Chapter 6 Silas
Silas
Isat in marital therapy with my cock cage on, listening to my janitor give me advice on how to rekindle my romance.
“Little gifts during the year,” Mr. MacDonald said ponderously, blowing out on his moustache and putting his boots up on my Governor’s desk, “can help keep the spark alive.”
Paloma sat beside me with a little upturned smirk on her full lips.
My god, I’d met my match this time.
When I presented her with the city’s most renowned and decorated therapeutic counselor, she declined and insisted on only Mr. MacDonald, who wasn’t even a real psychologist!
Daring me to agree to a therapy session with him.
Before Paloma, I had thought of myself as somewhat of a strategic genius.
Who dared to stand against me? Who dared to challenge my iron will?
I was always two steps ahead of my opponents, faster, stronger, smarter, more ruthless.
I couldn’t say that anymore.
This was the hardest challenge of my life, and I was sweating like a pig at the fair and working like a dog, literally, to be running behind her devious brain at every turn.
This morning she’d called multiple news stations and told them, in total confidentiality of course, that she had it on good authority the Governor and his wife were done, that their marriage was in shambles, that Mrs. Di Pietro was looking for male companionship.
Ensuring my messy sex scandals would stay in the headlines for the entire foreseeable future.
She wanted me to agree to a divorce. And although I was the political dealmaker king, I couldn’t think of a single deal to offer her. I had always been enough before—access to me, proximity to me, my money or my cock, had always been enough to get what I wanted before.
My wife didn’t want any of that.
So what could I offer her?
I’d given her best friend Rowan a job as the Acting Head of the Cultural Affairs Department.
I’d begged on my knees for another chance.
I’d sworn to turn over a new leaf. I had deleted Whitleigh’s number, said nothing when she slunk out of the Capitol Building with her things in a box.
Swore to my wife the other woman had meant nothing to me. Because it was true.
But Paloma didn’t want anything as much as she wanted $5 million dollars.
And it was relatable as hell. Because that’s exactly how I was. Ruthless, possessive, stubborn and hard headed, willing to do anything to get what I wanted.
Only what I was willing to give anything up to get was her.
We were soul mates! If she’d only agree. Now I had to figure out how to convince her.
Mr. MacDonald opened a tin of pickled herring.
“Now let’s do a common marital exercise. Tell each other your deepest, darkest secrets.”
I slid him an envelope before the therapy session with $5000 dollars in it to go easy on me, and this is what he came up with?
“Er–” I said, remembering the scenes from a few days ago. My cheeks burned thinking about how I’d behaved for my wife.
I’d crawled on my knees and barked like a dog. Me, Silas Di Pietro, who never bowed to anyone, never backed down.
I’d licked a fucking dog bowl for her.
My cock twitched, swelling against the confining walls of my plastic cock cage, and I tried to adjust my position to get a better angle, but there wasn’t a better angle.
It was designed to keep my cock flaccid, but every time I got close to Paloma my cock burned as it desperately tried to dig out of the cock cage.
And the even more embarrassing thing was that I’d done all of it and she still didn’t give a shit.
The shameful memory of how I’d given my fucking all to pleasure her, working my wife’s sweet little cunt like my life depended on it, and she hadn’t made one damn sound, let me suck desperately on her clit, the sweet juices running down my chin, and then she had a, what, fucking pity orgasm?
I’d been too busy thinking I was such a saint for not fucking around on her that I hadn’t bothered to figure out what she liked best, what made her moan.
How could I offer her my heart if she didn’t even believe I had one?
In politics, the number one rule was not to show any weakness. But I was about to go belly-up for this woman.
“The truth is I married you for the wrong reasons,” I said to Paloma, panic clawing in my chest. “I thought of nothing else besides the fact that you were beautiful and innocent and. . .good for my campaign. The perfect Governor’s wife. That you’d never give me any trouble.”
“Sexist bastard!” Rowan’s voice came amplified through the air ducts from their office down the hall.
