way cool, mija. I just have to get the full effect. Check, please!"



Betrayed Ch. 07



Chapter Seven: The Eighth Level?

Angie kept my arm locked in hers, preventing any attempt at escape. We caught a cab back to my place. She was even more appreciative of it than Dianna had been.

"Girlfriend, you live like a queen!" she exuded.

Realizing what she had just said, she giggled.

"Oops! Well, you know what I mean."

She made a beeline for the master bedroom. Her practiced eye did not miss the jewelry armoire or vanity. She nodded her approval, checking my dresser drawers, one by one, noting the lingerie and Dianna's corset. She moved on to the vanity, nodding her head and smiling at the MAC products, then stepped to the armoire. Her eyes bugged out when she saw the diamond-and-ruby pieces.

"I'm not even gonna ask," she exclaimed slowly.

I knew what she was implying and nodded my head. She exhaled loudly, then moved on to the closet. She stood silently, taking in the suede suit, the red sequined gown – and the coat. She shut the door silently, then turned to face me.

"Well," she observed, "it's not as extensive as I would have guessed, but Jesus...."

Her last word came out almost in a whisper.

"I'm kinda new to this," I admitted. "That's why my wardrobe is so limited."

"Define 'new'," she interrogated.

"Uh, this past weekend?"

"Two days?" she questioned. "Wow, you're just a cherry at this."

"Um, not...exactly..." I corrected.

Her eyes bulged. Then she smiled a Cheshire smile.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" she smirked. "I was right about you, Lisa. You do know how to use it when the time comes. We are going to become very, very close friends..."

"But, Angie, I can't..."

"...and no one in the office will ever have to know our secret – if I don't want them to. Now, Lisa, I want you to get dressed for me. As much as I might want to see you in that red sequined number, I think the suede will be fine for now."

I stripped off my male attire, swapped the pink panties for the freshly-washed lavender bra and panty set, then slipped my boobs into my bra. Angie re-tightened the corset's laces, cinching them down as far as they would go - crushing the breath from me. She also directed me to swap out my suntan stockings for a jet-black pair. 

I professed my relative lack of skill at applying makeup. My captor insisted on doing my 'look' for me, right down to re-applying my eyelashes and fingernails. During the course of our makeup session, she was delighted to discover my prosthetic male eyebrows, peeling them away in a flash, then penciling in the dramatic high, thin arches I had affected all weekend. Angie was doubly delighted to discover my camouflaged ear piercings. She pursed her lips and shook her head expressively.

"You are just full of surprises, Lisa," she intoned mirthfully. "It really must kill you to have to hide all this just to come to work. Just looking at how beautiful you can be, and knowing how drab you have to be to get by in your stifling male persona is killing me."

When her task was complete, my face did not present the full-blown drag/stage look my girlfriends had given me Saturday night. Still, it reflected a dramatic/exotic Latina flair, right down to the dark claret outline of my lips with the more vibrant red filler, all covered with a coat of shimmering gloss. I could not detect a shred of difference in the look and feel of my glamour-length crimson talons from what they had been all weekend. Under Angie's direction, I re-applied my jewelry, then spritzed myself with perfume.

"Looking good, Girlfriend," she assured me. "Now, let's see it with the hair. Wait a sec; let me work with it first."

When Dianna and I had decided to keep the wig, we had picked up a professional wig block, styling brush and pick and, of course, hairspray ("A showgirl's best friend, Sweetheart," Dianna had claimed). Angie now attacked my shimmering mane with the latter three. In less time than I thought possible, she had 'pumped up the volume' – literally as well as figuratively – to compliment the dramatic flair of my makeup.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," she crowed, then paused and winked. "I'm also a secretary. Now, let's get this puppy on you, Sweetie. I can't wait to see."

The elastic mesh cap went over my head first, holding my own longish locks in place. Angie carefully positioned the wig as Mimi had done, cinching the elastic Velcro tabs in back. I then did a credible job mimicking my friends' efforts to anchor my new mane to my own hair with bobby pins. Angelina's smiling face was next to mine, meeting my gaze in the vanity mirror.

"Oh, yeah," she murmured. "Now put on the shoes. I want to see The Strut."

My heart was pounding, but no longer from apprehension. I was into it now. I slipped my feet into the mules. The skyscraper stilettos arched my legs, thrust out my boobs and tush, and made me feel invincible. I conjured up a mental image of Dianna flowing across a room in that effortless way she did. Then, I willed my body to emulate her.

"Oh... YEAH!" the lovely Latina extolled. "Girrrl, that is pure poetry in motion. Two days, my ass! You were born for this. I'm gonna have to work hard just to keep up."

The excitement – and champagne – had caught up with me.

"Angie," I pleaded, "I hate to break up this mutual aberration society, but I really have to pee."

She laughed, nodded, then sat down at my vanity.

"You go ahead, Sweetie," she encouraged. "I'm gonna take advantage of this fabulous collection of cosmetics and touch up my face."

While I was doing my business, I sorted out the tangle of emotions from the afternoon. Once I had gotten over the initial shock of discovery and Angie's blackmail, the whole thing had been an incredible turn-on. I could not deny I had always been attracted to my beautiful secretary; now, more than ever. She had given every indication she felt the same way. Where was she going with this? My instincts told me we were this was going to be more than a casual get-together. 

Was this being unfaithful to Dianna? No; she had told me there would be times she would not be able to tell me in advance about having sex with a man. She would share it with me later, when she saw me again. I could do the same now, and everything would be all right. Would Dianna be as jealous of me having sex with a GG as she had been about my 'date' with Daniel? Would Angie want to penetrate me as Dianna did – in this case, using a dildo? I wanted to be prepared....

The bathroom was fully-equipped; whirlpool tub, separate shower stall, double sink. toilet – and bidet. When I had toured the place, I thought it was a quaint appendage that would sit forlornly in the corner, forever unused. Now.... The sensation of being thoroughly cleansed by the powerful jet of water was stimulating and unnerving at the same time. My insides tingled from the experience, not to mention the anticipation of what was to come. During my stay in the bathroom, I swore I heard my companion's voice, talking to... someone.

In my absence, Angie's 'touch-up' had rendered her face and hair as dramatic as my own. She beamed at me as I emerged from the bathroom and held out her hand to me.

"Ready?" she asked.

Déjà vu.

"For...?" I reiterated.

"A celebration!" Angie gushed. "The cab will be here in a few minutes. There is no way two zorras like us are gonna sit at home, looking like this. I want all of Chicago to see us tonight. I have never felt so alive!"

I had to admit; I felt the same way. I gathered up my suede clutch, added cash, my Driver's License (embarrassing if I had to show it, but at least it was legal), perfume, compact, and another tube of K-Y. Angie noted the lubricant, as well as the condoms already in the purse, and beamed.

"Planning on getting lucky tonight, Girlfriend?" she cooed.

"The thought crossed my mind," I admitted coyly.

Angie winked.

"You just might be right," she ventured. "I'm really turned on right now and you are so hot! This keeps getting better and better."

The cab ride was short, depositing us in front of Ruth's Chris Steak House on Dearborn. Well, okay; the bar is kinda nice and I might be hungry enough for a small filet later, but.... Angie wrapped my arm in hers and hurried us inside to escape the evening chill. We made our way into the bar. I was musing to myself how long it had been since I had a really good frozen strawberry margarita. My first had been with Susan, at Fat Tuesday's in Key West. You remember those historic firsts in your life: your first kiss, your first date, your first love... your first full-blown coronary seizure. There, seated at the bar, were Rob Nelson and Jim Grant!

"If we turn around right now," I murmured to my companion, "and leave the way we came, they might not notice us."

Angie pouted.

"What fun would that be?"

"But you said no one from the office had to know!" I cried.

"If I didn't want them to," she corrected. "Be nice and you will be fine. I was asked out for a special occasion tonight – and I'm not about to say 'no' to our bosses. They asked me to bring a friend for a foursome. I can't think of any girlfriend I would rather have by my side tonight – or one more perfect. Let's go, Mija!"

She tightened her grip on my arm and pulled me forward.

"Angie!" Rob beamed. "You made it in record time. Was traffic that light?"

My girlfriend shook her head, beaming her most radiant smile.

"Nothing to it," she chirped. "We were just over by North Pier. We actually waited longer for the cab to arrive than it took to get here. Rob, Jim, may I introduce my girlfriend, Lisa...."

It suddenly occurred to us both she had never asked my femme last name.

"...L-Layne," I stammered, lucky to find voice at all. "P-pleased to meet you both."

I extended a trembling hand in their direction. Both men were off their stools in a flash. Jim shook my hand with a gentle touch – as a man would shake a woman's hand. Rob turned my hand over and kissed the back of it. He stood transfixed, staring into my eyes as though turned to stone. Jim just grinned at his partner's distress. At last, Rob shook his head as if clearing it.

"I'm sorry," he intoned, embarrassed. "Where are my manners? It was rude of me to st.... I mean, I couldn't help mys.... Damn, Angelina, you were right. She is absolutely captivating.

Okay, that helped a little. I was still shaking like a leaf in a Force Five Nor'easter.

"You poor girl!" Rob stated compassionately. "Why don't you women ever wear coats? You look great, but even if you take a warm cab, you can catch your death of cold getting into or out of it."

"When some nice Sugar Daddy buys me a fur," Angie hinted, "I'll even wear it in July."

"Consider it done, Baby Doll," Jim breezed. "Call it a 'perk' of your new position."

"Angie is getting a... promotion?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Rob replied with a grin, "for services rendered. Didn't she tell you? We will announce it officially to the whole company tomorrow. She is coming upstairs to become an Executive Personal Assistant. That's part of the reason for our celebration tonight."

"Um, congratulations," I offered lamely.

"Thank you, Sweetie," she responded sprightly. "I couldn't have done it without you."

I wished she would stop dropping hints like that. So far, they didn't seem to realize who I was. As long as they didn't, I might still have a job the next morning. I gathered up all my courage.

"Well," I observed, "if this is a celebration, perhaps we should have a drink. Would it be too much trouble to order me a frozen strawberry margarita? Make it the big one; I need it."

Ten minutes later, I was already half-way through the frosty, forty-eight ounce concoction. It went down so easily! After all, it was just a big Slurpee – with about a gallon of Cuervo. The others were sipping leisurely at their cocktails. There had been not a single untoward comment or reference, regarding me. The two executives, particularly Rob, were actually warming to me as they would to any attractive woman. Fortified with liquid courage, I was beginning to respond in kind.

"So, uh, Mr. Nelson," I began.

"Lisa, please call me Rob," he interrupted. "This isn't office hours and 'Mr. Nelson' is way too formal for the occasion – and present company."

"Okay...Rob," I corrected myself. "I just wanted to express my personal pleasure in your choice of promoting my friend Angie. I know she deserves it and she will be a valuable asset to you and Mr... uh, Jim."

"Thank you, Lisa," Bob responded. "Angie's promotion is richly deserved. The men in the Major Trades Group give her rave reviews, particularly Lance Layton. Perhaps Angie has mentioned him to you? She thinks the world of him."

I stiffened – hopefully imperceptibly – at the mention of my alter ego, nodding my assent.

"Lance is the real reason we are celebrating tonight," Rob continued. "He really put us on the map today. He's the best of the best, and loyal to the core. Did you know he threatened to quit, and take his whole group with him, because some blue nose in Employee Relations got a bug up her ass about Angie's sartorial splendor? He was willing to piss away a six-figure income, plus stock options, for his secretary's honor. I wish all my people had that level of personal integrity. Jim and I have been wracking our brains all afternoon, trying to decide on a suitable reward. Angelina has even offered a suggestion or two, haven't you Angie?"

She smiled from behind pursed lips and nodded. Her eyes twinkled.

"From what I hear," Rob went on, "Angie is lucky to have a good friend like you. Your unselfish support of her career advancement is just one more indication of that. The truth is, she won't be working for us."

"She... won't?" I asked haltingly. "Then who will she be working for?"

"Our Executive Vice-President," Jim answered.

"Really?" I questioned with genuine confusion. "Angie never mentioned you had one. Who is it?"

The two men looked at each other – and grinned.

"Why, you of course," Bob stated matter-of-factly. "Dear Lady, after your performance this morning, you could write your own ticket anywhere on LaSalle Street. I'll do anything I have to do to keep you."

He gazed at me with a whole lot more than professional interest.

"Anything. Anyone who can make us one hundred fifty-seven million dollars and change in the morning, then show up that same evening, looking like a supermodel for her date with me, deserves her chair in the Executive Suite."

My internal clock may have been a little off, due to the effects of stress and alcohol. As nearly as I can figure it, about one-point-five seconds elapsed between the time Rob uttered those words and I sensed the first taste of bile in my throat. Strawberry-flavored bile is not cute.

"'Scuse me," I barked, even as I was bolting for the bathroom door.

As I dashed away, I thought I heard Rob inquire: "Was it something I said?"

The First Commandment states: "Thou shalt worship no god before Me." 

Fine; I won't burn in Hell as long as God is a porcelain throne. 

***

I heard her voice directly behind me as I knelt.

"Sweetie? Are you all right?"

"Never better," I gasped. "Purging is 'in' these days. With the right spin, I may make the cover of next week's People."

I felt her right arm wrap gently around my tummy as I coughed. Her left hand held my forehead. No one had performed that simple, loving act for me since my mother. I adored Angie at that moment – even as I despised every fiber of her being. 

"What did I ever do," I wheezed, fighting for breath, "to make you hate me so much?"

"Huh?"

My stomach finally decided it had done enough somersaults. My breathing returned to normal. I got to my feet, turned around, lowered the seat, and collapsed on it.

"You set me up," I cried. "You outed me – to our employers! I'm done in this town. I'll be lucky if I can get a job trading baseball cards in Buffalo. Why, Angie? Why?"

She just stared at me as though I had sprouted a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed indignantly. "Did I set you up? Of course! How else could I have gotten you here under these circumstances? As for the rest, were we sitting at the same table a moment ago? I could have sworn I heard Rob Nelson offer you a Vice-Presidency. How, exactly, does that classify you as 'done in this town'?"

"By this time tomorrow, everyone in the company will be convinced I'm some kind of freak!"

The raven-haired Latina continued to stare. The corners of her mouth twitched a bit, then curled upwards.

"Oh," she stated matter-of-factly. "Is that all?"

