Chapter 7 Silas
Silas
Music at the sex club was loud, the beat pulsing through my skull as my wife wound her way confidently through the crowd.
“Beginner,” I had to say, swallowing hard in embarrassment.
I couldn't believe I had ever fancied myself a sex god or a Dom or both. Everything I saw shocked me. Spider play? Group orgies? A man in an executioner’s mask giving a woman dressed in a Regency ballgown a golden shower?
In reality I didn’t know shit beyond my wife.
And the way everyone here greeted her was extremely humbling. With a mask on, no one knew who I was. No one gave a fuck.
But everyone knew Paloma. Everyone was excited to see her, begged for some time with her, promised her endless carnal favors if she’d only give them thirty minutes, ten minutes, five minutes.
And I was the most desperate out of all of them to get time with her. I was all in with this woman.
Every single calculating plot, every greedy little stratagem of hers, only made me hornier.
I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted another woman in my life. More than I had thought it was possible to want a woman.
So this is what it was like to be in love.
I considered the idea like something I’d never encountered before.
Women were either wives or whores, weren’t they? Except with Paloma it didn’t matter. I wanted her in any way I could get her. And the worse she behaved, the more I wanted her.
The sex club was in the industrial district, an abandoned bread factory that still smelled redolent with old yeast and honey.
The concrete-walled rooms were full of couples engaged in different kinks, and we passed by one where a man was dressed as a giant worm and a woman had her stiletto on his throat as she whipped his ass with a paddle.
What exactly was Paloma going to want to do here?
I followed her through rooms of writhing, sweating, fucking bodies, as she greeted all her sex club friends and I wandered behind like a total loser.
But I couldn’t help drawing close to her, the way I could have followed her scent through a packed room, tracked it all the way between her legs because I wanted her so badly.
We weren’t allowed to touch without asking permission, so I got as close as I dared to her as she paused at a railing on the second floor.
“You win,” I growled, caging her in as much as I dared. “You’re the Alpha Dom. Not me.”
She tossed her messy curls, flinging them across my face and sending her intoxicating scent deep into my lungs.
“And?”
“And I think underneath all our bullshit, you feel it, too.”
“Feel what? Your old man boner in my ass?”
“Our connection,” I growled. “Under the bullshit and lies, you feel that thread that ties us together. You feel our hearts pounding in rhythm. That soulmate pull.”
“You getting romantic on me?” she hissed, snapping her ass back so it crashed into my already-thickening cock.
“It’s the truth. I think we could really be something. I think you could love me.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” my wife said, ducking under my arm and disappearing down a dark halfway.
I didn’t know what was back there.
I didn’t know what she had in mind.
I knew she wanted to outlast me, scare me away, prove I couldn’t keep up with her.
Not today, babe. Not ever.
I slapped my face hard, one cheek then the other.
And I followed Paloma into the darkness.
For a few moments it was totally pitch-black and I had to walk with my hands outstretched in front of me. Then her sharp, clever little voice cut across my disorientation.
“Right here.”
I turned eagerly, my hands groping for the door as she swung it open. The window for this room was covered with black velvet curtains, and you couldn’t see inside. I didn’t know if that made me more or less nervous.
She looked as pretty as a picture today, like always, her bouncy dress flouncing out around her, tiny little toes tucked into flip-flops.
“This is your chance to cut and run, Silas,” she said, and by the way her lips turned up, I knew she expected me to. “You’re not cut out for this.”
I set my jaw.
“I want to kiss you so badly,” I parried. “You’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”
The tight white dress with little blue flowers she had on was tied into a bow right over her tits, a mouthwatering sight right for my eyes to feast on.
Because unfortunately I doubted I was going to be feasting on anything else tonight.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m sure Ivor will appreciate it.”
Then she opened the door and walked in.
Right away I noticed it was decorated like an ancient Roman pleasure garden, with green leafy vines, little marble pools, and one wide purple velvet couch in the middle.
And then, in the corner. . .one chair. My chair.
The cuck chair.
Ivor turned out to be a massive, muscular Russian man with a shaved head and piercing blue eyes, but his hands were gentle as he hugged my wife.
“Nice to see you again, Paloma. You look absolutely ravishing as usual. Goddamn, I wish you didn’t have a policy against dating anyone at the club. So is this the cuck who is going to watch me make you come with my fat cock?”