Damn, apparently they were listening in. But it didn’t matter. I had to take it on the chin.
“You were wrong about that, weren’t you?” Paloma said angelically.
“That was why I cheated. I was—I put you on this perfect high pedestal, and in my mind dirty sex wasn’t something you did with your wife.”
“Was it the spankings you enjoyed the most or the thrill you got from cheating?” Mr. MacDonald asked, slurping a pickled herring into his mouth.
“The thrill,” I said. “I don’t give a fuck about spanking. I can get a thrill by skydiving.”
“And you?” Mr. MacDonald asked Paloma.
She slid her eyes over to me, biting down on her tongue with those perfect white teeth.
My cock pressed painfully against the cock cage again, so painfully swollen against the insides that I heard the plastic crack with pressure as precum began to fill the tight space. My own cock was drowning in this torture.
Paloma bent closer, one hand on my shoulder, and I tried to control my breathing, keep myself from whimpering at her proximity.
Now that she wasn’t wearing lavender and ylang-ylang, I could smell her real scent, a hint of something spicy, but it was just her skin, mouthwateringly sexy and fresh and erotic.
“My dark secret, Silas, is I set you up. I knew you were cheating. You weren’t exactly subtle, you know, asshole. I alerted the paparazzi. I was the one who sent you into a panicky spiral, I was the one who got you to confess. All so I could get you right where I wanted you.”
Her words were like a wicked purr in my ear as shards of frozen panic snapped my spine.
“I’ve got your balls in a vise, Silas. Give me the money.”
The threat in her words had me so hard my cock was gagging, drowning in the cage, every inch bursting to get free and claim her as mine.
“But I want you,” I whispered.
With no place else to go, precum had now started to seep up my belly, rubbing wetly under my belt.
“You know what you’ve done,” Mr. MacDonald harrumphed. “I’d advise against getting back with him, Mrs. Di Pietro.”
I choked down my rage.
“Let’s go, Paloma.”
She had a smile on her face as we left.
“Nice bribe you gave him,” she murmured. “Too bad I matched and exceeded it.”
My cock was roaring like a caged animal now.
“You want to ruin me,” I growled in her ear, running fingers down to where I knew that naughty little tramp stamp was. . . “so do it.”
We exited the office. . .right into an ambush of reporters, all with their microphones in my face and demanding answers.
“Mr. Di Pietro, do you have any comment on the affair? How long has it been going on?”
By all the rules of politics, I should have said “no comment” and kept it moving.
But I couldn’t.
“It’s all over now. It never meant anything to me in the first place.”
“Mrs. Di Pietro, do you plan to forgive your husband? Do you plan to stand by him during the scandal? There’s talk in the Legislature of impeachment.”
And Paloma looked coolly at me, waiting until all the cameras were on her, all the microphones waiting for her statement, her big blue eyes, long lashes, and cherubic pink cheeks looking angelic in the bright lights.
“No,” she said.
It was like a parody of all those cheating politician’s news conferences. Their poor unfortunate wives would come out, looking miserable and grim, but vowing to stand with their man.
And the furor would slowly die down and the public move on to the next scandal, while the politician would make it through, most of the time.
Meanwhile the wives stayed, resentful and bitter. That wasn’t going to be us.
There was only one move I had, and I made it without hesitation.
I was ruthless, I was cold, and there was nothing I wouldn’t throw aside to get a second chance with my wife.
“As of today I am resigning from my position as Governor,” I said, as the cameras clicked furiously, and gasps of shock reverberated around the hallway. “This is to give me time to repair my relationship with my wife. She’s the most important thing in the world to me.”
Her blue eyes narrowed in irritation, and blood pumped into my every extremity, the cock cage stabbing my swollen dick in a thousand places.
“I told you to ruin me and I meant it,” I growled in her ear as I pulled her away. “Take me. Use me.”
Her neck looked so delectable, elegant and soft, right in front of me, and I kissed her passionately, moaning at the taste of her flesh.
“Watch what you wish for, Silas,” she said coldly. “You may regret that.”