Angie reached down, hiked my skirt up around my hips, then slipped off my panties. My damn clitty, not understanding how indignant I was about what my companion had done to me, sprang to full, painful attention. My companion then unzipped and wriggled out of her own tight skirt – she wasn't wearing panties - straddled my thighs, then slowly sank onto my lap, impaling herself on my rigid rod. Her eyes momentarily glazed over. She trembled and gasped a sigh of contentment as I filled her drenched pussy.

"Mija," she intoned, "you need a reality check. You are a freak. Your instincts have consistently made our company profitable and you a valuable asset, when the other traders guess wrong as much as they guess right. That makes you a freak. Today, your instincts caught the commodities market flat-footed, made this company a ton of money, and likely positioned it as the premiere commodities brokerage in this city, if not the country. That makes you a freak. In spite of it all, you are the most intelligent, kind, loyal, funny, down-to-earth man I have ever met, working in a world of arrogant alpha assholes. That makes you a freak. If that isn't enough, you are also the most drop-dead gorgeously-feminine man in this whole damn city. It goes without saying how freaky that is.

"I could have any man in this city. Do you doubt that? Don't! All I have to do is wiggle my cute, curvaceous ass, and he would be all mine! I know how the game is played and I don't mind fucking my way to the top. I've already had Jim Grant - often. I don't love him, but he's a great lay, and it doesn't hurt to get in good with the guys who can make your career. I'm gonna have him again tonight, too – and you are gonna have Rob Nelson. 

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, which Jim revealed to me over 'pillow talk'. The reason Rob never got married has nothing to do with the long hours he puts in on the job. He is gay - and has an industrial-strength Jones for beautiful T-girls. When I saw you like this, I couldn't wait to put you two together. Did I 'set you up'? You bet your sweet ass I did – and for good reason! Now, you may have 'missed the memo' a few minutes ago, but he was hard as a rock the moment he saw you. He wants you so bad, I can taste it. You heard him; he will do 'anything' to keep you. What he really meant was, he will do anything to have you.

"Do you deserve this Vice-Presidency on your own merits? Of course you do! Is that enough – in our world? Sweetie, we are not gonna leave anything to chance. Here is what you and I are going to do. We are going to pull ourselves together, fix our faces, fluff up our hair, then go out and make nice with our dates. We are going to enjoy our dinner, laugh at their jokes, flirt with them, then let human nature and hormones do the rest.




Betrayed Ch. 07



"Tomorrow, we are going to pack your things, move you upstairs, get you settled into your new life as an Executive Vice-President – and I am gonna be right by your side, just as I have been every business day for the last two years. I know how hard you have fought for me in that time. Don't even dream I won't fight just as hard for you now."

I just shook my head in bewilderment.

"I guess I can chase away the butterflies in my stomach," I began tentatively. "I may even be able to screw together enough courage to go back out there. I suppose I should count my blessings; I didn't stain my suit or blouse. Hell, if you pump enough alcohol into me..."

I stared at the bowl between my thighs.

"...excuse me; back into me, I might even be able to enjoy myself. But where, oh where am I gonna find the courage tomorrow to put on a suit and tie, ride up to the top floor, shake Rob and Jim's hands and sit behind my new desk, as though tonight never happened?"

It was Angie's turn to shake her head, incredulously.

"You really weren't paying attention out there, were you?" she scolded. "The man said, anyone who could do the things you have done today deserves her seat in the Executive Suite. 'Lance' wasn't invited to The Show; you were. You are a star, Baby Doll, and I have hitched my star to yours. Together, we are going to ride this right to the top."

"Angie," I inquired seriously, giving myself the once-over, "I really need to know. Doesn't all this bother you? I mean me, this way. Wouldn't you rather work for someone more... I dunno, manly? Do you really want to come with me?

She stared at me without expression for a moment, then glanced down to where my 'clit' was buried to the hilt inside her pussy. It was really wet down there. She gazed into my eyes, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. She leaned forward and kissed me deeply.

"Do I want to come with you?" she cooed. "I guess you missed that memo, too. Twice. We'll have to do something about your breath, though. I've got a pack of those little mouthwash-thingies in my purse."

***

We pulled it together (did we ever!) and slinked saucily, arm in arm, out to meet our dates. I hoped my smile was somewhere near as dazzling as my girlfriend's. I exuded bravado I didn't feel. This time, I got it right. We drank cocktails with appetizers and champagne with dinner. I got it right with Rob, too. I sat on the inside of our circular booth, next to Angie. Rob was on my outside; Jim on hers. 

The conversation – and confidence – flowed more naturally as my blood-alcohol level increased. I was snuggled up to Rob just as tightly as Angie was to Jim. After dinner, my arm was linked through his. I touched the back of his hand lightly with my free hand to make a point during conversation. Angie and I did laugh at their jokes – which were surprisingly good and well-told for two guys from the Executive Suite. Who'd a thunk it?

We walked out of the restaurant with my arm still through Rob's. My head rested lightly on his shoulder. Was I surprised when he kissed me? Not really. Was I surprised I sucked his tongue into my mouth like a vacuum cleaner and held it there? Well, uh... yeah. What scared me most was, I liked it. Did I think of Dianna? Immediately! I knew what was about to happen; at that point, it was inevitable. I knew it was the one thing she still felt uneasy about in our relationship. I knew all the noble things I should be doing at this moment. I should politely thank Rob and Jim for a lovely evening, call a cab and go home (I wasn't sure how hard a time I, Lisa, would have retrieving the Benz from the secured garage at work, even at this time of night). I should call Dianna, go to her, find her wherever she was and tell her I loved her truly, madly, deeply. I also knew none of that would happen beforehand. Angie and I were going home with our two escorts, 'to let human nature and hormones take their course.' I could have told myself I was doing it for my promotion or even doing it for Angie's. If I repeated it often enough, I might even begin to believe it myself.

Rob's condo in the John Hancock Building had a magnificent view of the lake to the East and Lake Shore Drive to the North, with the Drake Hotel in the foreground and Oak Street Beach just beyond. Rob had me up against a wall with his hand under my skirt almost as soon as the four of us were in the door. I guess he just had to check out my bona fides. He seemed to like my 'bona' just fine; his lurched hard inside his pants. Playing the ever-so-accommodating 'date', I unbuckled and unzipped his pants, then sank slowly to my haunches, sliding his pants and boxers down as I went, allowing his tortured tube its freedom. God, did it ever spring at the chance!

Rob was not huge; certainly not like Daniel. But he was nice and thick and meaty and stood straight at attention in my face, which was not only a huge turn-on but an incredibly rewarding compliment. I kissed him right on the tip to show my appreciation. He lurched again. I gazed upward into his eyes – and saw The Look. I hadn't seen it all that often. Once upon a time, it had been in Susan's eyes. Lately, I had seen it in Dianna's. If you have ever seen it, you know how it makes those butterflies in your tummy start a'fluttering and makes you do goofy things; sometimes consciously, and sometimes on auto-pilot....

I sank forward on my knees and rested my hands lightly on Rob's thighs. I had one serious lollypop staring me eye-to-eye. The tip of my tongue traced a delicate path along the underside, from the sac all the way to the tip. A series of little flicks around the head caused the whole of it to jump numerous times. I traced back along my original route, laving his balls upon arrival. I sucked each one in turn while lightly massaging his firm buttcheeks with my long nails. I turned my head and traced back towards the tip with my tongue along the upper crest, gently lapping off to each side, first one, then the other, returning to my point of origin.

My second kiss lingered a moment, with my lips ever-so-slightly parted. My tongue flicked the tip yet again, spreading the pre-cum which, by this time, was flowing substantially. I parted my lips a bit more, taking the head only into my mouth, giving it a more playful tongue-bath, round and round, first one direction, then the other. One hand lightly grasped his shaft; the other, his balls. I gently stroked the first, while massaging the second, ever-so-deftly scraping the sensitive skin with the tips of my nails.

I took more of him into my mouth, stroking him faster at the same time. I could feel him tremble, feel his hands on my head, holding me, easing me forward, urging me to take still more of him into my mouth, deeper, deeper. I released his balls and reached around once more, massaging his buns. I traced the length of his crack with my middle finger oh-so-slowly, from the ilial crest to his scrotum, then back to massage his little puckered hole. He jumped when I hit it with the tip of my nail. 

By this time, I was inhaling his raging member up to my hand. I removed my hand, placed it on his other butt cheek, and inhaled him even deeper, until my nose brushed his pubic hair. His pre-cum was flowing continuously now. I sucked my middle finger into my mouth next to his cock, getting it nice and slick with saliva and Rob's natural lube. I found his love button again and, with excruciating care, slipped my finger into it, making certain I did not damage the delicate tissues with my fingernail. He went off like a bomb, blasting hot jism into the back of my mouth and down my throat. Knowing how sensitive a man is after coming, I resumed my light tongue-flicking on his frenulum, holding his butt cheeks firmly to prevent his escape. I honestly thought the sensations would drive him mad – but his erection did not go down a centimeter. 

Shouts and shrieks from the direction of the bedroom told me the action was going hot and heavy in there. That was okay; I was up to my tonsils – and then some – in action right here. It might have been minutes, tens of minutes, an hour. I lost all concept of time and space. My entire universe was the cock in my mouth and I was going to explore every last one of its mysteries.

My universe picked me up and carried me bodily to the sofa, draping me over the upholstered arm such that my back rested on the overstuffed cushions and my hips were raised. Bless his heart, he accepted my offered K-Y. He thrust into me so easily, as though I had been accepting cock in my pussy all my life, instead of eleven days. I wrapped my legs around his thighs and matched his thrusts with my own, closing my eyes, arching my back, and focusing my entire will on simply being.

Something brushed against my hand. I opened my eyes, to be greeted by yet another hunk of angry man-meat. I reasoned that, in the heat of passion, slippery concepts such as 'gay' and 'straight' had less meaning than slippery lips or a drenched pussies. I had not reached the point of doing multi-million-dollar trades on the commodities market by being slow to recognize obvious cues. I opened my mouth and accepted Jim Grant up to the hilt.

I was being pummeled at both ends – and not-so-quietly going out of my mind. My own shrieks were muffled by the bulging 'cock gag' filling my mouth. My love nest was stretched and on fire from Rob's thunderous assault. My own clitty had found a gap between my panties and skirt hem and exploited it, standing tall. My attention snapped back from my mouth and love nest to the gently touch of a hand on my cheek. Angie's face hovered just over my head, upside-down, as she leaned over the near end of the sofa. Her smile, like her name, was angelic.

"Is that enough 'roughage' for you, Baby Doll?" she cooed, "or would you like it rougher? You're close to popping, aren't you? And it's such a bitch to get cum stains out of suede...."

Her head disappeared. Moments later, I felt my skirt raised even higher, up to my waist, then soft suctioning on my clitty as slick lips and a wet mouth descended its length. I had no idea how long it lasted, nor where my endurance came from. The cocks at either end of me thundered their release in quick succession. I milked every drop from them with mouth and rectal muscles. When they were at last spent and limp, I focused my attention on the last remaining member of our 'party'.

There is something to be said about telepathy. Perhaps it was just the recognition in the glance of one pair of perceptive eyes to another. Strong hands had the gorgeous Latina impaled on my clit before she knew she had left her perch on the floor next to the sofa. She was open and drenched, but neither so much to deny her pleasure from my aching member. Take pleasure, she did; openly, vocally, enough to raise the dead. Then too, the lips teasing her nipples and the mouth sucking her tongue out of her head had much to do with her passion. When she came, she convulsed violently, spasmodically. I couldn't see her eyes; rather, I sensed from the feel of her they rolled up into her head. But for the mouth covering hers, they would have heard her in the next ZIP code.

I thanked them – for everything – and bid them a sweet slumber. They begged me to stay, but I demurred, claiming I would have a busy day coming. They mandated it start late, in view of my efforts 'above and beyond the call', and that I contact Angie before I do anything else. She took me aside and kissed me so deeply, I thought she would suck my head inside-out.

"Will you be all right?" she asked, with a voice tinged with concern.

I tilted my head sideways and gave her a screwball look.

"Depending on your definition," I replied, "I may never be 'all right' again. I think I will recover. From there, I guess we'll just have to take it one day at a time, won't we?"

She kissed me again. Her smile banished the night's shadows.

"Good answer, Lover," she trilled. "In case I haven't told you in the last ten minutes, you are magnificent. Call me?"

I had to laugh.

"No," I intoned solemnly, "after this, I'm afraid I'll just have to walk away from it all and take up the solitary life of a long-haul trucker."

I trapped her fist before it impacted my shoulder and kissed it.

"Yes, I will call you," I continued. "I have to. If I don't, how will I get the job done?"

"Damn right, Missy!" she exclaimed.

That reminded me of something really important that needed doing.

Getting a cab at that time of night was partly luck, but mostly a matter of where you were calling from. No cabbie gave a second thought about picking someone up at the entrance of Big John. My driver was a little less enthusiastic about the destination in Lakeview, but Ulysses Grant was always a strong persuader. If I looked to him like a hooker headed home from a hot 'date' – well, that wasn't completely inaccurate, was it? It never occurred to me not to tell Dianna everything, whatever the fallout. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes that had been made at my expense. The flashback to Jeff Goldblum and The Lost World was almost automatic:

"No, this time you're making all new mistakes."

As the cab rounded the corner, I spied a tall figure walking down the steps of Dianna's building and heading in the opposite direction. There was something about the fluid motion of his body that tugged at my memory. I dismissed it, paid the driver and hurried up the stairs. Fortune was with me. Dianna's building was older. The closer on the front door was hydraulic, not pneumatic. In the February cold, the fluid inside must have had the consistency of axel grease. I caught the door before it latched. Hooray! I wouldn't have to ring. I hurried up the stairs and tapped at her door. She opened it, crying. Her tears turned immediately to a look of genuine horror, as though she had seen a ghost. From the disarray of her bed and nightgown, I surmised the departing figure had not been a coincidence. Well, I hadn't been pure as the driven, either. Still, the thought he had hurt her hurt me – and made me angry. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot by demanding details which were none of my business.

"Y-you should have called first," she sniffed.

"I should have called hours ago," I professed, pushing her down on the bed and kissing her deeply. "Now, I'll have to make it up to you the best way I know how. This time, it's my turn to talk."

Did I say it was getting deep before? Call Streets and Sanitation; this time, I'm gonna need a plow... 