“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. My palms were slick with sweat. “I’m—trying new things with my wife.”
“Sit down, then, cuck,” he said dismissively.
And I settled down on the hard chair, only relieved I didn’t have my cock cage on.
But at first I thought I was going to die as Ivor turned on some gentle romantic, classical music and began to undress my wife.
I was close enough to see, smell, and sense everything. Paloma’s floral shampoo floated over to me on a cloud of regret.
If only I’d taken the time to really know my wife, to see her as a whole person instead of a pristine saint, I might have learned about the vengeful, clever, fascinating creature she was before this.
Before she got fucked by another man in front of me.
Paloma held my eyes as he bent over her on the sofa, kissing up and down her elegant throat, his big fingers tightening on her slim shoulders.
Ivor tipped my wife’s chin up and kissed her, jealousy burning down my throat and into my gut.
“What a beautiful body she has,” he rumbled as his big fingers slipped under Paloma’s sleeve, began to slowlyyyy drag it down her arm.
“Yes–” I began to say, unsure if I was supposed to respond, but, after all, it was true.
“He’s here because he wanted to spank other women,” Paloma said as Ivor pulled her beautiful little dress down over her breasts, a round rosy nipple popping out as he took one breast carefully out, her perfect curves spilling into his palm.
“That means he must have wanted to open up the relationship. Just forgot to tell me, I guess.”
Ivor bent over and began to suck on her nipple eagerly, drawing it into his mouth over and over until it popped out pink as a cherry.
“I–was a dickhead,” I squawked as my wife got down on all fours, spreading her legs and wiggling her perky little ass, each individual cheek shaking and making my cock stiffen until it was like a dripping marble statue.
“No coming until I say,” Ivor ordered me harshly, and I shifted in my chair in embarrassment. “No touching yourself either.”
Paloma threw her head back as Ivor shoved her skirt up around her waist, snapping her little thong playfully as he examined her ass.
I felt sick with jealousy.
Well, I had fucked around with someone else, hadn’t I? This was my just and righteous punishment, and I would take it like a big boy. And she wanted me to foam at the mouth with jealousy, get up and demand my wife back. Throw a fit so big I got kicked out.
But if she wanted to play kink chicken, I was going to win.
“That’s it, baby,” she said, her eyes on me as he unzipped his pants.
I had to stifle a choked gasp of horror as Ivor palmed his cock in his hand.
It looked outlandishly big, ridiculously big. This must be some kind of sick joke.
She arched her back, but her eyes were on me, and I felt an electric shock go down my spine.
My wife was pissed at me. She wanted me to see her getting fucked by another man, and I was her devoted servant. So I was going to sit here and take it.
Ivor looked appreciatively down at Paloma’s ass, then raised it into the air and, to my shock, dove in.
He was sitting there eating my wife’s ass, with all these obscene-sounding slurps and smacks, his lips between both cheeks, crushing his own face with her two perfect pink globes.
“Look at his face,” Ivor laughed as he laved his tongue up and down her crack. “Never eaten your wife’s ass before?”
“No,” Paloma said. “He fancied himself quite the kink lord, too.”
My cock was tenting my pants now, not hiding the evidence of how turned on I was.
“I was wrong,” I said humbly. “I’d love the opportunity to consume your ass in future, sweetheart.”
She tossed her multi-colored hair and didn’t answer. But did I detect a slight softening in her eyes? Perhaps a weakening of the way she despised me? Despite my dirty talk, which was obviously very rudimentary.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as Ivor continued to eat her ass, and her body was tipped up so I saw arousal begin to stream down her thighs, roll down to her toes.
“Shit, I might come just from this,” Paloma moaned.
My fists tightened around the legs of the cuck chair as I watched.
My skin was hot, too hot. Like I was running a fever.
Ivor reached over to a side table and pulled out a tent-like condom, his eyes on me.
“Look at your husband over there, sitting in his little cuck chair with his hands in his lap. He wants to fuck you so badly, but over there he just can’t. He has to sit with his thumb in his ass and do nothing while a stronger, younger, fatter sack man takes you.”
“That’s right,” Paloma purred. “Put it in me, baby. Let him see what he can’t have.”
Ivor then pulled out an industrial-strength gallon of lube and slathered it all over his massive cock.
“Stretch wide.”
And I had to sit there, sweat rolling profusely down my neck and soaking the back of my shirt, as Ivor pressed his dick inside my wife.