Betrayed Ch. 08



Chapter Eight: The Noose Tightens

Did I happen to mention everything was moving so fast? People weren't really surprised Lance Layton took his commission and ran for the door as fast as he could. There wasn't an employee in the firm who didn't wish they could produce the same results for themselves. The rumors ran rampant: he had purchased his own seat and started his own firm; he was trading through the Internet from his new home in Aruba; his marital problems had so devastated him, he had quit the business entirely and now ran a charter boat in Key West (my personal favorite); he had secretly been Michael Jackson all along, hiding out from the glare of publicity while attempting to re-build his fortune.

Nor were they really surprised Rob and Jim had 'gone outside' to acquire their new Executive Vice-President. Lisa Layne had come highly recommended. She and Lance had been classmates and friendly competitors in the Finance curriculum at their university, so the gossip went. They had both gone into futures trading and, according to the departed Mr. Layton, she had done quite well herself. When he decided to leave the firm, he had floated her name as his best possible replacement. The two senior executives had planned to make him their choice for V.P., but valued his judgment and had tendered her an offer, which she had accepted. Angie had been proud to come up with, then disseminate, that plum piece of disinformation. One very real aspect of this move was: Major Trades was being re-vamped into the "Strategic Trading Group", and its direction would be the new Vice-President's - my - primary focus. 

Another rumor spread immediately, and unbidden; the new Veep was "a real looker". That rumor probably began in the Transportation Department. I hadn't known we even had a 'Transportation Department'. Most likely, it was just three or four guys from Maintenance who had been Shanghai-ed into going down to the garage, loading Lisa Layne's recently-arrived personal effects onto carts, then bringing them up the service elevator to the top floor and delivering them to her new office. She and her Personal Assistant had been there to supervise the unloading. The guys already knew Angie. They had been suitably (no pun intended) impressed with Ms. Layton herself. Add the glowing welcoming memo circulated from the Offices of the Chairman and President, and everyone accepted the new 'suit' without a second thought – but not without a second look. 

That was Wednesday morning. To preserve the fiction of the 'outside hire' and thus protect my identity, Angie and I had boxed up all my stuff from my office Tuesday night, then taken it down to the garage on those same carts. Employee Relations had fast-tracked the new hire's paperwork after receiving the memo from Rob. I don't know how the issue of the Social Security Number had been handled. Angie told me it was best if I didn't know for now; 'plausible deniability'. Maybe she bought one on the Internet. 

She and I had gone shopping Tuesday afternoon for my new wardrobe. One of my 'executive perks' was a generous clothing allowance, which came in very handy. The outfits we purchased were tasteful. Okay, they were largely tasteful; after all, I was a Vice-President now. With Angie helping me pick out my apparel, you know there were going to be some delightfully feminine touches – like... no pantsuits or pantyhose. Somehow, a portion of my clothing allowance found its way into 'leisurewear'. I even got to expense my new corsetry – and a few other little 'ups and extras'. Sigh. The things we must do to get ahead in Business....

At home, Angie boxed up all of Lance's clothes, shoes, and underwear to make room for Lisa's. She was all set to take it down to Goodwill. I told her an Executive Assistant did not concern herself with grunt work; I would have someone pick it up and deliver it. I did - to a storage locker on North Clark Street, just in case the 'Lisa' thing didn't work out.... 

The whole girly-girl thing completely bewildered me. I had dismissed my childhood wonder long ago as exactly that. Now, that wonderment had sprouted and taken root like a long-dormant seed. It was turning out to be one of those things you didn't know you were going to like, then suddenly discovered you really, really do and can't get enough of. It's kind of like having a compulsion for Hot Fudge Sundaes – without the calories. Angie loved it. She now had a girlfriend at work with whom she had so much in common. That her girlfriend was also her supervisor, whom now wrote her performance reviews, was Serendipity itself. That her girlfriend was also... well, you get the idea.

Dianna couldn't have been happier for me. Now that 'Lisa' was going to be around 24/7, she lobbied me heavily to get 'done'. I was tempted, but worried about the degree of permanence it would attach to this strange new lifestyle. Was I ready for that? I offered up the thirteen weeks remaining before the show as a dodge. Would that be enough time? She argued yes, if we hurried. My lover had been surprisingly understanding about the 'promotion party'. She was not ashamed to admit using sex to get what she wanted and saw no difference in what I did; it wasn't like I was out cruising for a new boyfriend. I didn't see the wisdom in pointing out the 'new boyfriend' may have been out cruising for me. I loved her and that was that. 

She was overwhelmed I had thought so much of her, I had immediately hopped in a cab and come to share it all with her, rather than letting it wait or not telling her at all. No one before me, she avowed, had ever displayed such consideration for her thoughts and feelings. She had begun crying again, and I had to find a creative way to dry her tears and turn her sobs into shrieks of bliss. 

As much as I was learning about her, I still felt Dianna was an enigma. It wasn't so much what she said as what she didn't say. I had had the impression before; she was holding something back. I had visited Ringers and talk to Chantal and the other girls. I learned Dianna, like most of the girls, held back from everyone, including her friends, to protect herself from being hurt. Pain – both physical and emotional – was a constant in their world. I didn't know what she might still be withholding from me, but hoped it wouldn't damage us both.

***

My attorney called Thursday morning. When I had initiated my proceedings against Susan, I had specified that my communications to and from him would be via my cell phone, not through the company switchboard. Although 'Lisa' now had her own cell, I had retained my original one for exactly this reason. As much as I respected Angie, I didn't want to expose my 'dirty laundry' to her or anyone else in the company. Now, I was glad I had had the foresight.

The investigator had dug up a goldmine of information which explained a lot. Jeff Spencer had a major gambling problem. The 'multi-millionaire star' was in serious debt to the bookies. Susan had been carrying him financially. Now she too had been stretched to the limit, maintaining the façade of their star-quality lifestyle. No wonder she wanted me back! So, which ploy would she use? Live with me, while secretly sucking me dry to prop up her lover, or tell me it had "all been an awful mistake, and can you ever forgive me?" - and dump the QB like yesterday's trash? Then again, if she did dump Jeff, how long would she stay this time before her roving eye caught sight of fresh meat? No thanks.

There had been another disturbing development. The phone taps indicated a suspicious pattern of activity between Jeff and another party, presumed to be female. At first the investigator suspected it was simply one of his other lovers – one Susan did not know about. The taps recorded conversation that indicated Jeff was running some kind of sting operation – and I was the target! The apparent intent was to ruin my personal reputation in a very public way, allowing Susan to side-step my allegations of "Open and Notorious Adultery" and clean me out. 

It was unknown at that time whether or not Susan was involved in the set-up, as her voice never appeared in any of the conversations. The communications were directed to and from a pre-paid disposable cell phone which the investigator could not trace. He was currently trying to obtain the cellular records to isolate which cell towers had handled the calls, to get a better idea of where the third party was geographically located. In the meantime, the attorney cautioned me to be especially vigilant in my professional and personal relationships and not involve myself in any activity which could be turned against me legally and, more importantly, publicly.

Now he tells me!

This was a conspiracy theorist's wet dream. Jeff's contact was "presumed to be female." There were a lot of new 'females' in my life of late. Most of them seemed to be hell-bent on pushing me down a path that was guaranteed to explode in my face if it was ever made public. That path had just been institutionalized; 'Lance' was gone and 'Lisa' was a company executive. Angie had pushed hard, blackmailed me down that road. Then again, Dianna wasn't exactly trying to talk me out of it, anymore than were the girls at Ringers. In fact, I met the gorgeous T-girl because she had 'dated' Jeff. For that matter, this would be just the kind of revenge Susan would eat up to get back at me for leaving her, even if it was her own fault. 

The conspirators were not necessarily limited to Jeff and one female, either. That could be just the tip of the iceberg. The firm – that is, Rob and Jim – leased a skybox at Soldier Field for entertaining current and prospective clients, politicians, and other notables. Naturally, they were cozy with the team's management and, on social occasions, player personnel. It wasn't conceivable they had never met Jeff Spencer, the team's star. Could they all be in this together?

My employers had taken great pains to be supportive of me through my crisis with Susan – but dare I take that at face value? Money talks; did my money – the money I made for them in the course of my work - talk louder than the team's? I said the team's because they had a substantial stake in the quarterback's wellbeing. They might not publicly bail him out of his potentially scandalous problem. That would be a public relations disaster for both the team and the league. But if they could deflect any breaking scandal onto another person while helping their 'investment' out financially, wouldn't they jump at the chance? Who do I trust? Perhaps, as the cliché goes, I should trust no one.

Key West was looking better all the time.

***

¡Qué Diga! What do you mean, a 'fashion show'? Have you been holding out on me, Mija?"

"I didn't think it was that big a deal, Angie," I responded, embarrassed. That's why I've been wearing corsets every day. Paul said I would need figure training..."

"Get outta town!" Angie barked. "Paul C., the corset-maker, wants you to model for him? I would kill just to meet him, let alone walk the runway for him. Our paths never seem to cross."

"I can introduce you," I offered. "To tell you the truth, I think you would be perfect as one of his models – much better than me."

"What do you mean, 'much better than you'?" my assistant challenged. "You are gorgeous!"

"Yeah," I countered, "but you have the body for it; I don't. Face it; I'm just not endowed like you. A lot of Paul's creations feature either demi cups or no cups at all. I would need a heavyweight Hollywood special effects artist to craft a convincing pair of boobs and a tush for me to wear that stuff."

"How about a heavyweight Chicago plastic surgeon instead?" the Latina chirped.

Not her, too!

"Actually," I admitted, "I've discussed that with friends. With only thirteen weeks to go, I don't think I could be ready in time."

"Thirteen weeks?" Angie questioned.

Then, her eyes lit up.

"Ohmigod!" she gasped. "You're doing the fashion show at the Mr. Gay Leather Pageant? Oh, Honey; people come from all over the United States, Canada, and Europe for that. It is one of the biggest gay/fetish events of the year! Thirteen weeks is plenty of time if we get on it right now. I'll get on the phone and clear it with Rob. He will eat this up!"

"Do you really think so?" I gushed, with false enthusiasm. "I can't wait."

I gulped – with luck, imperceptibly – and hoped for the umpteenth time I knew what I was doing.

I had embarked upon a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse. I wasn't one to sit back and let events run their course, regardless of the outcome. That is not what commodity traders do. I was determined to discover the nature of the 'hammer', and who was dropping it on me. 

I had my attorney and his investigator on my side. I had not divulged anything about 'Lisa' to them; at least, not yet. My attorney would have had a stroke, with such a revelation coming on the heels of the warning he had just given me. I could not go to The Media. Publicity was the one thing I was trying to avoid at all costs. If the story did break at this point, the conspirators would simply crawl back under their rock and gloat, having accomplished what they set out to do.

I could not go to the police, either. I had learned enough through Dianna and the girls at Ringers to know cops abuse transgenders worse than Society at large. In their eyes, 'Lisa Layne, Executive Vice-President' would appear to be a T-girl scam of epic proportions. At the same time, Jeff Spencer was an idol to every macho jerk in Chicago – particularly the ones wearing badges. Chicago's Finest would more likely take Susan and Jeff's side than mine, unless I could provide iron-clad proof of criminal conduct on their part.

I would have to draw the conspirators out in the open to obtain that proof. To accomplish that, I would need to dangle some bait. Hey, maybe I was in the fishing business after all.

Rob didn't know that heavyweight plastic surgeon personally, but Jim did. His ex-wife swore by the doctor's work – and she had reason(s) to know. Rob gave his enthusiastic Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval and Jim made the call. Chicago is all about Clout; Rob and Jim had it. Yeah, that's right; Five PM, that afternoon, offices on Superior Street, for the consultation.

Before I kept that appointment, I needed to get with Paul, A.S.A.P.

I was glad I didn't have to give up the Mercedes when I gave up 'Lance'. The ploy had been so simple: When Lance decided to leave the firm and get a fresh start, he had sold it to his 'friend', Lisa. She had been grateful to forego the hassle of transporting a car from the city where she had been living. She hadn't been hesitant to tell people around the company the elegant E500 Sport was a nice 'upgrade' from her Lexus. Angie was eating up the luxury sedan as we made our way to Rogers Park. I could tell she was really getting into the perks of the 'Executive' lifestyle.

Paul was as gracious as ever. If he cast a lustful glance at me and the even more voluptuous Angie, he kept it a discreet one.

"Lisa!" he boomed. "You look absolutely lovely! You really are going to be perfect for the show. And who is your charming companion?"

"Paul," I began, "this is my friend, Angie. I was wondering if you could use her..."

"...in a heartbeat," he finished. "She's in. I would be lucky to have her. We can get started taking her measurements immediately."

"Paul," I went on, "there's something else. Angie... well, it looks like I'm gonna get some work done in time for the show; a boob job at least, maybe more."

The growing smile on his face was precious to behold.

"That's fantastic!" he gushed. That's going to put a whole new spin on what I'll have you model. The possibilities...."

Then, his face fell.

"Aw, crap!" he barked. "I've already started your garments, based on your existing measurements. I'm at a point where I can still modify the dimensions, but I won't have any idea what your new measurements will be until it's too late! Can you give me some idea?"

"Uh, mmmm..." I hedged.

I hadn't thought of that. I was too new at this; I couldn't quote him numbers. I glanced around the room, hands raised in exasperation. 

"Will mine do?" Angie inquired sweetly. Butter would have melted in her mouth.

Paul's eyes bugged out.

"You can do that in time?" he asked reverently.

Angie grabbed my arm and snuggled up to me.

"I guarantee we can!" she gushed, before I had a chance to say anything.

"Two of you with the same body?" he queried incredulously. "That body? Dear God; this is a fetish designer's dream come true. With the two of you, plus D-"

"Yes, exactly," I interrupted hastily. "Would that work out?"

"Work out?" he asked, stunned. "It will only be my best show ever – and it's Mr. Gay Leather, too. That is always one of my top-grossing shows. Lisa, my cup runneth over...."

He glanced down at our respective cleavages and grinned.

"Well," he continued, "mine and a few others. Thank you; you made my day. Now, let's get Angie's measurements."

Pure reflex had caused me to cut Paul off before uttering Dianna's name in Angie's presence. I could rationalize my action by citing: in a conspiracy, divide and conquer; never divulge who or how much you already know. I didn't really know a thing, but I wanted to keep the suspects compartmentalized. If I had been really truthful with myself, I would have admitted I didn't want to complicate my life still further by allowing my two lovers to know about each other. Betrayal begins so simply....

On our way back to the car, Angie seized my head in both hands and speared my mouth with a searing kiss. I stumbled, arms flailing, at the sudden onslaught.

"What was that for?" I finally gasped.

"I can think of about a dozen reasons off the top of my head," she chirped, "but for starters, thank you for going through with this."

"I haven't gone through with anything," I pointed out.

"But you will," she continued, unfazed. "I know you will because I know you. Whatever you start, you always see it through. That's just one of a million things, big and small, I love about you, Sweetie."

I flinched when the words left her lips.

Mistaking my suspicion for hesitation, Angie pressed her body tightly against mine and ground her pussy into me enticingly. She smiled that alluring Cheshire smile again.

"You do want my body, don't you?" she purred. "At least, you gave me that impression Monday night."

This was the same double entendre I had experienced with Dianna. If I denied her one, would she then deny me the other? Why should this matter to me when I had Dianna? Did I have Dianna? For that matter, did I have Angie? Beebeebeebeebeebeebeebee....

"Let's go see a doctor about a body," I sighed.

She kissed me softly.

"I knew you would," she murmured. "You are gonna look so delicious with a pair of full, firm melons, a tiny waist, and a big, round bubble butt, just like me!"

As I said: tasteful.

***

Dr. Peter Reagan's offices were in one of those gentrified ex-warehouses. The airy loft-style office was all bright, freshly-sandblasted brick walls, glossy hardwood floors and doors, comfortable-but-not-ostentatious chairs and sofas, framed water colors, brass hardware and the obligatory potted ferns. The high ceilings were criss-crossed with exposed, freshly-insulated ductwork. It almost looked like a River North Yuppie bar, rather than a doctor's office. I half expected the doctor to resemble Butch McGuire, incarnate.




Betrayed Ch. 08



He didn't. Doctor Reagan was in his late thirties and stood about six feet tall, with a thick shock of dark brown hair, piercing grey eyes that missed nothing, rugged good looks and a smile that would melt a glacier in Antarctica. 

"Miss Layne, it is a pleasure to meet you," he intoned sonorously. "You come highly recommended."

"I've heard that," I sighed, smiling ruefully, then added: "Thank you."

The grip from his large hand was so gentle as it took mine, yet I could easily visualize it crushing bone. I was grateful when he offered us seats in his office. My knees were having difficulty supporting my weight in his presence. I knew he knew at a glance, yet his demeanor was nothing but quiet admiration. I glanced down and noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding band. Now why the hell would that interest me?

"Angie," he effused. "It's so good to see you again. Everything is going okay, I trust? They look beautiful!"

I turned my head and gave my companion a 'have-you-been-holding-out-on-me?' stare. She just smirked and shrugged her shoulders a little.

"I couldn't be happier with them, Doctor," she replied brightly. "I've had the nicest compliments about them – which brings us to why we are here today. My friend Lisa adores them so much, she... well, you tell him, Lisa."

Nothing like putting me on the spot. Suck it up, Baby Girl. Play out the string in this tawdry little drama. Lull the Bad Guys into a false sense of security. When they raise their heads - WHAMO!

"I'm so embarrassed to put it this way," I began, "but I am so enchanted with Angie's breasts, I... want a pair just like them."

"Just the breasts?" Dr. Reagan inquired bemusedly.

I could feel my face flush from the base of my neck to my hairline. Angie took my hand in hers.

"She is such a sweetheart," the Latina chimed softly, "and so embarrassed about all this. She's trying to say she wants it all; boobs, buns, hips, the whole package. We're already working on her waistline."

Dr. Reagan came around his desk.

"May I?" he inquired, as he reached for my torso.

He felt around for a moment. The only sign of recognition of my confining undergarment was a twinkle in those grey eyes and a trace of a smile on his lips.

"She's coming along nicely, too," he confirmed. "She obviously has good tone to begin with. I could probably help the process along with some micro-liposuction. Rib removal is an option if you are really serious about an 'hourglass figure'. Might I suggest we take a little off the nose here..."

He indicated the point to which he referred.

"...to make it more delicate-looking. Also, I could tuck a bit at the corners of the eyes to give you a more exotic appearance. Of course, I would also do a trach shave..."

He ran two fingers up my throat.

"...to eliminate that unsightly bump. I could do all of that in a single surgery. You would be back to work in a week and essentially healed in four."

"That's... wonderful," I said hesitantly, steeling myself for what came next, "but what about the breasts and... the rest?"

The doctor perched on the edge of his desk before us, beaming.

"That's the best news," he crooned soothingly, "if you are willing to have a little faith in me. I am taking part in a clinical study of an exciting new body enhancement procedure. There is a new media called Perma-Plast that may make traditional augmentation procedures obsolete. I can craft your body to any proportions you desire. There would be no incisions, therefore no scarring and no lengthy post-op recovery. Angie can tell you what a pain that can be – figuratively and literally."

"It sounds wonderful," I admitted guardedly. "Enhancement without surgery? How is that possible?"

"Easy," the doctor continued. "Perma-Plast is injected directly into the areas we wish to contour. It adheres to the surrounding tissue and sets up its own matrix, mimicking that of the body itself. It is chemically and biologically inert, unlike traditional silicone, so it does not trigger the body's defense mechanisms. Nor does it do long-term autoimmune damage.

"Perma-Plast comes in two formulations. One simulates bone; the other, soft tissue. I would use the first to build up your cheekbones and pelvic girdle, giving you those hips like Angie's. The second formulation would give you the breasts, rounded derriere... and lips, if you so desire."

"Yes!" Angie chirped. "Absolutely!"

"All of it can be done on an outpatient basis," Dr. Reagan assured us, "right here in the office. It builds up gradually, layer upon layer...." 

Layers! Layers! Ogres have layers!

 

"As I said," the doctor continued, "I can contour your body to any proportions you desire. Of course, you are welcome to undergo traditional implantation surgery if you prefer. Angie can tell you exactly what to expect. You will be mostly in bed for the first two weeks, severely limited in range of motion for a month, and substantially limited for one more. If that is your preference, I need to know right away so I can put a rush on the implant order."

I played along.

"I would certainly be willing to forego the pleasure of being knocked on my butt for two months. I guess I will go for Door Number One. What is the schedule?"

"We do the blood work and a Perma-Plast skin test right now," Doctor Reagan pronounced. "That way, we make sure you are not allergic to the material. The lab work is done right here in the building, so I can have the results tonight. If you are one of the very small percentage of the population allergic to Perma-Plast, you will notice a skin reaction by tomorrow. I can schedule the surgical procedures for Monday morning. We can have you back on your feet in no time."

One of his nurses drew the blood from the crook of my right elbow, then popped a tiny amount of Perma-Plast just under the skin of my left forearm with a hypodermic needle. I took Angie back to the office to have her report to Rob and Jim that I would be out the following week. I begged off from a pre-surgical celebration, claiming I really wanted to relax tonight. 

My head was swimming with too much information. Agreeing to the procedures had been a ploy on my part. If the conspirator(s) believed I was going ahead with my procedures, they might become complacent enough to tip their hand. I would have two days to make something happen before I went under the knife. If I did, I might not have to go through with the surgery at all. The taps of Jeff Spencer's telephones would tell the tale. Then again, what proof did I have Jeff's plan to ruin me had anything to do with 'Lisa'? I hadn't really lied to Angie; I did want to relax, but not with any of them.

Out of the frying pan.... I called Dianna. She assured me she wasn't doing anything that night that wouldn't keep, thanks to my generosity with her rent. I took her to Geja's on Armitage for fondue. The live classical guitar music had always been one of my favorite, most relaxing mood-enhancers and I needed that now. Feeding Dianna forkfuls of steak, chicken, lobster, and fresh-cut vegetables, flash-fried in the table-top peanut oil fondue pot, was a flashback to the previous Sunday's pizza seduction. 

When it came time for desert – chunks of Angel Food cake, marshmallows and fresh fruit, dipped in boiling chocolate – I could see the gleam in her eye that told me she had other ideas for the confection than feeding each other with fondue forks. Watching her gently lap dripping chocolate from the cherry I held before her lips was priceless, and worth every penny of the dinner's cost. Then she delicately grasped the cherry in her teeth and tugged it away from the fork, as softly as you please....

At least we made it through our front door before we began ripping each other's clothes off. The bedroom would have to wait. Our surging passions deposited us on the deep rug in front of the fireplace. The Dura-Flame log was ignited with a single long-stemmed match. The log was the only illumination in the room, but not the only thing ablaze. Our first coupling was not so much sex as a frantic, desperate fuck, fueled by a yearning born of too many days apart. I felt so... complete to have her inside me again. It would break my heart if I found out she was part of the conspiracy. Right now, I wanted to put all that out of my mind. Just let go....

***

"Baby, do you know a 'Doctor Reagan'?

This was not my preferred method of being awaken on a Saturday morning. Then again, Dianna could awaken me by asking me how to throw a knuckle ball and, coming from her lips, I would think it heavenly. Now, if someone could just teach the Cubs' pitching staff....

"Yes," I replied sleepily. "Why?"

"His office is on the phone," she informed me. "He wishes to speak with you."

"On a Saturday?" I questioned, accepting the handset and bidding the receptionist a good morning.

After a moment, the doctor himself came on the line.

"Good morning, Lisa," he greeted in a tone worthy of commercial voice-overs. "Would it be much of a bother to come into the office this morning? I would like to review your test results with you before your surgery Monday morning."

"Is there a problem?" I asked, concerned.

"No," he assured me. "Quite the opposite. Monday is a 'go', as far as your body is concerned. I just wanted to confirm what we will be doing and get the releases signed."

"Uh, I suppose I can pull myself together and be there in an hour," I responded. "Will that be okay?"

"Perfect!" he confirmed. "We'll see you then."

I had filled Dianna in the night before on my upcoming surgery. She had been excited, to say the least. She asked about my boob job and how big I was going to go. I relayed to her the information about Perma-Plast and that my breast enhancement would be an ongoing thing for several weeks. Her eyes grew as big as saucers.

"You're gonna get pumped?" she gushed. "Oh, Baby, that's wonderful! We will be closer than ever."

She hugged me so tightly, I thought she would end up behind me, a la Groucho Marx. She admitted she, too, had gone that route to figure enhancement – the 'old school' way. Dianna felt this was just one more intimacy shared between us, a way of proving to her how much I cared for her. I hadn't envisioned that when I agreed to the procedure – if, in fact, I went through with it – but was delighted it pleased her so.

We actually arrived at Doctor Reagan's office three minutes earlier than anticipated. The receptionist ushered us right in. I introduced Dianna and we took our seats. The doctor reiterated all the tests showed I was "disgustingly healthy" – lamenting his lack of time for keeping up with his own workout schedule. He confirmed and reviewed my upcoming rib removal, micro-liposuction, rhinoplasty, eye tuck and trach shave, having me sign the necessary forms for each. Dianna fidgeted in her chair, growing more excited by the moment. Discretion was not her strong suit.

"How soon can you start pumping her?" she blurted out.

We both gazed at her with the amusement of a parent fielding "How many days until Christmas?" for the umpteenth time. The doctor turned to me.

"Actually, that was one of the reasons I asked you in this morning," he pronounced. "May I see your arm?"

I extended my left arm for his examination. The almost-imperceptible bump was still there; otherwise, nothing.

"I couldn't ask for better," he announced. "There isn't a trace of reaction or rejection."

He winked at Dianna, then focused on me, smiling.

"In answer to her question," he responded, "there is no reason we cannot begin right now. Would that be soon enough to satisfy you?"

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. I wore mine in my throat. Dianna was crushing me in an anaconda-like death grip. My rib removal would be child's play; the doctor would merely have to retrieve bone fragments.

"Shouldn't we wait until after my... surgery?" I questioned hesitantly.

Doctor Reagan shook his head.

"There is no need to," he assured me. "If we do it today, the receptor sites will already be set up by Monday morning. Besides, none of them will be the subject of our surgical procedures. There is one more detail; I would like to get you started on your hormone therapy as soon as possible."

"Hormones?" I repeated.

"Yes," the surgeon confirmed. "We can do the figure enhancement without them, but the results will have an angular, artificial cast to them. The combination of estrogen and progestin will round out your curves, giving your body a lush, more natural look. Also, they will aid in the assimilation of the Perma-Plast matrix."

Caught in my own web of intrigue! Suddenly, I no longer had two days to sound out the conspirators, make them make a move. I didn't have two minutes. 

Last chance, Pal. You can get a little walk-up with a balcony overlooking Duval Street. You can take the rich tourists out in the morning, fish and drink beer until late afternoon, then come home and drink yourself into a stupor at Sloppy Joe's and stagger home, just like Papa Hemmingway. You can christen your boat "Busted Flush". Just walk away from all of this now. Even your eyebrows will grow back. If you change your name to Travis McGee, no one will ever know....

All I had to do was say: "no; let's wait until after the surgery." Then, when Monday morning rolled around.... The look in Dianna's eyes was the most hopeful, anticipatory, loving one I had seen in years. Even suspecting her as I did, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her. Just let go....

"Okay," I softly sighed.



Betrayed Ch. 09



Chapter Nine: The Game's Afoot

The weeks passed; March, April, and into May. I won't dwell on the mechanics of the surgery or post-op. Either Angie or Dianna was at my side almost constantly, but never together. I don't want to say I 'juggled' them, but it was sometimes a delicate balancing act. I was head-over-heels for Dianna, but couldn't deny my feelings for Angie. How could I choose between one or the other? In truth, the choice might not be mine to make; I might end up with neither.

Dianna, especially, was much more emotional than I had ever seen her before. She fussed over me, telling me how much she flat-out adored me. Then she would burst into tears for no reason I could see. Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the victim of raging hormones around here! I certainly appreciated her raw display of emotion for me, yet I couldn't help but wonder; was there more behind her tears than just love?

My nose looked... pert – another new descriptor I thought I would never use about myself. It was still a touch swollen - and numb; they told me that goes away after about a year. OK, I liked my eyes; sue me. Everyone else was crazy about them, especially when they were made up. My cheekbones and lips were both fuller. It was scary to see people I knew and cared about just stare at me, speechless, captivated. I knew I would get used to it – I had to get used to a lot of things – but at the time, it was still new.

The rest of the body was new, too. I had already been wearing a corset every day before the surgery, so that didn't make a difference. The results were different. Angie and I were both on target to have twenty-inch corseted waistlines by the time of the show. Dianna's corseted waist was already eighteen inches - the bitch. Paul was absolutely ecstatic. 

The prosthetic breasts were gone. I was a full DD-cup all by myself; well, me and Perma-Plast. They looked huge at first; but then, so had Dianna when I first met her. That was one more thing I was getting used to in a hurry. It was nice to be able to show off my cleavage – a modest amount at work and more on my own time. My backside had filled out just as nicely.

This is one of those little joys women never tell men; only each other. There had been a few occasions – becoming more frequent with time – I had walked past some guy in the office or on the street, traveling in the other direction. In a second or two, I heard a thump or clang as he walked into a wall, file cabinet or light pole because he wasn't watching where he was going. If any woman tells you that doesn't bring a smile to her face, she is lying to you.

The physical transition was surprisingly easy. The mental transition – with the understanding I would not be changing back – was much harder. It took a while to get beyond the angst and anguish. How could I abandon all that I had been? I came to realize I hadn't. Intellectually, I was still the same person, doing much the same routine. The packaging was different. The perceptions, both internal and external, were different. The emotions also were different; in part, due to the hormones. Over time, my perception on a whole was one of gain, not loss. Remember that hot fudge sundae? What if you could eat from it every day, never lose your taste for it, and never gain an ounce? 

Upon returning from Post-Op, I surprised even myself how quickly I wrapped my mind around work. I had watched CNN and CNBC while I was recuperating. I had seen some report or other about the continuing drought in the western U.S. and Canada. As soon as I was up and around, I booked a flight west to talk to some of the farm groups that had appeared on television. 

I heard first-hand from them how bad the situation really was, minus the candy-coated coverage the corporate-owned networks had given the story. I called the office immediately and ordered STG to gobble up Winter Wheat futures like Pac-Man. About a month later, the Department of Agriculture announced the harvest would be down about twenty percent, due to the drought. Harvest gold turned into real gold for us as the price of Winter Wheat skyrocketed.

Most people had not anticipated how bad the Asian Bird Flu epidemic would be, nor how it would affect poultry prices here. It was simple; after having to destroy a significant percentage of its poultry population, China would need to re-supply itself with untainted chickens; a lot of them. We bought poultry futures – and made out like the fox guarding the hen house. Essentially, China caught a cold, the rest of the world sneezed, and we cornered the market on tissues. 

Those trades, on top of the oil deal, had made this a banner year for our company – and the year wasn't even half-over. The Christmas bonus checks were gonna fill everyone with holiday cheer this year and they were looking at STG as their 'Santa'. The guys in Strategic Trades were calling my instincts eerie; Twilight Zone stuff. They claimed it was like Lance never left; that he cloned himself into me, somehow. I just smiled and thanked them for the lovely compliment. I didn't mean to intimidate them. I had worked with some of them three years; they just didn't know it.

I thanked my lucky stars I was so good as a commodities trader; Sam Spade, I wasn't. Memorial Day was two weeks away and I didn't feel any closer cracking the case than before my surgery. Angie, and I were in rehearsals for the fashion show. Dianna had gone to visit a girlfriend in Los Angeles, but promised to be back in plenty of time. Paul was not worried by her absence. As a veteran of previous shows, he was confident she knew what he expected of her and would "come up to speed" quickly. 

I was grateful for the respite from throwing Angie and Dianna together. Then again, perhaps I needed to throw them together to force one or the other to show her hand – if, indeed, either was in league with Jeff Spencer. No one in my inner circle had given the slightest hint of being in on a conspiracy. There were no signs coming from outside, either. Was it all a desperate ruse on the quarterback's part? C'mon, Guys; I can't make the bait any riper, juicier, or more tempting. On the other hand, maybe I can....

Rob and Jim had one of those society charity things to go to the third Saturday of the month. The Mayor and most of the City's movers and shakers would be there, including those in the various sports franchises. To the boys, it was a given that Angie and I would accompany them. In fact, they put it to us exactly that way – at the Executive Staff Meeting Thursday morning. They were at a loss for our reaction. What do you mean the invitation took you completely by surprise? It doesn't take you three days to get dressed, does it? You know those guys who go berserk with an assault rifle in the workplace? I'm beginning to understand.... Anyway, I had more important things to dwell on at that moment. I didn't have a thing to wear... or did I? 

I must have stared at the dress a hundred times, hanging there in my closet. You want to talk about guilt? I had left messages for Dianna at the number she gave me, but she hadn't called me back yet. Sure, I could have cruised Michigan Avenue and found something else. My instincts were nudging me; there was something about this dress and its connotations to the unfolding conspiracy that made it the perfect choice. If this be my 'Maltese Falcon', let me wear it well....

Oops! Perhaps a little too well. I was now bigger on top than Dianna. I had gone the whole route; salon, then the red calfskin corset and matching thong, sheer black hose, the dress itself, and the jewels. I wouldn't need the coat; it was unseasonably warm for May (this, in a city where it is not unheard of to see snow the second week in June, then ninety-plus degrees by the Fourth of July). I overflowed the bodice provocatively. The skirt fit my tush snugly, too. Then again, if I was chumming for sharks, why do half-measures?

Rob looked positively dashing in his black tie and tux. In line with the marine analogy, he gasped like a fish out of water when he first laid eyes on me. It took a very stout straight-arm to his chest to bring him back into focus and away from his all-too-obvious advance. We were doing the 'star turn' all the way; he helped me into the back seat of the limo, then seated himself next to me. We picked up Jim and Angie, then sipped champagne on our way to the City Cultural Center on Washington Street, formerly the Central Library.

"I knew I would see you in that dress sooner or later," Angie gushed. "My God, Girlfriend; if you take a deep breath, you're gonna bust right out of it, you shameless hussy, you!"

"And this," I retorted with mock cattiness, "from someone whose body makes a Donatella Versace original look like Frederick's of Hollywood?"

Actually, Angie was stunning in the fuscia satin bustier-style sheath. We had fled the office immediately after the Thursday morning meeting and found it in the couturier salon at 'Needless Markup'. Her eyes glazed over when she saw herself in it in the three-way mirror. Those eyes filled with tears when she read the price tag. She wept openly when I put it on my platinum card.

"Listen, puta," I had teased, "you got me into this mess three months ago. I'll be damned if I'm going it alone."

I had kissed her softly on the cheek to soften the faux blow.

"Besides," I had cooed, "you deserve it."

There was more champagne and canapés when we arrived, plus an honest-to-God string quartet in the main salon and a harpist in the smaller 'Conservatory' – what, once upon a time, had been the Reference Room. This was rare air, even for someone who has been in the corporate culture for a while. There is something intimidating about rubbing elbows with people whose last names appear on public buildings and corporate logos, not to mention packages of hot dogs or bacon. Angie was already on Cloud Nine and I was working on getting a leg up. 

Apparently, we were perceived as some kind of visiting royalty, on loan to the two investment wunderkind of the hour. Boy, did we get the double- and triple-takes! Rob and Jim were basking in the glow of attention they were receiving, both for their achievements and their choice of companions. Astute politician that he is, even the Mayor had compliments to pay, citing us as "a shining example of what makes The Great City of Chicago great." Considering the direction of his gaze, I wasn't sure if he was referring to our investment successes or our bustlines.

One of the many things I admire about Rob Nelson is his utter selflessness when it comes to giving credit where credit is due. 

"I would love to tell you it was some well-planned grand strategy on my part," he began, turning my way. "In fact, it was really..."

He paused in mid-sentence as he felt the increasing pressure of my stiletto heel on his instep. I shook my head imperceptibly, then hugged his arm tightly and inhaled deeply, inflating my chest to epic proportions.

"... a spur-of the moment thing, which I credit to my companion, Lisa Layne," he ad-libbed. "She and her friend, Angelina Torres, were generous enough to take time off from their careers in Hollywood to visit Jim and myself this past few months and lend their moral support. You know how it is; when your muse beckons, you follow."

He's quick on his feet, too. I like that in a man. I couldn't have asked for a better cover story. Since they would not be able to place our names, faces, or anatomies to any big-budget Hollywood productions, I was sure our new admirers would rush home that night and check their other DVDs.

This was not some sudden attack of modesty on my part. I was seeing other 'movers and shakers' – of the gridiron variety - interspersed throughout the crowd. My instincts had flashed me a warning; this might not be the best time to take a high profile. Then again, in this dress, with my push-up corset, I couldn't help but take a high profile.

As is so often the case in these society affairs – like I would know, right? – our little group became separated by the dynamics of shifting conversations and conversationalists. I had spent a goodly amount of time charming the pants off a group of industrialists (figuratively-speaking, but not for lack of desire on their part) when I sensed a body immediately behind mine; not touching, but definitely inside my personal space. Rob was deft about showing his affection without appearing overly familiar in such a setting. I smiled and moved a fraction of an inch closer in response. After a moment I turned....

Okay, you would think by then I would have been used to incipient heart failure; not so. Jeff Spencer's eyes were almost as blue as mine. His had a predatory glint to them, sizing me up like a piece of meat. Even in my nearly-six-inch heels, I had to look up to him.

"I couldn't help but notice you are the most beautiful woman here," he offered.

Now that was suave – NOT! Are you sure you graduated from high school, Big Boy? 

So this was it. He had picked this time and place – in front of the city's elite – to 'out' me as a man. Mentally, I judged the vertical distance from floor to crotch, factored in flexibility, heel height, plus strength and speed of my up-thrusting knee. Yep; that should just about do it. Sopranos, here he comes....

"Why, thank you, Sir!" I oozed with appropriate unctuousness. "Have we met before?"

"I would remember if we had," he schmoozed back. "Allow me; I'm Jeff Spencer of the..."

"Of course," I interjected. "I've seen you on TV. I must say, the camera angles don't do you justice."

No, but I will. Just give me an excuse, Sport-o. Your next endorsement will be for the Vienna Boy's Choir instead of the Vienna Sausage Company.

"On the subject of Justice," he segued....

Here it comes....

"...it's positively criminal for a gorgeous woman like you to be standing there with an empty champagne flute. What do you say we waylay a waiter and rob him blind?

So that's your game; take me someplace private and apply a little blackmail, with the implied threat of outing me to everyone who is anyone. You are slicker than I gave you credit for, Buster. Okay; let's play. Perhaps I can get you to give up your partner, too....

"Oh, let's," I chirped, slipping my arm through his. "They aren't being nearly attentive enough anyway. Perhaps we can shake things up a bit."

Believe me, the smug smile and undulating tush was all an act. Inside, I was screaming. The knee ploy was useless at this angle, unless I could spin on his arm really fast. Godzilla here could crush me like a grape. On the other hand, if I timed it right, I could skewer his foot with my stiletto heel and pin it to the floor, right through that ultra-sheik, ultra-expensive, ultra-thin Bruno Magli. I'll have you singing in the upper registers yet, Butch.

Somehow, I didn't think the waiters were hiding out in the stairwell. Then again, I hadn't bought the champagne ploy for an instant. As soon as the fire door closed behind us, I spun to face him, expecting a mouthful of fist. Instead, I got a mouthful of... mouth – and tongue. My arms flailed about ineffectually as I was pinned to the wall. 

Oh, no you don't, you sick sonofabitch! You are NOT gonna have your way with me, THEN out me to half the city of Chicago! Just lean into me a little bit more and I will FedEx my reply; absolutely, positively guaranteed delivery.... 

He got a handful of tittie, massaging my rapidly-hardening nipple with thumb and forefinger. That brought everything into soft focus. My struggles dissipated like so much dust in the wind. My mind was screeching at this ultimate treachery. What chance did I have to beat him at this dangerous game when my own body betrayed me? 

His other hand was hovering around his crotch, doing... I couldn't tell what. Then that hand took my hand and pulled it forward. Oh... my... dear... sweet... Jesus! Godzilla is right; this guy is a monster! I can't begin to explain it; Auto-Pilot kicked in at that exact moment. I sank to my knees and had him unzipped and exposed – with difficulty – a few moments later. I actually made him back up half a step so I could face it properly. I softly encircled it with my right hand and ever-so-gently stroked its length, all the way to the base. Holding my hand there, I realized with detached awe my small hand covered little more than a quarter of its total length! 

Don't even ask what was going through my mind as I inhaled the bulbous, purplish head. At that point, my thought processes had all the coherence of a bowl of alphabet soup. That was the only way I could have gotten that slippery snake down my throat. As I sucked him, one lucid thought gradually came to the forefront:

There is a just and merciful God, after all!

All I had to do was smile, close my eyes, and take a great, big bite; Vienna Sausage and Vienna Boy's Choir, all in one gulp!

Yeah, right. That was when the next lucid thought hit me. I was about to maim a hero to tens of thousands of Chicagoans without a shred of hard evidence (discounting what was in my mouth) of criminal conduct. Baby, if you don't think The Media would sniff out my story then.... For all that certain anguish, I still didn't have a thing on him other than my lips and tongue. 

God hates me; He really, really does.

The thoughts were coming faster now, on pace with my ministrations to his cock. Jeff hadn't given the slightest indication this was his revenge on me, or even a prelude to it. He hadn't given any indication he even knew me. Was he that good an actor? He was treating me like I was just another of his adoring bimbos. Was it just possible he didn't know who I was?

Whether he did or not, Boulder Dam opened its floodgates and dumped a raging torrent down my spillway. I hadn't even realized I had been massaging my own clitty with my other hand. I shuddered through my own release, barely holding it together as I held him between my lips. Surely goodness and mercy.... Anticipating either Rob or Angie – or both – might be in a playful mood that night, I had heeded Dianna's long-ago advice and sheathed my clitty in a latex mitten, tucked discretely back inside my calfskin thong. I could take care of that little problem later, at my leisure.

We corralled a passing waiter as we strolled arm-in-arm into the main salon. As we sipped the chilled bubbly, we were immersed in conversation.

"We really must get together again and finish what we started," Jeff intoned in my ear.

"There's more?" I inquired innocently.

"Oh, yeah, Baby," he replied, "a lot more. How about next Saturday?"

I shook my head.

"Sorry," I demurred. "I have a thing planned. I don't know how long it will last."

He nodded disappointedly.

"Actually, I do, too," he agreed. "Our promotions people have me doing a publicity appearance at the fag pageant over at the Hilton. I'm gonna be appearing with some models at a fashion show. I know one of them. God, I hope the rest aren't all dogs...."

My face lit up.

"Woof, woof," I barked playfully.

He gaped at me, astonished.

"You're kidding," he gasped. "You?"

I nodded, smiling. Just then, I caught sight of Angie, chatting with a group on the other side of the room. I extended an exquisitely-manicured index finger in her direction.

"And my friend there, too," I purred. "We're kind of a matched set."




Betrayed Ch. 09



"Jesus," he whispered hoarsely. "I think I've died and gone to Heaven. I have some other, more personal business to wrap up there next weekend. I thought that was gonna be the highlight of my week, month, and year. Now, with you and your friend there...."

His voice trailed off. He stopped and spun me around.

"We will get together then, right?"

At that instant, I looked over his shoulder and spotted Susan coming up behind him at full steam. I couldn't resist. I leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I purred.

Susan slipped her arm into his as smoothly as silk. Her smile was bright, but her eyes were cold as ice.

"Thank you for keeping my boyfriend company while I was busy," she intoned with veiled menace.

I glanced up at his blushing face with a twinkle in my eyes.

"My pleasure," I smirked, turning to walk away. My hips and tush undulated as though on rails.

"Will we be seeing you later, Miss...?" she called out behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and winked.

"Lisa," I giggled. "Lisa Layne. I'm certain you will."

She was glaring at Jeff with a look that could only mean one thing: Wait 'til I get you home.

Angie looked quizzically at the smirk on my lips. Then she glanced over my shoulder and spotted Susan and Jeff. I thought she was going to have a coronary. She raced to my side, grabbed my arm and led me hurriedly away, leaning her head close to mine.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she murmured. "What on earth did you think you were doing?"

I shrugged my shoulders a little and smiled contentedly.

"Damage assessment," I chirped. "Either they were very good actors or didn't have a clue who I was."

Angie's face was right in mine. She was about to give me another piece of her mind when she stopped – and sniffed my breath. I guess the champagne didn't completely mask the odor. She rolled her eyeballs and shook her head with resignation.

"Now I know you have a death wish," she moaned, then looked up at me with a rueful smile on her lips. "Time for some more mouthwash-thingies. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Anything you wish, Lover," I whispered in her ear, "but we should probably wait until later - after this little shindig is over. You know how people like to talk. By the way, let's not forget who started me down the road of living dangerously."

Susan did see me later that evening. I caught her out of the corner of my eye, glaring at me from across the room. When a member of the group I was in shifted to one side and Susan saw I was on Rob's arm, I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. She resumed conversation with various members of her group, glancing in my direction. A couple of the men smiled and said something or other that made her flush scarlet. My best guess was, Angie and I had just been outed for our suspected careers 'going down in The Valley'. Shortly after, Susan was dragging Jeff by the arm towards the door.

Later that night, Angie and I 'starred' in our own production for two very appreciative admirers, back in Rob's condo. The sex had only been better when I was sharing it with Dianna alone. Then again, it was my attitude that had changed in a major way. I was no longer hunkered down in a siege mentality. I had made a major breakthrough in understanding the time and place Jeff would make his move against me. I wasn't close to knowing everything, but it was falling into place at last. In fact, I could actually see where I might have the upper hand for the first time. Angie's reaction to my chance meeting with Jeff and Susan had been a major piece to the puzzle as well. On the one hand, I was feeling more confident about her. On the other hand....

Forget Sam Spade. Think Sherlock Holmes:

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

I didn't like the thought of that at all.



Betrayed Ch. 10



Chapter Ten: Everything That Has A Beginning...

I would have loved to be waiting at the gate at O'Hare when Dianna de-planed from L.A. that Sunday night. I had to settle for the Baggage Claim Area. Those people working for the Transportation Security Administration have no sense of humor. I guess at eight dollars an hour, they can't afford one. Then again, the other passengers were treated to quite a show, right there in front of the carousel; the knock-out brunette and blonde hugging and kissing like something right out of a Vivid video.

It was going to be our place that night, not her studio in Lakeview; I wouldn't take "no" for an answer. She hesitated only a moment, then acquiesced willingly. My lover seemed genuinely relieved at the prospect. She was cuddled up next to me, her arm through mine, the entire trip down the Kennedy Expressway into town. We didn't utter a word, allowing the nearness of our bodies to speak volumes. I was having a hard time reconciling her reaction to me with the growing body of evidence suggesting she was setting me up for Jeff Spencer.

Dianna was tense, agitated. Whatever the cause, she did not want to talk about it. We were just exiting at Ohio Street when the cell phone rang. It wasn't my cell; either of them. The ring tone was some downloaded Hip-Hop clip. I glanced down at Dianna's purse. She stared out the windshield.

"Ignore it," she stated matter-of-factly.

"But," I began, "it might be..."

She spun her head to glare at me.

"Ignore it!" she barked sharply. "I am. You have my undivided attention tonight. I will not share you with anyone – especially not Angelina Torres."

BUS-TED!

Well, not really. Dianna already knew Angie was my Personal Assistant. She also knew I had had sex with the lovely Latina that first night at Rob's condo because I had told her everything about that afternoon and evening. Since then - and the dust-up over my 'date' with Daniel - she hadn't pressed me about subsequent liaisons, just as I hadn't probed her about her business. It had been an unspoken agreement between Dianna and myself to spend our time together focused on each other, not externals. Given my conflicted feelings for the two women, I was thankful for that. Perhaps that dynamic had changed in Dianna's mind.

Once inside our door, the gorgeous shemale attacked me as though she hadn't had sex in a year. We didn't so much have sex as engage in a prolonged, frantic fuck, replete with bruised ribs, love bites, pinched, sore nipples, and stretched, aching holes. Afterward, we lay together, spooned, with me in her arms. We were both shivering; physically and emotionally spent. Dianna murmured into my ear.

"Would you tell me about you and Angie if I asked?"

I continued to stare straight ahead.

"Would you tell me about you and Jeff Spencer?" I responded, taking a shot in the dark.

Behind me, I felt her body momentarily tense.

"I deserved that," she replied. "Before I say anything else, I have to know; do you love me?

"Yes," I avowed, "without reservation."

"Do you believe in me?" she continued.

I was glad she phrased it that way. There is a fine line between 'believe in' and 'trust' – if only in my own mind. At that point, my answers to the two would probably have been different. Perhaps she sensed that before she worded her inquiry.

"Yes," I repeated.

"Then believe in this," she intoned with feeling. "In the three months we have been together, you have become my life, my reason for living. I have never told that to another human – ever. I never thought I ever would. My lifestyle doesn't lend itself to deep emotional attachments. I got lucky with you – very lucky.

"Do you remember what I told you in the beginning, at the restaurant? 'A week, a month, a lifetime; it makes no difference. When it's right, it's right; you just know it.' We are right. We belong together. I didn't know it that first time, when we met at the club. I have known since that fabulous Valentine's Day weekend, though. Every day, I thank God for sending you to me."

"I can't get enough of you," I affirmed softly. "In the beginning, it was wonderful; just you and me, forget about anything and everyone else. Then, things started getting... complicated. You were with me a lot after my surgery and I loved that. Now that I'm becoming more... well, more like you... and I wanted me to be, I feel like we are drifting apart. I hardly ever see you as it is. Then, you left for L.A...."

My lover kissed me softly on the nape of my neck.

"You haven't seen me because I have been trying to stay away from you," she explained. "It's not because I don't love you; it's because I do."

"That makes no sense, Dianna," I complained petulantly. "It's about you and Jeff Spencer, isn't it? Look, I know he's a lot bigger than me – in that way; probably a better lay, too...."

She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me over to face her.

"What did I just tell you?" she scolded. "You are everything I could have ever hoped for in a lover and life partner. If I had my way, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me. Things have gotten complicated and yes, it involves you and that freak. I don't even want to know how you know how big he is. I have a feeling the answer would make me sick.

"Let's clear the air about Mister Jeffrey fucking Spencer, shall we? Ignore that wonder rod of his for a moment. Have you noticed how big the rest of him is, how well developed? He has been on steroids since he started college; he admitted it to me. That is how he got to be such an All-American stud on the football field. Off the field, it was just the opposite. Oh yeah, he had a nice-sized dick and probably a pretty good set of balls – at one time. The steroids have been fucking with that. He needed the Little Blue Pill just to get it up.

"That all changed a few months before I met you. His white bread girlfriend – your ex-wife – convinced him to get a penile implant! Now, whenever he wants to have sex, all he has to do is pump himself up. I'm sure it feels just fine in your ex's pussy, but he goddamn tears me apart every time he fucks me."

"Then why do it?" I wailed. "Why not just kiss his ass good-bye, leave that place, that life if you have to, and come home to me?"

My lover just stared at the sheets for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"That's the complicated part, Baby Doll," she stated solemnly. "I can't... I don't want to go into all of it right now. I know that isn't fair, but I'm trying to protect you. Please don't press me on it. I can tell you this much. The steroids have fucked with his head, too. You haven't seen him when he loses his temper; you don't want to."

"Dammit, Dianna!" I exclaimed. "Stay away from him. If I even suspect that bastard is beating you, I swear I will...."

"STOP IT!" she shrieked. "That is exactly why I didn't want to tell you anything. There is just enough 'man' left in you to do something really brave, and noble, and stupid. He would pound you into the woodwork like a ten-penny nail, then go out for pizza and beer with the boys. I know what I'm doing, Baby. I'm a big girl now; I can take care of myself."

"You don't have to," I avowed. "We can take care of you. I'm in this too, remember? I would give it all up – the job, condo, clothes, car, everything - to keep you safe. I have more than we will ever need to live on. We can go anywhere; just walk away from all of it – together."

Dianna kissed me tenderly on the lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You would do it, too, wouldn't you?" she sobbed. "You really do know how to push all the right buttons. Just remember you said that."

Dianna and I showered and dressed together Monday morning. She insisted on taking a cab back to her place; she didn't want me anywhere near it. I reluctantly kissed her good-bye, then put her in the cab. After that, I went to work. I was an emotional wreck all week. Angie and I had done our final rehearsals with Paul. He told us Dianna had met with him separately. I was excited about – and dreaded – the upcoming weekend. I stayed away from trades completely; I didn't trust my instincts at all at that moment. I had called Dianna several times – and left messages on her voicemail. She hadn't called back. I spent most of Friday standing before my window, arms folded under my chest, staring down at La Salle Street.

I didn't even hear Angie come up behind me around four o'clock. She slipped her arms around me from behind and hugged me to her. I was grateful for the human contact and backed myself closer to her.

"You are wasting your time here, Mija," she purred soothingly. "You are a thousand miles away right now. Rob, Jim and Shirley are already gone. Most of the staff is chomping at the bit, ready to bolt for the holiday weekend. What do you say we blow this pop stand early, too? We'll go over to North Pier, have greasy ribs and Hurricanes at Dick's Last Resort, lick each other's fingers clean, throw napkins up into the ceiling fan and insult the other guests like the wait staff does. We can watch the boats dock, pick the one we like most, accost the owner, and convince him how much cooler he will look cruising the lake this summer with us laying on his deck, sunning ourselves in our skimpiest thong bikinis. Then we can go back across the street to your place and fuck our brains out. Does that sound like a plan?"

Damn it, it did; all of it. God knew, I needed something to break the tension I had been feeling the last five days. Getting drunk and disorderly on Hurricanes at Dick's would certainly fill the bill. We could even add to our growing collection of tulip glasses in the kitchen cupboard – if we didn't drop them, staggering across the street to my building. The thought of having sex with her wasn't exactly a turn-off, either. Damn me for thinking that! I had been in bed with Dianna five nights before, telling her I loved her. Now, I wanted to take Angie home and rock her world – and let her rock mine. Who would I be betraying? Dianna? Angie? Or both?

I turned to take her in my arms.

"Angie," I began, "it sounds wonderful; every rum-soaked, rowdy, in-your-face minute of it. I'm just not sure cheap, meaningless sex with you is such a good idea right now. Haven't you ever thought about finding someone who...."

In all the time Angie and I had worked together, I had never seen her burst into tears like that. She broke free from my embrace and ran from my office, sobbing. I dashed after her, as fast as my heels would carry me. She had already grabbed her purse and was locking her desk. I placed my hand on her arm. She jerked hers away, not even looking at me. This time I grasped both biceps firmly and turned her to look at me. In our heels, we were almost exactly the same height.

"What?" I questioned firmly.

She struggled to free herself, avoiding my gaze.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked. "Go find some other bimbo to toy with."

"You are not going anywhere until you tell me what this is all about," I intoned evenly.

"I can't believe," she wept, "that is all I mean to you after everything we've been through and done together. 'Cheap, meaningless sex?' So, I was just the little office slut all this time. I am such an idiot. Well, you are right about one thing; I feel really cheap."

I uttered the only intelligent thing that came to mind at that moment.

"Huh?"

"If you have no objections," she hissed, "I'll just move back to STG Monday morning. I'll send Debbie up here to replace me. You'll like her; she bends over in a light breeze."

"TIME OUT!" I roared – well, with as much authority as my voice had anymore.

I yanked down, hard, on her arms. She dropped into her chair like a sack of potatoes. I perched on the front edge of her desk, glaring down at her. She glared right back, defiantly.

"What I was trying to say was," I pronounced carefully, marshalling my thoughts as I went, "haven't you ever wanted to find someone who really meant something to you? You made it clear to me, right from the beginning; you could have any man you want. I'm sorry if this sounds shallow of me, but I'm tired of being just another of your casual conquests. I know it's only been three months since I separated from Susan, but I want – need – something more than that now."

Angie stared at me, mouth agape, then shook her head as though trying to clear it.

"Let me get this straight," she growled with equal slow precision. "You thought you were just another casual fuck to me?"

I nodded. The slap came out of nowhere, stunning me.

"How could you?" she wailed. "As good as you look, as sexy a slut as you have become, you can be such a man sometimes!"

"What was I supposed to think?" I screamed.

"When I told you I could have any man I wanted," she screamed back. "You were supposed to know I meant I wanted you. I have wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you – long before I knew there was a 'Lisa'. Once I found out she existed, I knew I couldn't live without you."

"But you never told me that!" I protested emphatically.

"I shouldn't have to!" she railed. "Girls are supposed to understand these things."

I beat the air ineffectually with my fists.

"Words count, Angelina," I responded, more measured. "I am not a mind-reader, as much as I try to be. Susan didn't say the words and look what happened to us. Then again, she probably didn't feel them in the first place."

Déjà vu.

Angie came off her chair, wiping away her tears. She took my hand and helped me to my feet, then wrapped her arms around me tightly and put her face right in front of mine.

"I feel them," she sniffed, "and I'll say them. I love you. I want you. I need you, as much as the air I breathe. You are my life. What do you have to say to that?"

I was honest to a fault.

"Words fail me."

She tilted her head slightly to one side and leaned closer.

"Good answer," she softly sighed, parting her lips. "Fuck Dick's. Let's cut to the chase."

***

Angie and I spent all Saturday morning and early afternoon in a Hispanic salon on the Northwest side. My work took a lot longer than hers. My already-bleached hair was long enough now; she mandated it was time for extensions. By the time the stylist was finished, my hair was just as long and curly as my wig had been. Although our colors contrasted like night and day, our styles complimented, as did our makeup and nails.

"I could have done you myself," my lover assured me confidently, "but I had to get ready, too. Besides, it's a lot more fun to watch you get done up for me this way. My panties are drenched."

We met Paul and Kitty at their booth in the mezzanine-level vendors' area at the Hilton on South Michigan Avenue. As we came up the escalator, Angie and I both gaped at the far-flung assemblage of fetish apparel and gear; booth upon booth, row upon row, extending throughout the mezzanine and into the ballroom where the pageant would be held. He escorted us towards the backstage area while Kitty took charge of the booth.

As we traversed the vendor area, there was a seemingly-endless array of leather and rubber clothing, shoes and boots, whips, paddles, chains, restraints, dildoes, butt plugs, vibrators, bondage furniture, even medieval-style iron cages, up to and including an honest-to-goodness 'iron maiden' – minus the spikes. Paul's was not the only booth featuring corsets, but as far as I was concerned, it might as well have been. All of it was brand-new and for sale. The vendors were mostly fresh-faced, intelligent, superbly knowledgeable about their craft, wares and the market they served – and as matter-of-fact and enthusiastic about it all as though they were vending hot dogs and soda from a curbside cart. Angie and I stared at each other and shook our heads sadly - wondering what we had been missing in our lives all this time.

"And this is all for the boys?" I questioned Paul, fingering an exquisitely-tooled pair of black patent thigh boots with wicked six-inch stiletto heels.

"Hardly," he chuckled. "Look around you. You are not the only women here; just the sexiest."

"Don't you dare let Kitty hear you say that," I teased. "She'll have you trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey all night!"

"Promises, promises," he sighed.

Dianna was already backstage, applying her makeup. I had dreaded this moment for months; the two women I adored, coming face-to-face. How was I going to get past this moment? How would I be able to look either in the eye again?

"Hi Dianna!" Angie beckoned, hugging the beautiful brunette and bussing her lightly on the cheek.

"Hi Angie!" Dianna returned, a warm smile on her lips. "How's our girlfriend? Let me take a look."

Posing for her was not a problem; I was rooted to the floor in shock. The sensual shemale examined my makeup and nails, then my hair.

"Nice work," she commented appreciatively to the Latina. "That 'do is fabulous. You, or your daddy?"

Angie shook her head.

"Lupe did it. Papá was busy setting up his booth. He'll stop by after the vendors' area closes."

I must have looked really stupid standing there, eyeing the two apparently old friends back and forth. Angie slipped her arm through mine and patted the back of my hand with her other hand.

"It's okay, Sweetie," she chirped. "I've known Dianna forever. I grew up in the scene – kinda like an 'army brat'. That's how I got my taste for gorgeous T-girls. Isn't that right, Dianna?"

It was Dianna's turn to kiss Angie on the cheek.

"Until a few months ago," she purred, "I would have said I've never had anyone as good."

Angie beamed.

"I know exactly what you mean, Girlfriend!"

Scene... hair... daddy....

"Angelo!" I groaned, holding my face in my hands and shaking my head.

Both gorgeous girls broke out in laughter.

"There's hope for you yet, Mija," Angie giggled. "Maybe you're not such a 'man' after all – although a girl would have grasped the obvious a lot sooner."

She turned to Dianna.

"Is... everything ready for tonight?"

Dianna winked and smiled.

"Everything."

"I can't wait," Angie gushed.

Can I sit down now? I'm feeling faint....

There were three large trunks under our portion of the makeup table. Each bore the name of one of Paul's three models. Dianna's was already open at her feet. Angie and I each retrieved our own, then began donning our first costume change. The show was to begin at five and extend ninety or so minutes, featuring the three of us, plus models from other vendors. There were so many vendors and models, each of us would have four passes down the runway in four different outfits. Dianna was doing a special solo finale to close the show. The final competition to crown the next Mr. Gay Leather would commence at seven. 

I peeked out through the curtain at the edge of the stage. Lance and Susan were seated at the end of the catwalk. They were the special guest M.C.s who would announce the models, the outfits they wore, and the vendors they represented. Their presence had guaranteed press coverage, plus a camera crew from the local independent television station that televised the team's games. Gee, no pressure there. If this was, indeed, the time they had selected to destroy me, they would do so in print and on the ten o'clock news - for everyone in metropolitan Chicagoland to see.




Betrayed Ch. 10



Sipping piña coladas in Fat Tuesdays on Duval Street, clad only in a skimpy string bikini and high-heeled sandals, would be just as good as the charter-boat thing, wouldn't it?

It was daunting to stand backstage and listen to the applause the first models were receiving. The butterflies in my stomach had metamorphosed into vultures who were thumping away with their wings and picking me apart at the same time. I received my cue and hit the runway in white calfskin corset, collar, and forearm-length gauntlets with black patent trim, matched with white calfskin lace-up thigh boots with black patent scrollwork overlays and five-inch stiletto heels. Dianna had coached me on 'Attitude' and I had it to burn. Look at me wrong and I'll bite it off at the root!

Angie was right behind me in a purple calfskin corset mini-dress with matching platform sandals. Dianna followed Angie in a red patent corset combination like mine, with coordinating thigh boots. The applause from the previous models had continued to wane as I took the stage. By the time all three of us were on catwalk – just a second or two - the only sound was the music pounding from the loudspeakers. The seconds seemed like hours. I could tell Susan remembered me from the previous weekend. She looked none too pleased to see me again. I couldn't detect so much as a glint of anything else, but you never knew with Susan.... It was the silence of everyone else that was really damning. 

Code Blue! Code Blue! Get the crash cart. Charge paddles to three hundred. I need one cee-cee of Eppie, push.

Then I looked at the faces. I don't think I had ever seen so many bulging eyes and gaping mouths in one place. The applause began – and swelled to thundering proportions, overwhelming the sound system and causing the massive central chandelier to rattle. I had already made my turn and passed Dianna on my way towards backstage. She winked at me.

Oh, yeah, Baby; JUMP-START that heart!

The applause came quicker and louder with each successive pass down the runway. That did wonders for my self-confidence.

Gee, if the commodities thing doesn't work out....

I heard the heated exchange between the third and fourth costume changes. It was coming from the wings on the far side of the stage. I crept around the back side and approached the two angry voices; one male, the other female.

"Damn it, you said you would have him here," the angry male challenged. "I swear, if you cross me on this, I'll make you wish you had never been born – in either gender!"

"He is here," the female spat. "I have him chillin' 'til the finale. He doesn't suspect a thing. Believe me; no one will ever forget it - just like you wanted it."

"Yeah? Then where is he? Show me, or I'll...."

I hurried around the corner and grabbed Dianna's arm. Jeff had an empty rocks glass raised in the air, poised over Dianna's head. It was heavy enough to deliver a crushing blow to her skull. Then again, if it shattered as he hit her....

"Sweetie," I urged, "we have to get you changed for the next set. Hurry up now. Hi Jeff! Nice to see you again."

"Lisa, WAIT!" he barked. "We need to talk...."

"We'll hook up after the show, 'kay?" I cooed. "Right now, I've gotta get my girlfriend here ready for our next pass down the runway. See you!"

I hurried Dianna backstage before either one could utter another word. She pulled me up short and spun me around. I could tell she was about to 'read' me about something. Whatever it was, I just didn't have the stomach to listen to it right then. I placed an index finger to her lips and patted it a couple of times, partly to shush her and partly to buy a moment or two while I collected my thoughts. Finally, I spoke.

"Just... do what ya gotta do, okay?" I muttered resignedly. "I don't want you to explain it to me; just do it. Whatever it is, it isn't worth you getting hurt for. That would hurt me more than anything else. I swear to God, if he does hurt you, I will personally hunt the sonofabitch down and kill him. I don't care what you say."

Dianna's eyes welled with tears. She gently stroked my cheek and brushed my lips with hers.

"I love you." She murmured, then turned and ran back to the dressing room.

We had altered the order of our appearance with each pass down the runway. On our final appearance, Dianna led off in a leopard-print calfskin bustier-style corset with matching thong, collar, armpit-length gloves and stiletto-heeled thigh boots. Angie followed in a deeply-plunging shocking pink patent bustier-style corset minidress with sheer black seamed stockings, perched atop shocking pink patent platform sandals with six-and-a-half-inch heels. I brought up the rear in the ankle-length hobble version of that style, in black patent with red patent flame appliqués. The bodice plunged so deeply, if I inhaled too much, my nipples would pop right out of the top. That wouldn't be a problem; I was cinched down to nineteen inches and could barely draw a breath. As I minced my way down the catwalk in my six-and-a-half-inch red patent stiletto stilts, I was getting light-headed from lack of oxygen. I couldn't hear the music over the thunderous roar of the crowd. We held hands with Paul in our middle and took a bow, then made our way backstage.

"Hurry up, Dianna," Paul urged. "You have to get changed and onstage for the wedding number."

"Chill," Dianna reassured him. "I've got it under control. You go out front and enjoy it with Kitty. We'll take care of everything back here, 'kay?"

Dianna hustled him off. I was leaning against a post. Black spots were dancing in my vision. Angie detected my distress.

"You poor thing!" she cooed. That dress must be a killer. Here, let me help you sit down by the makeup table. I don't know about you, but I'm parched. Dianna, let's get us all something to drink."

Sure; just sit down. Easier said than done in that dress; it didn't bend much, if at all. I was more or less perched on the edge of the chair, unable to stand up or move around much. I became aware of a cell phone chiming insistently, inside my purse. It was Lance's phone. As I answered, I noticed there were about a dozen missed incoming calls.

"Are you all right?" my lawyer exclaimed. "I've been trying to reach you for almost two hours. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I assured him, "everything is fine."

"You sound funny," he observed. "Winded. Kinda high-pitched, too."

"I, uh, just ran a marathon," I replied. "I'm still trying to catch my breath."

"Are you someplace really public? Like, a lot of people?"

"Yeah," I responded warily. "Why?"

"Listen to me very carefully," the lawyer intoned slowly. "Go home. Lock the door. Stay there – alone. The investigator intercepted a call earlier between Jeff Spencer and his contact. She told him everything was ready to go, just as they had planned it. Lance, she told him she's scored a hit of GHB. They are planning on drugging you, then doing who knows what. Don't eat or drink anything! Got it?"

Angie and Dianna were returning at that moment. Angie carried two champagne flutes; Dianna, one. My eyes darted back and forth between the two, not believing what they were seeing.

"I gotta go," I told him. "I'll call you later."

I hung up, flipped the lid closed and slipped it back into my purse. Angie handed me a flute. I accepted it cautiously, as though handling a snake. She raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"Anything important?" she inquired musically, glancing toward my just-stowed cell phone.

"Not anymore," I replied wearily.

I felt utterly defeated. Both my lovers smiled at me disarmingly. Angie raised her glass.

"Well, what shall we drink to?"

I drew a blank. I don't think anyone in history has raised their glass and pronounced: "Here's to Treason!" I had no intention of being the first. At that point, I really didn't give a shit. I just shrugged my shoulders a bit – and chugged the glass. Hmmm; Mőet White Star, Extra Dry. Well, if ya gotta go.... I idly wondered: what was the current market value, in U.S. dollars, of thirty pieces of silver - split two ways?

I felt really spaced out, detached, like I didn't have a care in the world. Dianna was more beautiful than I had ever seen her before. She was dressed in a black tuxedo waistcoat with tails, black satin bow tie, and old-fashioned top hat, over a severely-cinched black patent corset, black fishnet stockings and black patent ankle-strap platform sandals. The 'bride' was bent over a bondage 'horse' before her, wrists and ankles securely locked, legs spread invitingly. The wedding dress didn't fit all that well; I think it was intended to look cheap, trashy. Then again, the bottom half was flipped up over the back anyway, so what difference did the fit make? I'm certain the garishly-applied makeup didn't soften the image at all, either. The expression on Dianna's face was so serene, as though she was realizing the culmination of her greatest wish. I was so accustomed to the feel of her eight-inch clit inside me, I could clearly visualize every millimeter sliding in and out of my eagerly-waiting love nest.  

The curtain came up to the strains of Billy Idol's White Wedding. Dianna consummated her 'marriage' with impassioned fury, driving in and out – amid the roar of the predominantly gay-male crowd. I happened to catch Susan's face amid all those others. She was recoiling with a look of horror and disgust. Funny; I thought she would be relishing this moment of ultimate triumph. Jeff Spencer was certainly eating it up. The look of sheer joy on his face told me he was loving every thrust. His massive twelve-inch bionic boner jutted out proudly, angled down between the legs of the horse - as Dianna plunged into his ass again and again. She was certainly enjoying giving it to him. I cherished the memory of her in me – and was more than a little envious.

The curtain came down as the music faded. Chantal and Mimi hurried onstage from the opposite wing, disengaged their friend and hurried her off in the direction from which they had come. Angie clung to me, holding me up, both of us out of sight in the near wing. I was, once again, dressed in that lovely lavender suede suit and mules that I loved so much. If anything, Angie's white suit looked better on her now than it had that Monday afternoon three months before.

"Baby," she cooed in my ear, "the girls are gonna get Dianna out of here. We have to go, too – right now."

We slipped out the side door and into the mezzanine proper as the pandemonium exploded around us. Hotel security and Chicago PD were running in every direction, searching for the fleeing, scantily-clad 'models'. So, too, were the photographers and camera crew who had to make their deadlines. Hell, with a scoop like this, their editors and producers would hold everything! Meanwhile, two young, attractive – if somewhat provocatively made-up - professional women slowly made their way toward the Michigan Avenue entrance. One had obviously had a little too much to drink.

***

I awoke to sunlight on my face. It was streaming in through the east-facing windows of my bedroom, overlooking Ogden Slip. Angie lay next to me, her head propped up on her arm. She gazed down at my awakening form, smiling so serenely.

"Good morning, Mi Corazón," she murmured. "Do you feel okay? No ill effects, I trust?"

"I wouldn't be tossing the word 'trust' around so casually right now," I replied groggily.

Suddenly, the memory of the previous night flashed into my head.

"Dianna...." I exclaimed, sitting bolt-upright in bed.

Angie stayed my moving body with a gentle hand to my chest.

"Safely out of town," she admonished, then added: "We had to. Every cop and sports fan in the city is gunning for her right now. This is WAY worse than Hugh Grant and Divine Brown."

I stared down at the blankets, puzzled. I remembered everything so vividly – but I thought, with GHB.... Angie shook her head, reading my thoughts.

"Valium," she corrected. "Not enough to knock you out immediately. Just enough to make you... tractable – so I could get you to the car without you making a fuss. I'm sorry. After that stink you raised about Jeff Spencer beating Dianna, and what you were going to do about it, we couldn't risk you doing something impossibly noble like you always do – and getting hurt really bad. We were trying to avoid that. That is what this whole thing has been about from the beginning. For the record, Jeff got the GHB in his drink. I don't think he will remember a thing – at least, not until he has to take a shit."

I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and rocked. Angie put her arms around me.

"You deserve to know everything, from the beginning," Angie purred soothingly into my ear. "Dianna told me some parts I didn't already know. Some of the rest is guesswork, but I think it's pretty close. That Friday night at Ringers when you first met Dianna probably would have been your first, last, and only time together. As she put it, you were just another 'freak' to her then. She had a good laugh at the way you stormed out of her place afterward.

"Jeff Spencer went to Ringers that night, too – looking to score with her. Susan had been ranting in his ear all week about how you had left her high and dry – as though you owed her and her lover a life. He needed a good lay without having to listen to her whining. He spotted you and Dianna leaving the club – and recognized you immediately. 

"He confronted her the next night and fed her some line about you having fucked him over on some deal or another. He told her he would make it worth her while to 'play' you. He wanted her to get in good with you, get you to dress up in girly clothes, then get pictures of you being fucked in drag by Dianna. She was okay with it at the time. To her, it was just making a little extra money from one freak fucking over another. Once they got that 'dirt' on you, Jeff and Susan would then be able to blackmail you into dropping the divorce and go on as before – with them shacking up whenever they felt like it and you supporting them financially. Just to make sure you were 'on board' with their little scheme, he was planning to beat the shit out of you after he took the pictures."

"Susan knew?" I growled angrily.

Angie nodded.

"That's what he told Dianna," she confided. "Actually, I think she knew what Jeff wanted her to know. At that point, he would have had a hard time explaining how he knew Dianna was a T-girl without casting suspicion on himself. Most likely, he told her he had seen you out with another woman, and that it looked to him like it had been going on for some time. When she saw you and Dianna outside Morton's – and saw how beautiful Dianna was and how lavishly you had obviously pampered her – Susan was ready to believe you had been cheating on her longer than she had been cheating on you. She was insanely jealous! Dianna told me she felt on top of the world when Jeff told her that. As possessive as Susan is, I can't imagine her just giving up without a fight on a more personal level. Did I miss something?"

I told Angie about the incident in front of the office that Monday morning. She pursed her lips, smiled, and shook her head in amazement.

"As much as I hate the bitch," she murmured, "I'll give her this; she is a girl after my own heart. When she sees something she wants, she goes out and gets it. She never followed up?"

I shook my head. Angie nodded gazing speculatively into the distance. Then, she re-focused on me.

Again, this part is guesswork on my part. That's probably the time Jeff dropped The Bomb. Maybe he told her he had had Dianna followed and found out she was a shemale. Discovering she had lost you to a 'man' would push a woman like Susan right over the edge. She would have agreed to anything Jeff planned from that moment on. That's why I really despise the cunt. She sat back, kept her nose clean, and let Jeff do all the dirty work. I'll bet she didn't even want to know the details - as long as he got the job done."

"I didn't sense that Dianna was on board with all this," I pointed out. "Did I misread her that completely?"

Angie rested her hand on my cheek and shook her head.

"My dear, sweet Baby," she intoned. "You have no idea the kind of effect you have on a woman – especially after she experiences men like Jeff Spencer. He made her call you that Friday and set up the date that night, to start the scam rolling. After that magical Valentine's Day weekend, Dianna was ready to give up The Life completely and camp out on your doorstep. I would have, too. Apparently, you also set her straight on what the real situation was between you, Susan, and Jeff. True?"  

I nodded my head in agreement.

"The next time Jeff contacted her, she told him he could keep his money and his bionic dick; that she was keeping you," Angie resumed. "That's when things started to get really nasty. It wasn't enough that he slapped her around. It wasn't his first time by any means – nor his last...."

Angie gazed off towards a corner of the room again, marshalling her thoughts.

"Sweetie," she continued. "Girls like Dianna have to do... stuff to survive; illegal stuff. They can't get regular jobs; no one will hire them. Jeff knew about a public-assistance scam Dianna had run; not 'Welfare Cadillac' level, but serious. He could have dropped a dime and gotten her sent to prison – in her case, a men's prison. Do you have any idea what it means to a T-girl to have her hair shaved off and have to live as a man – and be the communal fuck toy?" 

I shivered.

"I think I have a pretty good handle on it now," I admitted.

"Poor Dianna," Angie lamented. "She was in an impossible situation; torn between her love for you and her fear of a fate worse than death. At that time, she knew nothing of the kind of connections and clout you had. She perceived Jeff as being the stronger of the two – and that he could wipe the floor with you. She wasn't about to let that happen. She did the only thing she knew how to do."

"What was that?"

"She knew she couldn't protect you in your and Jeff's world – as a 'man in a dress.' So she had to bring you into her world – all the way in. That was one place where she made the rules and called all the shots. She told Jeff about the fashion show, and how it would be the perfect time to set you up. He agreed; he loved the public humiliation aspect. That bought her some time to carry out her plan. 

"He had to have told Susan. She would have been the one to set up the publicity appearance and make certain the photographers and television crew were on hand. Oh, how they must have been looking forward to destroying you publicly! Of course, all that time they were expecting to see a man in a dress. I don't think either one had any idea you could be so totally transformed, and be so convincing as a woman. Dianna knew – and knew it was her only way to save both of you from them."

"I can't believe your involvement in this was all a coincidence," I stated flatly.

Angie blushed, staring down.

"It wasn't," she admitted. "I knew almost from the start. Remember I told you I grew up in the scene? I had blown off my date for Valentine's Day – he kept me waiting once too often. I went to Ringers to catch the show and chat with some of my girlfriends. I watched 'Lance' and Dianna go into the dressing room – and you and Dianna come out. Only someone who had been in the scene for a while would have recognized you and 'Lance' were the same person. Then again, I had fantasized about you en femme for so long.... Oh, God; I wanted you so badly at that moment I almost came on the spot! Then, when you went outside – and that guy followed you – I was insanely jealous."




Betrayed Ch. 10



"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed. "You acted completely surprised that Monday afternoon when I indicated I wasn't a 'cherry' anymore."

Angie winked and beamed a smile my way.

"I sure did, didn't I?" she cooed. "Pretty convincing, too, if I do say so myself. Anyway, while you were gone on your 'date', I sidled over to Dianna and complimented her on her new 'girlfriend'. She gushed about you, went on and on about the day the two of you had had, how you had spoiled her, how she was falling in love with you, and that she was going to transform you totally. She didn't tell me anything about the plot that night. She was stunned when I told her you were my boss. I offered to help in your transformation and she couldn't have said 'YES!' any faster.

"You didn't tell her about your personal interest in me, did you?" I inquired.

Angie shook her head slowly.

"It was wrong of me; I know," she spoke ruefully. "I had wanted you so long. Then, seeing you as 'Lisa' – something I had been craving all that time.... No honor among thieves, huh?"

I just shrugged my shoulders a little bit.

"Later," Angie continued, "after she had had it out with Jeff and he had begun blackmailing her, she saw the whole thing coming apart. She knew she was going to need a lot of help – and she confided everything to me. Of course I told her she could count on me. I don't know at what point she suspected my motives were about more than my friendship with her. A girl just knows, Mi Amor. I think by that time she had begun to believe no matter how much she loved you, she wouldn't be able to keep you. You were too deeply entrenched in your world – a world in which she felt she was an outcast. To her credit, she didn't begrudge me winning you. Yesterday, she told me if she couldn't have you, she didn't want you in anyone else's arms than mine."

Tears were streaming down Angie's face.

"Did you say to her," she sniffed, "something to the effect that you 'would give it all up, everything, to keep her safe'?"

I stared at the sheets and nodded. Tears were welling up in my eyes, too.

"Baby," Angie cried, "Dianna asked me to remind you of that. That is exactly what she did; she gave everything up – including you – to keep you safe. She said it wasn't much, compared to what you had done, given, and meant to her, but it was the best she had to offer. 

"Mi Amor, please don't hate me for what I am about to say. I have never seen anyone sacrifice herself so selflessly for someone else as Dianna did for you. I love her like my own flesh and blood for doing it – but I'm not sorry she's gone. I have wanted you for my own for so damn long. Now that I've got you... damn it, I know I love you every bit as much, if not more. I just pray to God I never have to prove it that way!"

Angie clutched me tightly, her body wracked with sobs. That made two of us.

***

No official mention was made by the team of the incident at the Mr. Gay Leather Pageant; nor did any account find its way onto the local news. It was announced Jeff Spencer was going into rehab for a dependency on painkillers and would probably miss training camp. Of course, it was all over the Gay community, which meant it was all over the city. The switchboards at the local radio sports and talk shows were lit up like Christmas trees for weeks. Later, it would be announced that, with regret, the team was dropping Jeff Spencer's contract – presumably, over the 'morals' clause.

After that public relations debacle, Susan left the team's front office, and Chicago, "by mutual consent". I guess publicity people are like baseball managers, too; she signed on with the Miami organization within a week. I suspect the deal had been done before she even packed her bags. Miami had an up-and-coming QB prospect whom they believed to be another Dan Marino. Jake Prescott, three years out of USC, had it all; the size of Bobby Douglass, the stamina of a racehorse, the eye of an eagle, and a rifle for an arm. All the sportswriters were touting him as The Next Big Thing. Knowing Susan, he already was.

A few months later, there was a small article on Page Three of the Tribune. Des Moines police were investigating the shooting death of Jeffrey Glenn Spencer, former football star and Chicago sports legend, whose body was found in his room in a transient hotel in downtown Des Moines. Spencer had been attempting a comeback with the Des Moines Demons of the fledgling Continental Football Association. Autopsy results would be forthcoming, a police spokesman announced, but a preliminary Coroner's investigation indicated the fatal wound may have been self-inflicted....

Angie and I found that boat we liked. We accosted its owner, too – in the office next door to mine. Rob hadn't had any idea he was going to buy a boat until Angie and I slinked into his office and closed the door. She perched on the edge of his desk. I slipped into his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck, and fed him the pitch exactly as Angie had presented it to me. Well, not exactly the same way. So, the firm came into possession of a 'company yacht' (nothing like Bill Wirtz's Blackhawk, but nice enough to cruise the lake and small enough to tie up in Ogden Slip). Rob and Jim had a blast weekends, hobnobbing with the other Boat People. Angie and I kept up our end(s) of the bargain, getting fabulous tans on deck and making our bosses look really good in the process.

I didn't need Angie to tell me where Dianna went. Armed with the Internet and her Social Security Number – plus the suspicion her trip to L.A. had not been a coincidence – I tracked her down in West Hollywood. Angie was not thrilled with my proposed trip, but acquiesced. She knew I needed closure. She also made me promise faithfully I would come home to her before making any lasting decisions.

I found her sitting on a stool at the bar in Club 7969 on Santa Monica Boulevard. I didn't think the place was anywhere near as nice as Ringers, but it had a function and served it. God, she still looked good! It was as if time stood still for both of us. We spent a long weekend in bed together, just as it had been before; concentrating on the here and now, not externals – or the past. Before I left her, I made sure I set her up – with a trust fund, two-bedroom condo, and car of her own. I wanted her to understand she could be anything she wanted to be – and not dependent on anyone or anything to achieve it. This time, I made sure I had her cell phone number, too. When she dropped me off at LAX, we just kept touching each other, not wanting to break the magic of the moment. The feeling was still strong, and has been every time I've called.

I still have my life and job in Chicago. I won't deny Angie keeps me happy. There are a million things, big and small, I love about her. She isn't afraid to tell me how much she loves me, either. STG and I have made the firm phenomenally successful; a 'name brand', both on LaSalle Street and worldwide. I've made a ton of money for myself, too. Angie and I socialize publicly (and intimately) with Rob and Jim, but still reserve that special, very private relationship for each other. We have not gotten married and probably won't while we both still work for the firm. We need to keep up appearances at the office; such a union would lead to some really embarrassing questions we wish to avoid. If we are being less than honest with our co-workers, I hope we are at least being honest with each other. Sometimes, I have my doubts.

When she wants me that way, the Little Blue Pill is there to help. Yes, it works for 'pickled' T-girls just as well as sixty-year-old would-be Lotharios. She has jokingly suggested perhaps I should get an implant, too. Then again, she has also suggested I go the other way entirely - and not in a joking way. I admit that thought has a definite appeal, but what would that mean to us? 

Rob is happy with the status quo but I don't think Jim is. My instincts tell me he wants more from Angie. Angie hasn't voiced any desire to change a thing, but she does enjoy our little foursomes a lot. Sometimes, when I see the way they look at each other.... Rob looks at me the same way and Angie doesn't object – but then, why would she? Lately, she and I have been 'honeymooning in Viagra Falls' less and less. There I go, being a 'man' again. We don't need to, Silly – do we?

Should I have The Talk with her? Do I need to? For someone who has placed such high stock in the value of words, why am I afraid to ask them? Am I more afraid of the answers? Why does my life have to be so damn complicated? Then again, maybe it doesn't.

There were times, very late at night, when I stood on our balcony, gazing down at Ogden Slip and the lake beyond while Angie slumbered peacefully in our bed. I imagined myself on the sun deck at Fat Tuesdays on Duval Street, clad in my string bikini and heels, sipping a piña colada and listening to island music. The sun shown brightly, the air was hot, and everyone was looking forward to the rain shower that would descend from the heavens at five PM, as it always did. I could see in my mind the old movie theater a bit farther down the street, where they now do drag shows. Then I pictured those mesmerizing brown eyes and wondered if that kind of life would appeal to her. Would she be willing to do it again; give it all up, everything, to keep me safe, secure, and happy in her embrace? Would I? As the lawyers say: "asked and answered" – at least, in my own mind. I ached for her then. I still do.

Just let go - and see where the current takes you.

***

Special thanks to Matt Jones for his timely contributions on Chicago lore, past and present.

My sincerest appreciation to my legion of knowledgeable fans who had enough faith in me to refrain from sniping at the unfolding plot until the fat lady sang.